|✘| swindle v.2 [OLD THREAD]

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Phantom’s Harmony,” she said simply.

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

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

“Scottish pyrates off the starboard quarter!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☸

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

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

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

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

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

☸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vin!” Finnegan shouted in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vin paused. “... Yes?” He tried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, it’s me,” he answered, watching her eyes close again. “No no no, Scarlet I need you to stay awake,” he pressed, beginning to make his way towards the edge of the ship. His leg still burned with pain and he was beginning to feel slightly light headed. “I can’t get us back without your help.”

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

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

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

“Did not expect to find you up here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why, if she is vile as you say?” Vin pressed.

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

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

The man gave a wave of his hand. “‘e was new. Barely on a month.”

“And a few days ago?” Vin mused.

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“English!” Scarlet barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarlet fumed. “Yer not coming!”

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

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

“Yes you do,” Scarlet hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“None of yer bloody business,” Scarlet barked.

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

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

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

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

“And I suppose ye do?” Scarlet sneered.

“Maybe I do,” Warren challenged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No good, filthy, murderous-”

“Shut it!”

“Plundering, scurvy sons of-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is he doing?” Scarlet demanded.

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

“Should we go after him?” Scarlet pressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well you certainly don’t like him,” Edwin countered.

“That’s right,” Scarlet snapped.

“Why?” He pressed.

Scarlet groaned in frustration. “He is no more than a stowaway that managed to snag some luck!”

Edwin smirked at her defensiveness but did not get a chance to say anything else, as they were cut off by the sound of the door opening behind them. The two of them stood and turned to see Warren emerging from the doorway. “I got the key,” he said as he rushed down the stairs.

His two siblings followed. “That was fast,” Edwin commented. Hesitation came over him. “Did you have to… Um… You know-”

“With her?” Warren exclaimed with a scoff. “Never.” There was a pressing moment of silence before he spoke again. “She does have three daughters in there though.”

Edwin let out a small laugh. “You would know.”

“That I would, yes,” Warren confirmed with a smile.

Scarlet rolled her eyes and pushed her way in front of them, leading the way to her ship.

“So what’s the next stop, sis?” Warren asked innocently.

Scarlet sighed through her nose and continued walking at a brisk pace. Though she was annoyed and still slightly dazed from the alcohol, she could hardly keep the hint of a smile off her face as she spoke her next words. “Back to the Caribbean sea.”





Thorton and Sam sat side by side in a secluded corner belowdecks. Thorton’s head was nodding slowly back and forth and Sam crossed his arms with a smirk on his face. “So how did ye get it?” Sam asked casually.

“What are you talking about?” Thorton groaned, pale-faced and feeling rather nauseous.

“This,” Sam said, holding up a storm blue open set neatly in a thick golden ring.

Thorton’s eyes widened and he snatched it from Sam’s hand, who did not fight the action. “Where did you find that?” He snapped.

“Your pocket,” Sam said with a grin.

It was met by Thorton’s cold, glazed glare. “You aren’t going to tell Scarlet, are you?” He said in a quieter tone, sticking it deep into his coat pocket.

Sam burst into laughter and leaned back. “Hell no,” he stated, bringing the neck of a bottle to his lips.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

A boy at the young age of six sat on a bench outside his parents’ room. Or as he saw it, his mother’s and her new husband’s room. They’d been married a year or so and his new stepfather was kind, but distant. Strict.

They were both in the room now with one of the house maids and the boy was told to wait where he was. He had sat in silence for hours and had dared to wander a time or two, but when he returned, the hall was the same. Empty and quiet, as the thick door was effective at muting any sound that came from the other side.

Growing impatient once more, he stood. Deciding not to go far this time around, he merely wandered to the end of the hall and stood on his tip-toes to gaze out the window. He put his hands on the window sill and quickly used one to brush his blonde hair out of his face. He had refused a haircut since he’d gotten the first one he remembered. It was horrible. He hated it. He told himself he would never cut it short again. It nearly reached his shoulders now and fell in messy waves.

His breath quickly created condensation on the cold winter widow. He used a sleeve and wiped it away, gazing at the landscape beyond. They lived on his stepfather’s vineyard, and though most of the year was warm and the sweet smells of grapes and wine were not unfamiliar, the vines were now bare and the fields empty of workers. It was not terribly late in the day, but the sun has already begun to sink and turn the world a deep purple. Much like the grapes, he thought.

He jumped when he heard the great wooden door creak open behind him. He turned to see the housemaid’s head look at the bench he’d been sitting on then turn to him with a puzzled expression and tired eyes. Though once she saw him, a smile lit up her face immediately. “Come, Vinazio,” she chided in a hushed voice. “Come and meet your new sister.” She gestured for him to come closer.

Once she had opened the door, a tiny but rattlingly loud cry had escaped the room, previously muted by the barrier than now stood agape. He looked at her then at the door, hesitating. When he glanced at her again, he slowly made his way into the large room.

As he walked in and the housemaid closed the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his mother in bed and her new husband standing beside her, whispering to each other excitedly. He thought she did not look so good, but his attention was quickly taken by the screaming thing she held.

His step father, Bernardo, took a step back to make room for him. He looked up at the largely built figure, but he swore he had never seen the man crack a single smile. He continued to his mother’s side and put his hand on the edge of the bed, as to pull himself up just a bit.

Hardly bothering to talk over the crying child and not murmuring more than the occasional hush, his mother tipped the bundle slightly so her son could see.

Vinazio tiptoed a bit higher and hardly noticed his mother’s smile as he gazed wide-eyed at the new baby. Her teary, dark eyes met his and she blinked them, sniffing a few times before all that was left of her cries was a quivering lip.

“I think she likes you,” His mother whispered.

He looked at her, then back at the baby and her eyes were now wide and staring at him. It actually made him rather uncomfortable, but he could not seem to look away. “How do you know it is a she?” He asked suddenly. “To me… It looks like it could just as well be a boy,” he pointed out. Not that he cared one way or the other, but there was just nothing about it that seemed at all girly to him.

His mother, Isabetta, glanced at Bernardo then back at her first born. “I have given her a girl’s name, and so she is a girl,” she explained.

“Oh,” Vinazio said with a nod. “I see now.” Part of him did not entirely believe her, but he did not press the matter. “So what is her name, anyway?” He asked curiously.

Isabetta smiled and looked at the baby she held. “Fiorenza Ysabel Constansie Julietta Caprice,” she announced.

Vinazio made a face and dreaded that he would have to memorize another name when he still got his own wrong at times. It had a nice ring, he would admit, but he had already forgotten the first one. “I will just call her Fia,” he decided out loud. He smiled and for the first time, his sister smiled back.[/color]

Isabetta wandered the villa with Fioreza in her arms. Her daughter held flowers and helped her put some new ones into the vases scattered around. She stopped suddenly when the echo of a voice could be heard, coming from the main entrance. “Hello?” It called out, the tone unsure.

Curious and much to Fiorenza’s protest, she made her way in the direction of a voice. As she rounded a corner the spotted the figure of a man peeking inside, though the sun behind him cast only a silhouette and it was difficult to make out his features. “May I help you?” She called politely though slightly cautious, thinking it must have been an associate of her husband’s.

“Isabetta?” The voice suddenly sounded hopeful and relieved.

Isabetta froze as the man approached her and his face became clear. “Luis,” she hissed harshly, closing the distance between them with brisk steps. “What are you doing here?”

The man was tall and his graying hair was a sandy blonde and curled in quite a messy way, nearly reaching his shoulders. His face was carpeted in thick scruff, though despite his current state, a feeling she found rather unpleasant fluttered in her chest and she quickly buried it.

He held his arms out to her, though thought better of the gesture before making contact. It simply began a sweeping gesture and a smile crossed his lips. “I… I had come for you,” he said and his hope faded from his eyes and his face fell as well as his arms. He spoke in broken Italian, his accent heavily Spanish. His eyes flickered to Fiorenza and back. “I heard you had married, but, I was already passing by…” he fought for words that made sense before ending with a defeated sigh.

Fiorenza tipped her head curiously at the man. “Who are you?” She asked suddenly.

“Fiorenza,” Isabetta snapped in a hushed tone. “Do not be rude. Vinazio!” As she called her son’s name, the strange man’s demeanor perked up though his eyes seemed to fall further.

Isabetta kneeled and placed Fiorenza on the floor as the quick echo of running footsteps approached. “You stay with your brother for a while, alright?” She instructed and Fiorenza nodded obediently.

Vinazio rounded the corner and slowed to a brisk walk. His eyes quickly found the stranger, but his expression revealed nothing. He did, however, silently admire the man’s hair. It was similar to his own and he did not believe he had met anyone before that moment who did not have dark hair.

As he got closer, he looked up at his mother. “Take Fiorenza for a while,” she instructed. “Are Olivierio and Catelina still here?”

Vinazio shook his head. “No, they went home,” he said, daring a quick glance at the stranger before looking down at his sister and reaching for her hand. “Come on, Fia. Do you want to visit the horses?”

She broke into a broad smile and jumped up and down as she clutched his hand. “Yeah! Yeah!” She cheered happily.

Isabetta heaved a heavy sigh. “No riding!” She called after them.

“And don’t let her in the stables, I know,” Vinazio said with a good-natured smile in her direction before turning and leading his sister outside.

Vin hit the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of his lungs, breathless as he stared at the sky beginning to turn pink with the day’s end.

Though dazed, he heard the sound of a soft laugh above him, along with the muffle steps of hooves on grass. The black muzzle of a horse touched his face and he shot up to regain himself, being nudged by his black, white-maned horse. He shoved it away with a smile and got to his feet.

“How many does that make?” Chimed a light, bell-like voice.

He grabbed the reins of his horse and turned to face the owner of the voice: a beautiful young woman with messily pinned up light brown hair and golden brown eyes. She was thin and petite with soft, kind features and an amused smile played on her pink lips.

“Four,” he answered with a nod, trying his best to be serious. In a moment, however, he looked down and broke into a smile. “Today,” he admitted reluctantly.

She laughed again and hopped off her palomino mare and wandered over to the edge of the hill they were on, letting her horse graze and plopping down onto the ground. She ran her fingers through the grass and smiled over her shoulder at Vin.

He dropped the reins and walked over, sitting beside her. From the hill they were one, they overlooked his family’s vineyard from a near bird’s eye view. She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. “That cloud looks like a rose,” she said, mostly to herself. Her gaze shifted to the fields and distant villa. “It is really beautiful,” she mused dreamily.

“It will be even more so with you there, Imilia,” Vin murmured to her, pressing his cheek against her head.

A content sigh escaped her and they sat in silence as she gazed at the clouds, admiring their beauty. “Are you sure they like me?” She mumbled worriedly.

“Of course they do,” he assured her, shifting slightly so his forehead pressed gently against hers. “My mother is only upset about Catelina, but both of us would have been unhappy. In time she will come to love you as much as I do.”

She smiled and folded his hand in her own. “I love you, Vinazio,” she hummed, kissing him gently, “and nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”

Vin kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed. He slept with his head on his arm and his free hand holding Imilia’s. He had not left the spot for hours, had not left the room for days, and slept only lightly. The moment she stirred, he looked up and squeezed her hand gently, shifting his numb legs. “Imilia?”

As she lay bedridden, a weak cough escaped her. A thin film of sweat shone on her placid skin and her breath was slow and shallow. “Vin?” She breathed.

He shifted again so he could lean closer to her and hold her hand in both of his. “Yes, yes, I’m here,” he whispered.

“You didn’t leave,” she said weakly.

“Never,” he assured her. The longer he looked at her the harder he fought to hold back tears. Her face was hollow and her normally bright eyes were dull and glazed over. They seemed to take an eternity to find him.

“I am dying, Vinazio.” Her voice sounded akin to a soft breeze. She caught her breath as her own eyes began to well with tears.

“No no no, you will be ok,” he promised her. “You’ll be alright, Imilia.”

She shook her head slightly and her face twisted in sorrow. She brushed his hand with her fingers. “I’ve accepted it,” she said in a hushed tone. “But I am afraid,” she breathed, dragging out the words. “Stay with me.” She searched his eyes but they would not meet her own. “Stay with me,” she repeated desperately.

He met her eyes as hot tears began to fall down his face. It was inevitable. They all knew that. They had known for a long time. “I will,” he promised, nodding repeatedly.

She relaxed and turned her head back up towards the ceiling. He watched her intently as she fell asleep once more, her chest steadily rising and falling. He kept an eye on her well into the night until he fell asleep as well for the third time in the same spot at the edge of the bed.

A milky dawn light trickled through the window early the next morning, waking Vin easily. As soon as he regained consciousness, he knew something wasn’t right. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on Imilia’s hand.

He froze. It was cold. His head shot up and quickly examined her. She was perfectly still; in a state more peaceful than sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest has ceased.

Refusing to believe the evident, panic grew in Vin’s chest. “Imilia?” He whispered. “Imilia?” He asked again, a little louder. “No no no,” he repeated under his breath, ignoring the numbness and standing, touching her face but quickly retracting when it proved to be colder than her hand. “Imilia!” He cried out desperately, brushing back her hair with shaking hands and blinking his eyes tight as if he would awaken from a horrid nightmare any second.

Moments later, footsteps sounded rushing up behind him and the bedroom door swung open. Nurses rushed to her side. He felt the touch of his mother’s grip on his shoulder. He stood, frozen until she tried to lead him away. It was in that moment where reality set in and he pulled himself from her, rushing back to the bedside. “No!” He shouted in protest, hearing voices around him but unaware of what they said.

One of the nurses rushed over and tried to stand in his way but he slipped past her. He fell onto the bed and looked over Imilia’s body until the tears blurred her form beyond recognition.

He slowly sank to her level and pulled her into himself, burying his face into her shoulder and muffling the sobs that escaped him. At one point he felt a hand touch his arm but he shook it off violently before returning to his previous position. He was aware of the others in the room, but paid them no heed as they stopped their futile attempts at keeping him from her.

It was that moment in which he heard her voice whisper in his ear. I am not afraid.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

Scarlet was at the helm as the first of sunlight woke her. It had been pointless to try and go anywhere the night before with half the crew out of their wits and the other half unconscious. Only a few of her men had managed to stay sober, though not nearly enough to sail the ship far.

She herself has a mild throbbing in her head, but ignored it easily. She had started off as early as she could, impatience itching at her like a rash. She sailed the morning with the bare minimum of men working the ropes and had spent most of it correcting mistakes made by Edwin and Warren. Her brothers knew more than she expected, but had only ever sailed on ships much smaller and were unfamiliar with most of the smaller sails. Luckily Edwin picked up on it quickly and kept Warren with him to monitor and correct his mistakes, leaving Scarlet to worry about everything else.

Meanwhile belowdecks, a good amount of the crew was still asleep. Humming quietly to himself, Sam rummaged through the kitchen until he found the only metal pot there. He stood up and smiled to himself, still humming, as he flipped it in his hand and wandered casually towards the sleeping quarters of the crew.

Once he made it in there, he began banging the pot all every hard surface he could find, weaving in and out of the maze of hammocks. “Wake up, the lot o’ ye!” He shouted over the clamor. He was met by a flurry of protest and profanities, grumbled by the other men. “Oh quit yer complainin’!” He barked. “Yer not on this ship to sleep yer lives away!”

Shaking his head, Sam tossed the pot aside and made his way over to where Vin sat, his legs swung over the edge of his hammock and his face in his hands. “Mornin’, mate!” Sam said cheerily, slapping Vin’s back and causing him to wince. “Not much of a rum drinker I take it,” Sam pointed out.

“No,” Vin admitted then looked up at Sam and let his hands fall. “Next time I think I will settle for some fine wine.”

“Aye, so yer a woman,” Sam said innocently, nodding.

“What?” Vin groaned.

“Nothing,” Sam said quickly.

“What about you?” Vin asked. “Even you could not have possibly kept track of all that you drank last night yet you hardly seemed affected at all.” He pouted slightly as if it were unfair.

Sam let out a laugh that made Vin’s head feel more like a gong. “That’s me secret. I’m always drunk,” he stated with a grin. He then walked away and grabbed a bottle left nearby by the neck, most likely left behind by one of the men the night before, and headed to the deck.

It was a good thing his hands had healed enough for there only to be a lingering soreness left behind because he would not have stayed vertical for long on a moving ship in his condition without tightly gripping any handhold he could reach.

He narrowed his eyes against the sun as he reached the deck and stood for a moment. That is when he realized something strange. He strained his ears, but for the first time since he boarded the Obsidian, the call of seagulls could not be heard. With a pang of sudden seasickness he realized they must be out in the open sea.

He rushed to the rail and gazed out at the horizon in every direction. He thought to himself that there was hardly a more sobering experience than looking out at the vast expanse of ocean surrounding you. He felt uneasy as thoughts of rogue waves and water spouts haunted his imagination. Not to mention what could possibly be an unknown length of depth beneath them. The sea was so unknown, so unpredictable. His chest tightened with anxiety.

His sights then travelled to the sky in an attempt to escape the idea of endless water. The few clouds in the sky calmed his nerves and the longer he looked, the more he could have sworn one closely resembled a rose. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning heavily on the rail as his heart rate slowed. “I am not afraid,” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?” The overly cheery voice startled Vin and a hand came down on his shoulder that made him stagger a bit.

He looked over to see Warren standing beside him bearing a broad smile. To Vin he was a stranger, though an unsettling familiarity pricked the back of his mind. He shook it of. “Nothing. It was nothing,” he answered in a low tone.

He began to walk away, but Warren continued to speak. “Hey,” he said. Vin turned to face the shorter again. “My brother told me how you saved our sister’s arse,” he said with an appreciative nod, crossing his arms. “Glad to know there are others better at keeping her alive than us,” he added with a slight hint of bitterness, but it was gone quickly.

Vin’s expression became severely confused. “Who is your sister?” He wondered briefly how much of his memory from the night before he had actually lost.

Warren raised an eyebrow but his smile stayed put. “Scarlet is,” he said with a scoff. When Vin’s expression remained clueless, he held his hand out and continued. “Warren Elmwood.”

Vin reached out and shook his hand in greeting, removing the flurry of sudden questions from his mind. “Vinazio Gi-” he paused and pressed his lips together momentarily. “Vin Espacciano,” he corrected himself.

“You sure?” Warren teased. “I could have sworn your name was Pighead.” He burst into laughter, referencing Scarlet’s colorful namecalling the night before. When Vin did not follow suit, he sputter to a stop and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak again, but a hand came over his face and shoved him away.

As Warren stumbled back, Edwin stepped forward and glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be learning how to tie a proper knot?” They glowered at each other a moment before Warren decided it wasn’t worth the effort and walk away, grumbling under his breath.

Edwin then turned to face Vin with a smile and held out his hand much like his brother had. “Edwin Elmwood,” he said.

Vin smiled and shook his hand, liking this one much better. “Vin Espacciano.” Edwin was taller than Vin and therefore much taller than his other two siblings, but built similarly to Warren in other aspects. His blonde hair was not curly like theirs, but rather straight and cropped neat and short, though he bared the same blue eyes. Neither of her brothers’ were as haunting a color as Scarlet’s but they were striking nonetheless.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Vin,” Edwin said then glanced around. “Anyway, better be getting back to keeping my little brother out of trouble.” He flicked his fingers in farewell and turned to follow Warren.

Vin watched them go and leaned back onto the rail with a sigh. He looked back up to the sky but the rose shaped cloud had blown away. He hung his head for a moment and flinched slightly when he heard another pair of hands touch down lightly on the rail beside him.

“What was her name?” The voice of Finnegan made Vin look up and turn to him with a look of puzzlement.

“What do you mean?” Vin asked.

“I’m an old man, lad,” Finnegan said with a mischievous smile. “I know that look anywhere.”

Vin offered a small smile and looked back over at the horizon. He took a deep breath before answering the question. “Her name was Imilia,” he said finally.

Finnegan nodded, also looking across the water. “So who’d she leave ya for, then?” He teased.

Vin looked down and shook his head slowly. “She died. Four years ago today,” he corrected in a soft tone.

Finnegan glanced at him and the expression on Vin’s face made him regret bringing it up. “Aye, I’m sorry, lad,” he murmured.

Vin shook his head then looked at him with a tired smile. “Who left you, then?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Finnegan’s half smile returned and he shrugged. “The mother of my child,” he said. Vin looked at him in surprise, but he continued. “Eh, she was a whore.”

Vin was slightly taken aback by the blunt casualness of his last statement and decided to shake it off. “You have children?” He asked curiously.

Finnegan held up a single finger and glanced at him. “Child. A son,” he said.

“What happened to him?” Vin asked cautiously.

Finnegan did not answer, simply sighed and his eyes trailed off to the side, somewhere behind Vin.

After a moment of slight confusion, Vin hesitantly turned his body and followed his sights to where Finnegan’s had landed.

There was not anything behind him other than a very frustrated Sam peeking into the opening of an empty rum bottle. He mumbled profanities under his breath before ultimately tossing it overboard and wandering away.

Suddenly, it dawned on Vin and he spun back to look at Finnegan, who was now looking back at the ocean with a slightly scowling expression. “You mean Sam is your-”

“Yep,” Finnegan confirmed.

Vin paused in contemplation. “Why does not have your last name?”

“We agreed it would be best if nobody knew,” Finnegan said. “So he uses his mother’s surname.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Vin asked curiously.

Finnegan looked at him with a laugh and straightened up from leaning on the rail. “Because everyone knows.”

Vin smiled and paused. “Finnegan,” he said cautiously.

The older man stopped and looked at him. “What is it, lad?”

Vin lowered his voice. “If those two are Scarlet’s brothers, then why were they not on the ship as well?”

Finnegan paused and his face grew grim. “There are some things you do not need to know,” he said simply and wandered away before Vin had the chance to continue his questioning. He figured perhaps it was indeed none of his business, but he could not help but wonder nonetheless.

He felt suddenly unsteady as the ship felt as if it were rising. Vin looked over the edge and found that it indeed was being lifted by a massive wave and dark clouds that were not there a moment before swirled overhead. He turned to see the rest of the crew still with confusion then, as quickly as it began, it returned to the calm, blue day it had been moments before.

Vin was wondering if what he had just witnessed had been reality at all when heavy bootsteps stormed down the stairs from the helm and Scarlet’s voice rang out in rage with a hint of surprise. “Who has it?” She demanded, roaring over the settling waves.

Something of that nature could not have come from simply any force. She knew what it was the cause and there was no denying the object was aboard her ship without her knowledge. Someone had just made a fatal mistake. “Where is the ring?!” She shouted as she reached the deck, her accusing, ghostly glare drifting over the men.

Vin glanced around out of sheer curiosity and caught sight of Thorton returning from belowdeck, fumbling with putting something into his coat pocket.

Without hesitating Thorton stepped up with a hardened look on his face and stopped halfway across the deck from Scarlet. “I have it,” he said with a short, sharp sigh to himself.

Scarlet whipped her head around to face him and quickly wiped the increased surprise from her expression. She turned her body to face him and approached him with quick, swift steps. She held out her hand. “Hand it over,” she demanded.

Thorton took a step back as she grew closer, causing her to stop and retract her hand. She looked up at him and he remained collected, determination and even the slightest hint of disappointment in his dark eyes.

Scarlet quickly grew angered and glowered at him. “I said give it to me,” she repeated, leaning forward in an attempt to snatch a hold of his pocket. He avoided her again and she scoffed in frustration. “Mind yer captain!” She demanded futilely.

“You’re not getting this ring, Scarlet,” Thorton said in a quiet and at the same time defeatingly powerful tone.

Grunting through clenched teeth, Scarlet lunged forward again but he only twisted away once more. Immediately, she tried to execute a different tactic but he grabbed her wrists with a force that prevented her from moving them. She struggled nonetheless and pulled back. He stepped forward, but held fast. She got the momentum of his stumbling going until she reached an opportunity to step to the side and twist his arms, yanking them down with all her might and therefore him to the ground as well.

Thorton hit the deck with a thud and though it wasn’t a hard fall, his head struck the planks below. Slightly dazed, he propped himself up on an elbow and bent his knee, rubbing his head.

Scarlet circled him and drew her sword, pointing it at him slowly. “Give it to me,” she demanded again, this time in a slow, dark tone.

Thorton simply returned her glare and slowly pushed himself back, as he was unarmed at that particular moment. Even if he’d had a weapon on him he wouldn’t dare draw it.

Vin glanced at Finnegan. “Is this a common occurrence?” He hissed, recalling the scene she made over the map when he was first discovered as a passenger.

“She likes to be dramatic,” Finnegan whispered back, completely unconcerned with the situation. “Just let it pass-” he began before he glanced over and realized Vin was no longer quietly standing by. “Vin-” he began to shout then simply groaned and shook his head.

Meanwhile, Warren stood near the rail with his arms crossed, Edwin beside him. “I don’t like this,” he murmured.

Edwin looked on with a hardened stare. “Neither to I,” he admitted flatly.

“Should we do something?” Warren whispered, half to himself.

Edwin quickly glanced around. “No one else seemed concerned,” he pointed out.

“They’re pyrates,” Warren spat. “What’s one less life to them?” Standing and contemplating a moment more, he decided to take action. However, as soon as he took a step forward, another voice cut him off.

Vin marched towards them and stopped mere footsteps away. “Stop!” He boomed.

Scarlet’s attention whipped to him and narrowed dangerously. He did not think he had ever seen so much rage present in one person, but he held her gaze nonetheless. He met it with a steady glare of his own, he fists clenched at his sides.

Thorton calmly collected himself, rising to his feet though his breath came fast with adrenaline.

Scarlet glanced at Thorton then back at Vin and Sheathed her sword. She whipped around and threw the door to her quarters open and slammed it shut with a deafening boom once she was on the other side.

Vin watched her storm off then relaxed his tensed muscles, taking a few steps towards Thorton. “Are you alright?” He asked. Most of the crew was standing around in shock and some had gone on as if nothing had happened.

“I’m fine,” Thorton snapped, brushing off his jacket. Then he stopped and glowered at Vin. “What were you thinking?” He demanded.

“What do you mean?” Vin said, taken aback but keeping the harsh tone in his voice present.

Thorton took a step forward and leaned toward him. “I would have been fine. She would never kill me.” Though what he argued was true, he knew better than take comfort in it. She could have done much worse with a blade. He was only rattled that Vin would intervene, knowing that men had been killed for far less than his bold act. Even more, perhaps, he was stricken by how quickly Scarlet had submitted.

Vin opened his mouth to argue, but rocked back again and sighed. In a slightly calmer tone, he asked, “What was she after?”

Thorton glanced around and dug into his pocket. Pulling out only enough to see, he presented the blue opal ring and quickly replaced it.

Vin raised an eyebrow. “Alistair’s ring?”

Thorton’s eyes continued to dart nervously. “We will speak of this later,” he snapped quietly, turning quickly to head to the abandoned helm.

As Thorton left, Vin glanced around and noticed there were more than a few pairs of eyes that quickly looked away as his own met them.

“Damn,” came a chuck from behind.

Vin whipped around to see Sam standing behind him. He looked around with a free hand on his hip, nodding slightly as if impressed. “Why is everyone looking at me like that,” Vin asked him in a hushed tone.

“‘Cause they’re expectin’ to see a bullet hole in yer bloody head!” Sam shouted with a scratchy laugh, taking a swig from the bottle he held by the neck.

Vin’s expression grew concerned and confused and he shifted on his feet and put his hands on his hips. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Sam stopped and looked at him, throwing an arm in the air and letting it fall limply back to his side. “Ye just crossed the Captain of the Obsidian, mate!” He shouted. He then leaned forward in Vin’s face and pointed a finger at him, lowering his gruff voice. “And she listened to ye,” he added. “The only thing more important to ‘er than treasure is ‘er pride, mate,” Sam continued. “And ye just robbed ‘er of it.”

“What does that mean?” Vin asked flatly.

Sam laughed again. “It means she either fancies ye or is in thar now plotting yer slow an’ painful death,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “But knowin’ ‘er, I’d say it’s both.” He smirked and lowered his arm. “Either way, I’d watch me back if I were ye.” He turned to saunter away with a gruff laugh and tilted his head back to get the last of the bottle’s contents.

As Sam walked away, Vin’s arms dropped back to his sides and he sighed through his nose, his eyes sweeping the deck once more. This time around he caught sight of the two men he had recently met across from him. The taller one’s arms were crossed and he had a distant, disappointed look and turned slowly to continue something productive. The other leaned on the rail and smirked at Vin until his brother took away his attention with a flick to the back of the head.

Vin glanced at the double doors where Scarlet had disappeared before wandering off to somehow make himself useful on what he knew would be a very long journey across the Atlantic.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

Scarlet sat at the long table in her cabin, strewn with maps and tools. There were a few gems and chalices scattered on the floor to the right of the door from her earlier entrance. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table; hands tightly running through her hair. Her hat sat beside her, the edges of the feathers fluttering slightly.

A sudden knock was heard at the door. Scarlet did not jump, but rather slowly lowered her arms and glanced over at the sound, remaining silent.

After a moment of what she assumed to be hesitation, the door creaked open. Thorton slipped inside and quickly closed the door behind him.

Scarlet straightened up and narrowed her eyes slightly. “What are you doing here?” She asked in a dull, quiet voice.

A twinge of a smile reached Thorton’s lips, catching a hint of her English accent. “I’ve been thinking,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and delicately pulling out a certain storm blue ring. Scarlet’s eyes widened in slight surprise. He held it up then looked to the ground and kneeled, picking up a chalice. “I took it to prevent further use of it. I learned earlier it is no safer in my hand.” He dropped the ring into the cup and it circled the bottom with a metallic ring that echoed through the room, eerily unnatural.

Brushing it off quickly, Thorton set the cup on the table and kept his hand upon it as he met Scarlet’s eyes. “Promise me you won’t try to use it,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes lingered on the golden chalice a bit longer before she looked up at him and offered a curt nod.

Thorton took his hand off the cup and glanced at Scarlet one last time. She continued to stare at the cup as he exited, the sound of it ringing in her head still as if it called to her. Forcing her eyes, away with a frustrated grunt, she slammed her hands on the table and shuffled the maps and papers before her in an attempt to regain her focus.

As soon as Thorton closed the door, Vin dropped the rope he was coiling and walked briskly over. “Are you going to tell me about that ring now?” He asked quietly, impatient.

Thorton looked at him, his hand still gripping the iron handle. “You are a pest, aren’t you?” He grumbled.

Vin’s face hardened at the remark. “I just want to know what is going on,” he insisted. “I do not think it is too much to ask.

Thorton sighed and glanced around. “It is here.” He paused. “In the future, be careful with what you stick your nose into,” he warned in a low voice. “Follow me,” he added, walking around Vin and heading below deck.

As they walked down the stairs, Thorton swiftly snatched a lantern off the wall. He walked over to a secluded corner and sat on a barrel. Vin stood near him and leaned on a poorly built shelf stacked with more barrels. “Why so secretive?” Vin asked.

“That ring is a legend,” he began. “Most who know of it don’t even believe it exists. Those that do would do anything to get their hands on it. And if anyone knew it was on this ship…” Thorton paused and shook his head.

“Why is it so special?” Vin asked.

Thorton looked at him and furrowed his brow. “You’ve seen what it can do,” he snapped. “Phantom’s Harmony is more widely known in Europe than even us.”

“You expect me to believe this ring is some kind of… Magic?” Vin pressed. He made a face as if he did not believe, yet he could think of no other explanation.

Thorton heaved a sigh and straightened up. “It is said to have been used to trap the essence of a goddess,” he explained slowly, making small gestures with his hands. “Who knows which,” he added. “Most have never even seen a jewel of it’s like before. Some say it has special qualities that can steal of deity's power. Some say it was her gift to man. There are many theories behind it,” he concluded hastily with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know what to believe, but I do understand it to be something surreal.”

He remained quiet and Vin nodded slowly. “That is all?” Vin asked.

“All I know,” Thorton said, rising to his feet. He began to walk away when Vin spoke.

“All you know or all you will say?” A slight hint of accusation rang in his voice.

Thorton paused and glanced halfway over his shoulder before continuing to walk away.

The first few days of the voyage had been slow. Vin was told to stay away from the rigging until his hands were strong enough to hold onto a rope again. So, he made use of himself in other ways. There was always a job to be done around a ship, no matter how small.

With not much going on, Vin had become much more aware of the rest of the crew. He listened to conversations, noticed people he hadn’t before. One in particular was a boy, no more than fifteen or sixteen, who had struck him as significantly younger than the rest of the crew. It was no wonder he had not noticed him earlier, flitting around and keeping things tidy on his own. With Vin’s hands in the condition they were in, however, he had received a few rushed instructions from the boy on other things he could do.

Now, as he walked onto the deck, he saw him now. He sat on a crate with his legs up on a second. One knee was bent and he leaned against the corner near the rail.

Vin could not recall ever seeing him sitting and curiosity consumed him as he approached. “What do you have there?” He asked.

Startled, the boy jumped slightly and looked up at Vin. He had hazel eyes and thin, straight light brown hair, his face sprinkled with freckles. He quickly looked back to his project. “Whale bone,” he answered, striking the figure again with a knife held in his other hand.

Vin shifted slightly so he could see the design. He figured about half was done, and spotted what he could make out as tentacles. “What is it?” He asked.

“The kraken,” he answered simply, without looking up. He was very reserved in the way he acted, as if he felt out of place. Vin could understand why, as he had felt the same and still did.

Vin was unfamiliar with the word. “Kraken?”

The boy glanced up at him to confirm that his face matched the confusion in his tone. “Yes,” he said. “It’s a monster that crushes ships and drags men to the depths of the locker,” he explained. He then returned to his carving. “It’s not real or anything. It’s only meant to scare sailors.”

Vin had never heard of the concept before, but he found it intriguing. Before he could comment, a distant voice cut him off. “Benny!” The boy looked up and shoved the carving and tool in his pocket. He glanced at Vin has he scrambled off obediently towards the voice.

The sun shone on the obsidian, as the mist of fall morning was burned away by mid-day. There was no sound but the shuffle of feet, the crash of waves, and the creaking of ropes. Most days of the journey had gone by this way; busy and hushed.

Suddenly a hum escaped and drifted over the deck like a soft breeze. It was a low tune that slowly began to pick up speed before it was followed by mumbled words.

Oh, Sally May of Galloway
Sally May of Galloway…

Another voice picked up the song with clearer and louder words.

She ails my heart from far away
I said I would return one day
Says she’ll wait with skies of gray

Suddenly, the majority of the crew was singing along in broken pitches and cracking tones, but enjoying themselves more than they had been moments before.

Sally May
Oh, Sally May of Galloway
A fool I’d be to stray away
Yet still I leave for ocean spray

It changed back to the first man now, the rest of them whistling or thrumming their fingers out of tune.

I returned to her from years away
And there stood Sally, waitin’ at the bay
Though what she had said caused me dismay

The men stopped and looked at Scarlet expectantly.

She stood at the hull gazing out to sea until the sudden quiet caught her attention. She furrowed her brows in a mix of confusion and refusal. She glanced at Thorton beside her, but he only smiled.

Scarlet sighed and looked over them before a small smile crept to her lips and she decided to play along. Her voice was not particularly flattering, but rather rough and slightly harsh. Nevertheless, there was a melodic feminine tone to it that contrasted nicely with the voice of her men.

In your extended delay
I sought foul play
In your absence, I was lead astray
Keep away, he’s on his way
I no longer be your Sally May
Oh, Sally May of Galloway

The sun had been below the horizon for quite some time. The flickering golden light of dangling lanterns lit the deck. Men were gathered in a circle on the deck, having pulled up barrels and crates and planks of wood to sit on. They played a game of cards in the center, hardly speaking a word. Vin leaned against a wall, watching from a distance.

The only sound besides the creaking of the ropes and the gentle rush of the sea was the sound of a man in the corner who had separated the rest of the men. He had tanned skin and straight, thinning black hair that nearly reached his shoulders and the like straggling from his chin. His brown eyes were soft and in a distant world as he strummed quietly on a lute, singing in a quiet voice that drifted over the ship.

… Cursed by want
To age by naught
Never shall he die

‘’Till came the day
Where he shall pay
By fires quite alive

His bone did show
Flesh ceased to grow
Upon his burning skull

His treasure lost
At any cost
The black of his flag does fly-

He was cut off unknowingly as one of the men had stood from the card game and yanked away his lute by the neck. “Mind what yer singing, mate.” It was a large man with a pipe hanging loosely from his lips. The other man snatched his lute back with a sharp glare.

“Aye, Bishop! Enough of your superstition!” It was Tajo who had stood among the group and waved the man back over.

The man turned his head and the flash of his scarred blind eye shone in the firelight. Vin recognized him as the one who had so pleasantly thrown him in the brig on his first day.

“It is no superstition!” He called back. “Tiago here is meddling with things he doesn’t understand!”

The man called Tiago glared at him sharply, but did not say a word. Instead, he plopped back down where he had been and picked up on a different song.

“What was he singin’ about?” The curious voice of Benny sounded out, sitting small and hardly noticeable among the older men.

Bishop looked at Benny and began to lumber back over, siting heavily just as Tajo did. “He sang of Jolly Roger.”

Chuckles escaped half the men and a few shifted uncomfortably. “That ain’t nothin’ but a story,” Benny chimed.

Bishop shot a look at him that made the young boy flinch. “It is more than a story, ye scrawny little rat,” he snapped.

“Don’t scare the boy mate,” Tajo said innocently. “He is right, after all.”

Bishop shook his head. “No, Jolly Roger is more ‘n real. An’ ‘e’s out there still.” The men fell silent, some in fear and some in curiosity. Bishop shifted and his voice deepened to a low rumble as he spoke. “He was among the first pirates to be. An’ a damn good ‘un at that. ‘e plundered the Atlantic coast of the Americas, leavin’ nothin’ but destruction in ‘is wake.” The light of the lanterns cast dramatic shadows across his face. “‘e began to turn against ‘is own crew fer the sake of the gold. Slaughterin’ ‘em like animals to get what ‘e wanted. Jus’ like the people ‘e stole from in the first place.”

There was a long pause, the night weighing heavy upon them. Sam shifted and stood, lifting a lantern and leaning on the rail looking out to the sea. Bishop’s eyes followed him before returning and looking down. “What did they do about it?” Benny pressed.

Bishop glanced at the boy then at the rest of the men. “Aye, they knew mutiny would not stop ‘im. They had to go much farther. They rigged the ship to blow, knowing it would take them with it, but it would also take Jolly Roger down too.

‘What ‘appened next no one is certain, but one thing is for sure.” The eyes of every man were trained on Bishop, waiting to hear what had happened to the black-hearted captain. He leaned in and lowered his voice further. “Once the flames consumed the ship, the cap’n’s face melted straight off ‘is skull!”

Just as he said the last word, a roaring flame appeared in the air behind him and the men jumped back. The majority had cried out in fear and Benny had fallen off his crate.

All that followed was the sound of Bishop’s deafening laughter as well as Sam’s, who stood behind him with a bottle of rum in one hand and a lantern in the other.

Still laughing, Sam walked over and hauled Benny to his feet, nearly sending the boy topping again with a good-natured hand to the back.

Once they were all settled back down, Sam noticed Vin standing in the corner with an amused smile on his face. “Hey!” He called. “How much money ye got?”

Vin looked at him and shrugged. “Eh, not much,” he admitted.

“That’s enough!” Sam confirmed, waving him over as he shuffled a deck of cards.

The clang of clashing swords rang through the morning air, accompanied by cheers and hollers. Sweat beaded on Sam’s brow as he stood rigid, the hilt of a sword tightly gripped in hand.

With a grunt of determination, he lunged towards the opponent he fought, bringing his sword down with all his strength. It was blocked easily, however, and Sam was shoved back with a force that sent him stumbling to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Once he blinked them open, the glint of a blade at his throat made him squint again.

On the other end of the weapon was a dark skinned man with short hair and a length of colorful fabric tied around his forehead. Small golden hoops shone from each ear, similar to the one in Sam’s left. Though there was a chill in the air, he had shed his shirt in the midst of action.

“Alright, alright, I lost, I give up,” Sam said, putting his hands up in surrender and propping himself up.

“Tajo won again!” There were mixed reactions among the spectres as bets were paid off.

The man called Tajo held his sword aside and a wide, toothy grin reached his grimy face as he stepped forward and offered a hand to Sam. “Honestly, I do not know why ya keep tryin’,” he laughed in good humor, his words coming off with a thick yet undefined Caribbean accent. Sam took his arm and Tajo heaved him off the ground and nudged him in the shoulder. “But I respect your persistance, my friend.”

Vin lumbered up the stairs to the upper deck, rolling up the cuff of his sleeve. He looked around, slightly confused at the sight of the gathering before him.

Tajo glanced around Sam and spotted Vin. He quickly pointed to him with a wagging finger. “Aye! New one!” He called. Vin looked around until he saw the source of the voice. “Yes, you,” Tajo continued with a mischievous smile. “Come here.”

Hesitant, Vin continued forward. As he made his way closer, Tajo turned and whistled to someone in the crowd, followed by a gesture of his hand. From somewhere unseen, a sword was tossed towards him, which he caught with his free hand. He flipped it around in his hand so he held it by the blade and offered it to Vin.

As Vin passed, he glanced at Sam with a look of uncertainty. He simply scoffed and shook his head, which one of his hands touched gingerly. “Good luck,” he grumbled. He kept on walking and a shout sounded from behind a moment later. “Hey! Who took my rum?!”

Ignoring him, Vin took took the hilt of the sword and raised an eyebrow at the other man. “You want to fight me?” He asked.

Tajo let out a loud laugh and there were others that followed suit in the crowd around him. “No,” he said. “I want to teach ya.”

Vin let out a small laugh and glanced around. “Teach me to fight? I have survived this long, on my own, have I not?”

“On nothin’ but luck!” Tajo pointed out. He began to slowly circle Vin. “I’ve seen ya fight, mate,” he continued. “You are sloppy.” On the last word, he brought his blade out towards Vin, who jumped back and blocked it.

Tajo smiled. “You are fast, I’ll give ya that.” He held up his own sword and examined it. “But speed alone will not keep ya alive for long!” He turned and faced Vin, holding his sword out towards him. He gestured with his hand. “Come on. I will let ya take the first offensive.”

Vin raised his sword with a lazy hand and a cold look on his face. Suddenly, he gripped the hilt tighter and brought it around to his left before taking a powerful swing from the side. Tajo brought his own sword down to his right to block it. “Good,” he praised. “Again.”

Vin looked to the side and gave a small laugh. Suddenly, he snapped back into form and swung a skilled hand at Tajo, driving him a couple steps back. “Good,” Tajo praised as he blocked the blows, easily knocking Vin’s sword away each time. “Straighten your posture. Move your feet. There ya go!” He shouted instructions as they fought, and Vin listened to each one, immediately correcting himself. He could tell He made Tajo work harder with every adjustment and smirked.

“Great, now it’s my turn!” Tajo bellowed and switched from defense to attack.

Vin’s eyes widened slightly as Tajo’s power was released, his confidence draining as quickly as it had come. The taller and much more well built man held nothing back and Vin struggled to block every blow.

As he was driven backwards towards the crowd behind him, the familiar mix of panic and instinct took over. Once he reached a window of opportunity, Vin ducked under Tajo’s arm and kicked in the back of his knee.

Dark eyes wide in surprise, Tajo’s leg buckled and he staggered to the side. Vin drove an elbow down onto his shoulder, taking advantage of his momentary loss of balance and knocking him to the ground. Vin leaned back to avoid the flailing blade and kicked it out of Tajo’s hand as soon as he hit the deck and aimed his own at his throat.

Chest heaving with heavy breaths, Vin smiled in triumph as another round of bets were exchanged amongst the men. He tossed his sword to the ground and extended a hand to his fallen opponent, pulling him up.

Tajo laughed and clapped Vin on the shoulder. “I underestimated your style,” he commented, slightly out of breath. He swung a lazy arm forward in a slight gesture towards Vin. “Ya have fast feet, but that will not be enough against some opponents,” he said with a hint of serious warning in his voice. “Perhaps you could stand to get in some more practice.” He grabbed Vin’s wrist and pulled his arm into the air, facing the crowd. “Who wants to challenge our new champion?” He called out.

“I will.” The din sounding from deck was quickly hushed at the sound of Scarlet’s voice.

Tajo dropped Vin’s arm and they, along with the rest of the men, looked over to see Scarlet walking down the stairs with a smirk on her red lips, a pale scar the only sign left of her stitches.

The crowd parted and Tajo took a few steps back from Vin.

“Remember what I said about plottin’ b’fore!” A voice broke the silence and Vin whipped around to see Sam standing in the back, raising a bottle to Vin. “Good luck,” he grumbled half-heartedly before bringing it to his lips.

Suddenly, Scarlet raised her sword and brought it back down in a flash.

Vin jerked to the side and blocked it, but she had retracted as fast as she had attacked and spun, turning the momentum into a powerful side blow.

Vin jumped back, barely avoiding the point of the blade. Heart racing, he looked back to Scarlet, who was already going for his other side. He blocked multiple blows, waiting for a chance to reverse the odds.

Scarlet struck again and again, driving him backwards. Her face reflected nothing but deadly focus and hot rage and he saw no sign of her slowing down any time soon.

There was suddenly a moment when Scarlet’s blade lingered on Vin’s a moment too long. He snatched the opportunity and pushed back, using his own sword to twist hers away from him.

Just like that, Vin had the upper hand and she viciously knocked away each of his swings as he drove her back. He did his best to keep in mind Tajo’s hints, but they eventually drifted to the back of his mind. He may not have been the best swordsman, but that certainly did not mean he didn’t know how to fight.

With a ringing clash, he clenched his jaw and forced her sword away and sidestepped to get behind her.

Scarlet quickly switched her sword to the other hand and drove an elbow into his stomach with her right arm.

Taken by surprise as well as a bit of sudden nausea, Vin doubled over and staggered away. He looked up through dangling strands of dirty blonde hair. His breaths were heavy his his brown eyes shone with a newfound determination and he quickly regained himself.

Instead of waiting for Scarlet to come after him again, he wiped the smirked of her face with a swing he brought straight down upon her.

She blocked it with her eyes wide with shock and fury. Being significantly taller, Vin leaned into it, hovering above her with their blades crossed between them.

Scarlet knew the pressure was growing too much for her and she bared her teeth with the effort of throwing him off. As he stumbled forward, she spun so they faced the same direction and brought the hilt of her sword down on his back, sending him further forward.

She did another half spin to face him again, the hilt of her sword at eye level. However, in the split second she’d had her back turned, he had stood once more and seized her wrist before she could inflict more damage upon him.

Now Scarlet’s breathing was labored as she stood with her arm held tightly as high as it would extend. Vin’s glare was not cold and chilling as hers was, but rather burned with a hot intensity mere inches away.

Though the looks they exchanged seemed enough to kill, the fight was not yet over. Scarlet twisted to the side and yanked him towards her by the wrist with a grunt of effort, headbutting him in the temple.

Dazed, he released his grip on her. She took a step behind him and brought the heel of her boot into his back with a powerful kick that sent him to the ground.

Vin scrambled to turn and face her as she strode leisurely yet menacingly towards him. She brought her sword down, but he managed to block it with his own, propping himself up with his free arm.

Scarlet kicked his hand and his sword clattered to the deck. He watched it skid out of reach, his chest tightening with sudden dread.

Scarlet positioned herself over him and brought her boot into his shoulder, forcing him back to the ground.

Vin cried out in pain as she leaned into it, increasing the pressure.

She released her foot from his shoulder and kneeled down. She rested one arm on her knee, the other pressing the cold, curved blade of her sword against his neck.



The pain and numbness plaguing his left shoulder and right hand rendered them slack and useless. He struggled to hold his head away as he watched her eyes follow the blade until they reached his face. “Pity you had to cross me,” he murmured in a low, smooth tone that no one else could hear.

She moved the edge of the blade up to his jawbone, tilting her back and looking down upon him. Her lips parted slightly and the glint of her golden tooth could be seen.

Vin’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw, refusing to show fear as the pressure of her blade increased. He shut his eyes tight as he felt blood trickle down his neck.

Suddenly, Scarlet jerked her arm back and carved a deep laceration on Vin’s jaw.

A flash of pain hit him like a wave and he cried out again, louder than the last time. He opened his eyes, breathing heavily with hatred burning in them. He lifted his head, but Scarlet was gone.

He let his head drop back down as a wave of dizziness consumed him. He was vaguely aware of the warm, sticky blood that was escaping down his neck and into his hair.

After a moment, he shifted on his side with a groan and forced himself to his feet with his right arm. He had not noticed the ringing in his ears until the murmurs of the crew became clear. He felt more dazed than hurt and a dull throbbing in his temple became apparent.

Vin leaned heavily against the mast and turned his head to see Scarlet walking back up the stairs to the helm, her sheathed sword bouncing against her hip.

He was still watching her when he felt a grip on his arm pulling him away from the mast. He winced as the muffled word around him suddenly grew overwhelmingly loud and the ringing returned as he stumbled forward.

“Come on, lad,” Finnegan’s voice sounded, flat and unamused as he dragged Vin through the crowd behind him. “I swear to all that is holy, boy, you would be better off with Davy Jones.”

Footsteps echoed through her cabin as Scarlet paced before her table. Her hands were gripped tightly behind her back, nails pressing against her skin.

As soon as she allowed herself to look at the golden goblet, the ringing in her head grew louder. She could not even see the ring from where she stood, but it called to her.

Gradually, her pacing slowed to a stop and she stared at the cup with her hands behind her back.

☸

Vin wandered below deck as the night grew heavy. He’d had a severe concussion from the tussle with Scarlet, and his jaw was stitched up, but to him it was nothing serious. He was fully functioning in a day.

As he reached the hammock that he had claimed as his own, he kneeled to the ground and reached for something beneath it. He pulled out his faded green jacket and dark gray cloak. Since the day they were torn, he had not worn them for fear more damage would be caused. Though he had done his best to stitch them up and the job was actually not bad, they felt infinitely more delicate now.

He gripped the cloak in his hands and stood, letting it unfold before him. There was a clang followed by a light roll and a clatter on the floorboards as he did so. He lowered it and looked around until he spotted something shiny and reached down to pick it up.

He held the Chinese doubloon in his hand and looked at it, a smile flickering across his face.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

“Bring ‘er to half sail.”

Scarlet’s voice was not terribly loud, but echoed off the jagged rocks that surrounded the ship. They protruded through the surface of the still water like teeth, casting thick shadows over them.

Her lips parted as she looked up and overhead, watching pebbles tumble into the black water as the ship scraped lightly against it. Her grip tightened on the wheel.

Warren looked up as well and nudged Edwin with his Elbow. “Look.”

Edwin looked at his brother curiously, then up. The rest of the crew followed suit and murmurs broke out among them. The deeper they got, strange shapes in the rocks became more apparent.

“They’re… Ships,” Edwin said quietly.

Vin looked at the crew around him and raised an eyebrow, as they seemed confused as well. “Have you all not been this way before?” He asked.

Some men looked at him and some looked at Scarlet, but none said a word.

Thorton looked down upon them from his place beside Scarlet. Brows furrowed, he pulled a compass from his pocket and held it steady. “We are still on course,” he announced before snapping it shut and shooting a concerned glance at Scarlet.

She met it, then looked forward again. “It’s just a detour,” she said casually. “Now will ye all quit shiverin’ in yer boots?” She was troubled, but hid it well. They had indeed been this way before, and the obstructions had not been there. She shrugged it off, figuring they were only slightly off course. She would know her way back on course soon enough. “Just keep ‘er off the rocks,” she added hastily.

“Shut yer traps, the lot o’ ye!” Sam shouted, seeming to be listening intently for something.

“I don’t hear any-”

“Shh,” Sam cut Warren off and the crew fell silent. Soon enough, a foreign sound became apparent, echoing from a distance. Sam scrunched his face in disgust, as a cringe-worthy screeching reached his ears. “It sounds like-”

“- singing,” Scarlet finished, looking around for the source.

“It’s beautiful,” Thorton agreed.

Sam looked at them with a start as if they were spouting insane nonsense. “‘ave you two got cotton in yer ears?” He scoffed.

“Quiet,” Warren snapped, and Sam whipped around to see that a dreamy look had been cast over his face.

Sam glanced around at the crew and realized every one of them had a glaze in their eyes and slumped into a stupor. His hands instinctively flew to his ears as the screeching grew louder. As his mind was silenced by the action and he was allowed to think, realization trickled down his face. “Ohh,” Sam murmured, his eyes growing wide. “Oh, seven ‘ells,” he groaned, running to the edge of the deck and leaning over the rail.

He peered far down into the black water, waiting for something to show itself. Suddenly, there was a small ripple upon it. Just under the surface, he spotted a creature. His eyes found the tail first. Whip-like and longer than he was. It was nearly black with sharp, short fins protruding from it. Eventually the color lightened to a sickly gray as the form seemed to become the upper body of a woman. Fins much like those on the tail adorned the arms and the long, spindle-like fingers were webbed. He tried to find the head, but there was nothing there. No- there was something. It looked like a reflection in a disturbed pond. Faces of people he knew. He stared as the faces flashed by, one after another.

Fear seized Sam.

Sirens.

He blinked hard and shook his head slightly, stepping back from the rail. As he looked around, he noticed the disarray the crew was in. Men were calling out to nothing, though he could not understand them over the basted wailing. They were leaning dangerously over the edge and a couple had even burst into tears.

Off to his side, Warren even had a foot up on the rail, murmuring under his breath. Sam stepped forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the edge. “‘ave ye gone mental?” He shouted at him. Warren simply ignored him and wandered back to the edge.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to the other side of the deck, where a webbed hand reached over the edge towards Vin.

Sam broke into a run and grabbed the bottle he had left on a crate earlier on the way. He shoved Vin back, despite the protests that escaped him, and swung the bottle at the Siren’s… “head”.

To Sam’s surprise, the bottle shattered against the side of the ship, not the creature’s head, which has parted like water.

Nonetheless, the siren cried out and fell back into the water. After a moment of hesitation, Sam straightened up and allowed himself a satisfied smirk, still holding the broken bottle. However, when he looked to his side Vin was back at the rail.

Sam dropped the bottle and drug his hands down his face in hopelessness. He looked up at the helm in hopes he would find consultation, but the Captain and first mate were in bo better state than the rest of the crew.

Thorton slumped over the wheel, propping his head up with his hand and watching Scarlet dreamily as she dangled over the rail like a ragdoll.

Sam shook his head in disappointment until an idea came to his mind. An absurdly brilliant idea, he thought.

No sooner had he thought this absurdly brilliant thought than a noise rose above the caterwaul of sirens. A pleasant yet daunting ringing sound. His head turned towards the Captain’s quarters. That was where it came from, he was sure of it.

With brisk steps he made his way to the double doors. Once he reached them, he kicked one open and stormed inside.

The first thing he found was not what he was looking for. The first thing he found was Benny huddled against the wall on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes.

Sam raised an eyrbrow. “What are ye doin’ in here, boy?”

Benny looked around the room when back at Sam and simply shrugged. “Well get up,” Sam demanded, walking over and hauling Benny to his feet by the arm. “If yer workin’ proper, yer gonna help,” he said. “Now go make sure no one falls overboard.”

Benny nodded and started to run out then paused and turned around. “Are you going to tell anybody…”

“About you cowerin’ in the corner?” Sam said, busy tearing apart the room looking for the ring. “In case you hadn’t notice, we’ve got problems bigger than yer cowardice.”

Benny smiled then paused again. “Hey, why aren’t we-”

“Go!” Sam roared, facing him and shooing him off. Benny ran out with a start and Sam sighed and looked around. He followed the ringing until his eyes stopped on a golden goblet. A smirk reached his face as he sauntered over and retrieved the opal and gold ring.

Just then he heard a cry from the deck. Sam quickly slipped the ring on his finger and rushed out of the large room.

“A little help?” Benny called, leaning back on his heels as he held Bishop’s shirt trying to keep the man from leaning too far over the rail.

Sam approached them and pulled on Bishop’s shirt, sending the man stumbling backwards. He then looked down at the ring, ignoring the chaos around him. “Alright, how do ye work…” He grumbled. After a moment, he shrugged and jerked his hand into the air. As he did so, the ship was carried up by a large wave and hit the cliffs above, splinters raining down upon them.

Sam cringed and Benny struggled to catch himself from losing his balance. “What is that?” Benny gasped, hovering by Sam.

Sam dropped his arms and looked at Benny, frustrated. “Do I need to tell ye again or do you want to explain to the Cap’n why ‘er brother became siren meat?” He gestured to Edwin and Benny scampered off.

Sam glanced over the rail and looked at the ring again, his hand in a fist. “Forward!” He punched it forward through the air, but the ship only rocked slightly. A gnarr of frustration rose in his throat as he tried it again. “Come on, ye good fer nothin… Forward!” This time the force of the jolt sent him flying backwards and landing hard on the deck.

He looked to either side and noticed half of the other men had fallen as well and were shouting protests at nothing.

He saw a few men, including Edwin, tugging at something and realized Benny had tied their wrists to the rail and was working on more, having only stumbled slightly in his concentration. Not bad, Sam thought, knowing the men were too out of sorts to untie themselves. At least not for a while.

Sam scrambled to his feet and up the stairs to the helm. He pulled Thorton off the wheel, who crumpled limply to the the ground, and took hold of it himself. He could still hear the screeching of sirens, though it was behind them after the rush forward. They had gained speed and Sam tried desperately to maneuver around the jagged rocks, but the ship crashed and lurched after hitting a few. He winced and glanced at Scarlet, not expecting her to be too happy when she came to.

As they slowed, the screeching only grew louder again. Sam glanced behind him and saw a splashing horde on their tail. He looked ahead again, realizing what was ahead was only a solid wall of stone. Panic welled in him and he let go of the wheel, pulling the ring off and holding it tight in his hand. He brought it close to his face and closed his eyes shut. “Up,” he whispered, pouring all his focus into controlling the sea. “Up, up, up!” He cried out, sweat on his brow.

Suddenly, a wave of control seemed to hit him and he let out a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he had to squint against the brightness of the afternoon sun. The stones around them had decreased drastically in height and were sinking fast. He smiled and let out a nervous laugh. Glancing behind him, he saw the sirens falling back with wails of fear.

He paused and his smile fell. Looking forward again, he noticed the ship was balanced upon a massive rogue wave that was beginning to fall back into the sea. Dread washed over him.

“Sam!” His head whipped in the direction of Benny’s cry as the boy pointed frantically at the other end of the deck, holding tight to a rope holding a crew member with the other hand.

Sam followed his gesture to see Vin teetering on the rail below. “Oh, for the lovea,” Sam howled. Grumbling under his breath in frustration, he hoisted Thorton back onto the wheel, who had merely been sitting cross-legged beside him, happy as a clam. He pulled Scarlet off the rail and onto the ground beside Thorton as a precaution before rushing down the stairs.

Once he reached him, Sam snatched Vin by the collar and hauled him backwards. The two men flew back as the ship crashed back down into level water, sending them sprawling onto their backs.

As she ship settled, groans began to sound over the crew, confused and somehow floored. A laugh, however, escaped Sam. He lied sprawled on the deck with a hand on his forehead and laughed, relief washing over him. Still chuckling, he propped himself up on his elbow and glanced over at Vin.

Vin groaned and propped himself up. “What happened,” he asked no one in particular.

“Sirens,” Sam said, breathing heavily. “Sirens happened.”

Vin looked at him, slightly confused. “Sirens?” He studied Sam for a moment. “Why were you not affected?”

Sam glanced at him and away again, his smile fading. “Sirens take advantage of yer longing an’ desire.” He looked at Vin again and his smile returned in good humor, though his eyes looked suddenly empty. “I ‘ave nothin’ to want.” His gaze traveled to Benny, helping men up and profusely apologizing for having to tie them down. His expression fell further.

Vin followed his eyes and looked at Benny for a moment before looking down again, deciding not to press the matter. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the wooden planks below him. “They become what you desire?” He began to shake his head and uttered a very fake laugh. “That is impossible.”

Sam looked at him and smirked at his denial. “Why? Who did you see?”

“Oi, useless!” Both Sam and Vin turned their heads at Scarlet’s call. Standing at the hull, she rolled her eyes. “Drunk useless!”

Sam smiled and got to his feet, patting Vin on the shoulder. “That’s me!” He confirmed as he made his way up the stairs to the helm.

Vin watched him approach her as he hauled himself to his feet as well. He noticed Thorton stood beside Scarlet in his usual place, but more stiff and rigid than before. Vin brushed it off as fear and turned to walk away. He paused a moment after a step or two and glanced over his shoulder one more time before continuing on his way.

Scarlet took a hand off the wheel and held it out as Sam approached, looking at him expectantly.

Sam sighed dramatically and pressed the ring into her hand, which she quickly snatched away and placed it deep into her pocket.

“So…” Warren’s voice rang out over the deck as he glanced around then up at Scarlet. “Am I the only one who’d rather stay back there?”

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

The summer sun beat down upon the rolling hills of Abruzzo, Italy. There was not a cloud to be found in the blue sky. Nothing but the sound of wind and the occasional bird penetrated the miles of silent fields. One Vinyard in particular held a different kind of silence. The eerie kind that one would wish to end but would not dare break. Exactly a year ago, the owner of the land had passed away, leaving in the hands of his wife. She had excused the workers from their labor this day in a mourning gesture. It was her voice that now broke through the hush.

“Vinazio Giovanni!”

The owner of the name had been laying in the shade of twisting grape vines, watching them blow in the breeze. His head rested on his hands and his legs were crossed. Rather than mourning as he should have been, he had wandered from the villa until the air of sadness had gone. He enjoyed the silence, as out here it was more of the peaceful kind.

He sat up when he heard the faint drifting of the woman’s voice calling his name. He took another bite of the apple in his hand before rising to his feet. He made his way back towards the villa, his steps long and slow as he admired the scenery.

Eventually, a woman came into view on the outdoor steps. She began to shout at him in Italian and he smiled, though the words were lost to the breeze before reaching his ears. Her words became clearer, however, the closer he got.

“Move your legs faster, boy. You think I have time to stand out here all day and wait for you?” She was petite and delicate, though her hands were strong with years of fieldwork. She wore an elegant maroon dress, though it was not too extravagant in the slightest. Her face was long, and her features still beautiful as she seemed aged beyond her years. Her brown eyes were as firey as a young woman’s and her long, fine, dark hair was wrapped in a neat braid.

Vin smiled and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back and facing her. “Good morning, mama,” he cooed.

The woman sighed and looked him up and down. “When will you learn to dress properly?” She snapped, though her tone was softer; tired, even. Vin began to speak, but she held up a quick hand to silence him. “Today has brought much news,” she informed him.

Vin tipped his head. “What kind of news?” He asked curiously.

However, his mother did not answer. She simply sighed again and examined him with a disappointed gaze. “You really ought to be married by now,” she said before turning and walking back into the villa.

Vin followed her and crossed his arms tightly. “Please, do not start this again…”

“That is nonsense, Vinazio,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You must move on from Imilia.” He visibly flinched at her name, but said nothing. “Some comfort must be taken in knowing she is with God.” Isabetta glanced back at him. Noticing how her son’s face had fallen, her own softened and she cleared her throat. “Catelina was lovely enough. Who better than someone you have known since childhood?”

“Which is exactly why I turned her down,” Vin argued, thankful to be off the subject of Imilia. “I could not see much more than a little girl.”

“That was not an excuse with Paula,” she retorted.

“She was far too obedient. Hardly human,” Vin pointed out. “What is this about, mother? It is not like we need the dowry.”

“Only you would complain about a woman being too obedient,” she murmured under her breath. Isabetta stopped and turned to face him. “Of course it is not about the dowry.” She paused with a sigh. “Is it so wrong for me to wish to have grandchildren before I die? Even Fi-” she stopped short and glanced around casually before looking at Vin again.

He raised a questioning eyebrow, suddenly serious. “What about Fia?”

Irritation spread upon her face once more. “Do not call her that. There is nothing wrong with the name I gave her.”

“Mother, what about Fia?” Vin repeated, holding up his hands to accompany the severity in his voice.

Isabetta sighed in defeat and her eyes traveled to the ground. “She wanted to tell you herself.” She fiddled with her fingers as she turned with quick movements to the staircase in the entry hall. “Fiorenza!” She called, resting her hand on the rail. “Fiorenza my love, Vinazio is back from his romping about!” Her tone changed from sweet to ridiculing in an instant and Vin heaved a sigh.

A rushing could then be heard as a young woman appeared rushing down the stairs. One hand slid down the rail and the other held her pale blue dress up from under her feet. She looked so much like Isabetta, with her long, slender features. Her dark eyes focused on the steps ahead of her and her long dark hair was only half pinned, as if she had been in the process of fixing it up. “Oh Vinnie, I am glad you are back!” Their mother rolled her eyes. She was never a fan of nicknames and strongly disliked the idea of a person being called by a name they were not given at birth.

Fia soon reached the bottom of the stairs. She clasped her hands before her and stepped towards him with a wide smile. “I have wonderful news!”

Vin could not help but smile a bit at her excitement, despite his best efforts. “So I hear,” he commented.

“You remember the Englishmen that came to visit not long ago?”

Vin nodded and his smile faltered. He shifted his footing and crossed his arms with a nod. “Yes. What of them?”

Fia’s smile grew wider. “Do you remember John Hasset?” She pressed.

Vin glanced around in thought a moment before offering a hesitant nod. “What of him?”

Fia glanced at her mother then back at Vin. “I received a letter from Port Royal today. It turns out that he is a Commander in the Navy of the British Colonies,” she practically squealed. She then paused and stepped closer to her brother, putting a hand on his tensed arm and smiling reassuringly at him. “He has asked for my hand in marriage,” she burst.

“Marriage?!” Vin shouted, taking a step back. His actions caused Fia to frown, the approval of her elder brother having meant more to her than their mother’s. “Port Royal?!” He scoffed, looking accusingly at Isabetta. “And you are alright with this?!” He demanded. “She is only seventeen years old!” He said in a pleading tone, holding his hands before him.

Isabetta stayed composed and wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “A proper age for marriage,” she snapped. Vin was taken aback by the accusation in her tone. “He is a figure of respect; an admirable feat for such a young man. She will not do much better than a Commander.”

“Admirable?” Vin scoffed. “The man who did not even have the decency to ask for my little sister’s hand in person?”

“Please, Vinazio,” Fia pleaded, stepping away from her mother’s grasp. “I know I will be happy. It would mean so much to me if you were as well.”

Vin looked at her for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh, his face falling. He stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug, which she gladly returned. “You know I would never stand in the way of your happiness,” he admitted with strained effort. The then held her back by her shoulders and looked at her as she tried her best to keep a smile off her lips. “Listen to me, Fia. You will be half a world away, but we will see you again,” he promised, tilting his head slightly up and smiling as he said it.

“Thank you, brother,” Fia sighed in relief.

“Vinazio.” The chilling tone of his mother sounded behind his sister. Though now, there was slightly more pity in it. He turned to look at her questioningly. “That is not the only news I wish to share with you.”

Vin’s arms slowly dropped to his sides and he approached her. “What is it, mother?” he asked, noticing her discomfort.

Her eyes traveled to the floor then to her equally puzzled daughter. “Fiorenza, go finish fixing your hair,” she said, nodding towards the stairs.

Hesitantly, Fia obeyed. Isabetta then took Vin’s arm and led him slowly back outside. “Come with me.”

“What is this about?” Vin asked as they emerged into the summer sunlight.

“It is about your father,” Isabetta admitted.

Vin stopped and pulled his arm away to face her. “My father?” he repeated in surprise. He did not have the same father as Fiorenza. Hers had married his mother years before and owned the vineyard they now lived on. He was a wealthy, strict man that Vin had respected. He had known nothing, however, of his own father; not even his name. He was born with his mother’s maiden name, as she was never married to her father. He had always felt protective over her, as it took her years of struggle to find an accepting husband. It was strange to hear her speak of him, and he was not sure what to feel.

Isabetta sighed and avoided eye contact with Vin. She pulled a letter out of her sleeve and held it out to him. “This message came for you this morning. I do not know what it says, but I know why it is here.” He took the note gently and looked at her as she spoke with furrowed brows, silently pressing her to speak. Her tone grew quieter, nearly inaudible. “He has passed away, Vinazio.”

Surprise reached Vin’s face, but he could not pick out any other emotion. What was he supposed to feel? Pain? Loss? He had not known the man. He had been practically dead to him already. Nevertheless, he could not help but feel a slight pang of disappointment.

His mother remained silent as Vin began to open the note. He paused suddenly and spoke quietly without meeting his mother’s eye. “I would like to open this on my own.”

Isabetta hesitated before nodding and turning back into the villa, leaving Vin to si on a stone bench nearby and gaze upon the parchment in his hands. He took a breath and continued to open it, hastier than before. As he looked upon the neatly scrawled ink, this is what he read in broken Italian:


My dearest Vinazio,


I cannot imagine what you may have come to think of me in the fatherless years of your life, my son. Before anything else is said, I wish for you to know that I am deeply sorry for my absence. I do not know what your mother has told you about me, but I was merely passing through Italy when I met her. I’m sure she is as beautiful today as she was then, just as I am sure you have grown into a fine young man.

You may have wondered why I never returned for the two of you. When you were small, I begged Isabetta to come with me, but she refused to leave her home in Italy, and refused to expose you to the imminent dangers of my journeys. Nevertheless, I could not stay. I had dedicated my life to my research and my selfishness would not allow me to give it up. I continued on alone, never once forgetting about you. My search developed a new motivation. For the first time in my life, I cared about something other than myself. Alas, after years of traveling, my hunt was only fruitless. That is when I returned, Vinazio. I returned to the family I held in my heart all those years. You had been twelve at the time; I doubt you remember. Your mother had already married Bernardo and held his daughter in her arms when she met with me at the villa. I remember because she had called to you to take her as we spoke. You had looked at me as a stranger, but that is not what I saw in you. Your hair held the color of the sun as mine did when I was young. Your eyes were those of your mother’s. It caused me no greater pain knowing that you did not know me and never would. I had not done a thing with my life that had brought me joy, and tossed aside what could. For that my dear boy, I could not be more sorry.

I have left possessions of value to you as my last wish. They could not risk being sent by carrier and you must claim them at my home in Pontevedra. I know it is an inconvenience, but I hope you will take them, otherwise I fear they will be lost.

Your father at heart,
Luis de Azconza


Vin lost count of how many times he read the letter. Every time his eyes became faster as they scanned the paper. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. He was overcome with a wide range of emotion. Rage that his father had left him and his mother. Surprise that he claimed to care at all, and in fact left “items of value” to him. He felt an obligation to retrieve them, and a reluctance to leave his mother alone, especially with Fia due to be off to Port Royal soon enough.

He sat, deep in thought for a long while before making a decision. He stood and slowly made his way back into the villa. He did not call out, but rather searched for his mother himself. Confusion pulsed through him but he shook it off. He knew what he would do.

He rounded a corner to find his mother, standing wide-eyed with her hands clasped before her. Her expression hardened as soon as he came into view, from worry and fear to completely unreadable as it usually was.

His face folded into a frown as he waved the letter in the air. “How could you?” He demanded in a low voice, stopping nearly nose to nose with her. “Even when he came back you hid the truth from me!”

Anger flashed in her face and she met his eyes. “I did what was best for you!” She insisted, jabbing a finger into his chest and forcing him back. “Had you been me, you would have done the same!”

“I remember,” Vin said quietly, his voice ringing with accusation. I liked his hair, he thought silently, figuring the thought to sound too feeble and pathetic to speak aloud. His own hair fell into his face, the same color as he remembered his father’s being but with less gray. He ran his fingers through it in frustration, bushing it away with a groan and storming to a nearby bench, sitting heavily with his hands folded in his lap and his head hanging low.

Isabetta’s sympathetic gaze followed him to the bench before she moved to comfort her son. She walked over slowly, the click and echo of her shoes making him turn his head slightly. She sat beside him and reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.

They sat in silence for a long moment before he spoke. “He wants me to go to Pontevedra.”

Isabetta stiffened. “He has left you something?” She asked, though her tone made it sound more like a statement.

Vin turned his head and looked at her in surprise. “Yes,” He answered, searching her face for emotion but she refused to meet his eyes. “What is it, mother?” He asked gently.

She glanced at him with a sad smile. “You will be gone for a very long time,” she said.

He offered a smile. “I will be back before you know I even left.”

Her smile faltered and she looked down. “You will be gone for much longer than that.”

Vin leaned closer and embraced her and she fell against him. She felt so frail to him as she grew in age. He noticed a few strands of shining silver running through her dark hair. As they sat in silence, he developed the feeling that she knew something he didn’t.

She jerked away suddenly and stood. Before she turned he could have sworn he saw the threat of glistening tears in her eyes. “Go on and pack. Best to leave when the air is cool.”

He perked up and raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?” The thought created a knot in his stomach. He Had never left Abruzzo. He hardly ever left the vineyard. Travelling to a different city would have been enough of an adventure, but all the way to Spain? He felt dizzy with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

“The sooner you leave the sooner you can return,” Isabetta said with a small smile. “Now go,” she continued, shooing him up the stairs.

He gave her an assuring smile before ascending and she stood at the bottom watching, tears that had only been a threat moments before spilling down her face.

Vin stood just outside the stables with the reins of his dark gray horse in one hand. His mother threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. He smiled and hugged her back. “I promise to hurry back.”

“No,” she said quickly with a sniffle. She took a step back and looked at him with a smile. “Do not worry about me. Go wherever the adventure takes you.”

He looked at her slightly puzzled. He was only going to Pontevedra and back. Surely she did not think he would leave her?

“Don’t forget this,” Fia said quickly, handing him a dark gray cloak.

He took it from her and threw it over his shoulders, tying it tightly before him. She waited impatiently for him to be done before slamming herself into him with a hug tight around his waist. “I suppose we’ll both be adventurers soon,” she said.

“Do not worry,” he said, kissing the top of her head then holding her back by the shoulders with a smile. “I told you I would see you again and I meant it. I will not forget about you, Fia.”

She smiled, though her own eyes brimmed with tears.

She let go and Vin took a few steps back before turning to mount his horse. He traveled lightly, but the saddlebags were full of small things like money and food. His horse took a few steps back and Vin waved. As they waved back, he looked at his family for what he knew would be the last time in a very long time.

Finally, he turned and was off.

It had been a slow, uneventful two months on the road. Vin had been utterly bored with the whole thing and hoped whatever his father had left him would be worth the journey.

Pontevedra was a beautiful city much unlike anything he was used to. He was used to every direction you looked being nothing but rolling hills. Pontevedra was a port down with condensed streets and houses. He did not think he had ever seen so many people he didn’t know all at once. However, he was not here to sightsee. He was there for a purpose.

Asking for directions proved to be a challenge, but at the same time easier than he had expected. He had ultimately dismounted his horse and walked through the streets, feeling awkward so high above the walking people. Though the city was big and he did not speak Spanish, most people seemed to know the name Luis de Azconza and pointed him in the right direction.

Eventually he came upon a very run down house off on its own near the docks of the port. Vin loosely tied his horse to a plank over one of the windows and hesitantly opened the door with an echoing creak.

He cringed, not realizing how silent it had been before the noise. Cautiously, he stepped inside. He took slow steps, his eyes darting back and forth.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Maybe he shouldn’t even have been there. Perhaps his father’s house had been the wrong place to go.

He paused and mulled over the thought a moment longer before deciding to leave. However, once he turned around, something flashed in the corner of his eye. He stopped and glanced over in the direction it came from.

Sitting on a table at the edge of the room, there was a shining object lying on a piece of paper. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the boarded up window.

Vin approached it carefully, floorboards squealing in protest underfoot. He stopped in front of the table and looked down upon a key on a piece of torn parchment. The object was a key on a string. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand, confusion stirring in his mind. Then he looked back to the paper only to find a single, Italian word written on it.

Down.

Down? That’s it? He sighed in frustration. That wasn’t much help in the slightest. Had he travelled that entire way for one word and a dull key?

He stood there for a moment, refusing to drop everything and go home. Down, down… Then the most absurd thought came to his mind. Down! He quickly looked down at his feet, but frowned when he saw nothing.

Figuring why not, he dropped to his knees in search of something that may have been too small to notice from his height.

After a while searching for some small object that obviously wasn’t there, Vin leaned back and questioned his sanity with a heavy sigh.

That is when something caught his eye. A crack in the floor that didn’t belong. Upon closer inspection, he deduced that it was a trap door.

Excitement rushed through him and he glanced around as a precaution, though he knew no one else was there. He then leaned forward and pried the door open with his fingers.

It groaned upon open, sending a cloud of dust up from its depths. Vin coughed and used his free hand to wave it away.

He draped the string with the key on it around his neck and carefully ducked inside. He lowered himself down the hole and closed the door behind him.

There was enough light leaking through the floorboards for the space to be dimply lit. It was tall enough for him to stand in, but just barely. It was not very large and it took him only a moment to find a second table with a sealed envelope upon it. There was a chair in front of it with an old, faded green coat draped over the back.

He coughed a bit more and wandered over to the table. He picked up the envelope and with the striped light from above, he read the name upon it.





He tore it open fervently and retrieved the contents. He unfolded one of the two papers and revealed a large map of the two Atlantic coasts. There were markings all over it. Words and arrows and things he didn’t recognize. Growing increasingly more curious, he hastily set it down and unfolded the second paper.

He immediately recognized the handwriting of his father from the letter he had received two months earlier. He hesitated, dread welling in his chest for reasons he did not understand. He shook his head and began to read it.


Vinazio,


I knew you would make it this far. What I have to say next is very important.

I have spent my life searching for a lost treasure. I was afraid my journeys had been futile, but this last year I have found the last key to El Dorado.

I write this as I lie in bed dying of sickness. I am afraid I do not have much time, so listen closely.

If all has gone according to plan, you will have found the first key on the table above. This is my gift to you, my son. Incentive to begin a journey I hope you will take.

There is a total of six keys.The next key is in Oslo, Norway. It is safe with my good friend the Duke Egil Haraldsson. We have never spoken in person, but have kept in close contact over the years by letter, as he is interested in the treasure and agreed to assist me. With this knowledge, and if you have half your mother’s wit, I have confidence you will be able to pass as me long enough to retrieve the key.

There is another in Merseyside, England. I’ve caught wind of an attempt at the key back in 1696, but I do not believe it was found. They keep it well hidden.

For the rest it will be necessary to travel across the Atlantic to the Caribbean Sea. There is a key in Port Royal. Last I heard it is traded every now and then between the higher ranks of the navy. It will be. It will be difficult to get to.

I have even less information on the last two, but I trust you will be able to figure it out. There is a key on Rum Cay. The island is not very large; I assume it will be among the easier to find. All I know of the last one is it is at the mouth of a great river further south.

That is all the information I have to give. I hope you will carry on what I have started and prosper in the wealth you will find.

the best of luck to you my son,
Luis de Azconza

P. S. If it fits, the coat is yours. A piece of me to carry with you.


A heavy thud sounded overhead and Vin cringed, letting out a slight gasp. His heart thudded in his chest and he forced himself to calm down. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, three figures visible through the floorboards. He watches as dust poured to the ground with each heavy-booted step they took.

“There’s someone else here!” A high, rodent-like voice called, whistling through it’s teeth.

“Will you shut it, Maus?” A thundering voice boomed. “Lookit this place! There ain’t nobody ‘ere!”

“Well there’s a ‘orse outside, in’t there?” He countered.

“Well if there is somebody ‘ere, go shoo the ‘orse away so they can’t leave!” He instructed slowly.

The shuffling sound of the man scrambling out of the house was heard and Vin was left with two pairs of boots above his head. “Well looky ‘ere,” the deeper voice said, shuffling through drawers. “These are some fancy jewels, ain’t they?”

Vin silently cursed himself. Once for losing his horse. A second time for not checking any drawers. At the same time, he thanked his stepfather for forcing years of English upon he and his sister.

“Remember what Captain Waters said.” This voice was new. Sharp and clipped. It sounded proper, and very much English.

Captain Waters? Vin mouthed the name to himself in disbelief. It couldn’t be...

He heard the owner of the deeper voice slowly turn to face the other man. “The cap’n ain’t here, now is she? You ain’t the favorite anymore Commodore, so keep in quiet b’fore I wring that pretty li’le neck o’ yours.”

There was a long moment of silence and Vin could almost feel the tension crackle all the way from where he was.

That’s when the third man ran back in. “It’s gone. I shooed it away,” he announced.

“Good on ya,” the bigger man said mockingly. “Now let’s look for that map.”

Vin tensed and his eyes flickered to the map on the table. Sweat began to bead on his brow and he realized he was holding his breath.

He heard one of the men pick up the paper on the table, which was quickly snatched by the larger man. “What in Davy Jones’s locker is is diú?” Vin heard the paper be torn in half and crumpled, then thrown to the floor.

“That could have been important,” the dignified voice hissed.

“There’s nothin’ here,” the larger man announced, ignoring the statement. He began to lumber towards the door. “I wanna get back to the ship b’fore sundown. I’m starvin’.” The other two men followed reluctantly.

Vin was not sure how long he waited to move. He was still from being still so long. He allowed himself to take a breath and quickly gathered the letter and map, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He paused and snatched the coat off the chair as well, pulling it on under his cloak and slipped the map and letter into an inside pocket.

He dragged the chair over and positioned it under the trap door. He proceeded to stand on it and pushed the hatch open. He pulled himself up and scrambled to his feet, rushing out the door. He stopped once he was out there, his breath coming heavy for no reason he could pin. He looked one way to confirm that his horse was indeed gone. It was. He looked in the other direction, where he saw three men in the distance, making their way towards the water.

He stood, looking back and forth and clenching and unclenching his hands. A million things rushed in his head and suddenly the weight of the map and letter in his coat felt like lead. The minute the three men disappeared from sight, Vin’s impulse took over and he did an impossible thing.

He followed.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

Vin sat in a secluded corner below deck. He sat on a barrel in the shadows, leaning over something he held.

Not having dared to light a candle, he held the map closer to his face, straining his eyes to get a closer look at the markings around Port Royal.

Meanwhile, Scarlet was making her way down the stairs. She was on her way to check on the dwindling supplies herself; a habit she had fallen into every time they made part after an incident that happened two years prior where the men with this job claimed there to be less rum and more food than there actually was.

With quick, quiet steps she passed a doorway and noticed a figure in the corner of her eye. She glanced over to see Vin sitting alone and narrowed her eyes in suspicion, slowly slipping behind the wall she had just passed. She peered around it and focused on what he was holding, struggling to make it out in the dim light.

He shifted and she got a clear view of a map, her eyes widening as she realized what it was. “That bastard!” She hissed under her breath.

Swearing he heard something, Vin glanced over his shoulder and quickly rolled up the map, shoving it into his coat pocket.

Scarlet had quickly pressed her back against the wall so he did not see her, silently fuming. That no-good, lyin’ rat! She thought bitterly, her eyes darting back and forth along the floorboards in disbelief, her fingers gripping the wall behind her. He had gotten the best of her for the last time.

“Is someone there?” His voice called out low, having twisted his torso slightly so he was facing the doorway.

Scarlet rested her head on the wall and closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath in an attempt to restrain her violent impulses before rounding the corner and showing herself.

Vin stood immediately. “Captain,” he greeted casually, though there was a cold, cautious ring to his voice.

“We’ve almost made port,” Scarlet announced, quickly thinking up something to say that was not entirely false. “Yer needed on deck.” She spat the words out like venom. Resentment coated her voice but she forced down her anger.

Turning quickly, she made her way back up the stairs, her voice fading as she called out the names of Sam, Tajo, Thorton, and her brothers.

Allowing his composure to slump in relief, Vin let out a breath and pushed his hair back before following Scarlet to the deck.

As soon as he made it up there, a rush of thick, humid air rushed over him. The salt in the air became less of a cool touch and more uncomfortably sticky. It was twilight, but the sun’s heat still lingered. He squirmed slightly, wishing he could take of his could but knowing very well why he could not.

His attention was taken by the port ahead of him. Port Royal was not as impressive a town as he had originally imagined. It was small and flat and he thought the name was rather misleading. Despite all this, the scenery was breath taking. Even with the sun sinking fast he didn’t know water could hold such beauty.

“Edwin,” Scarlet said hastily, walking up to her eldest brother. “Watch the ship while we’re gone, yes?” She said in a low voice.

Edwin nodded and glanced around. “Of course,” he answered cooly. He may not have known much about ships, but he knew how to take charge and she knew it.

She turned towards Vin and composed herself. “What are we looking for?” She asked flatly.

Vin looked around at the others then cleared his throat, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “The key rotates between members of the navy.” He felt Thorton stiffen, but brushed it off and continued. “They keep it close. They keep it safe.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought. “At this time of night, it would probably be in one of the houses.” The others looked at him expectantly, but he only shrugged. “That is all I know.”

Scarlet thought it over and gave a curt nod. She gestured to Vin and Thorton. “You two go west,” she instructed. Looking at Tajo with a nod, she continued. “You’re north, with me.” She looked at Sam and Warren and hesitated, questioning her decision to have them together. Eventually she shook it off and concluded with, “East.” The two of them nodded in understanding. Her eyes lingered on them just a moment longer before turning towards the dock. “Alright, come on then,” she called. “Anyone not back by sunrise gets left behind.” She continued down the ramp without looking back and the men scrambled to follow.

By the time they got to the end of the dock, Warren and Sam had wandered off and Scarlet had flicked her fingers towards Tajo, a subtle motion for him to follow.

By the time this had happened, Vin was only just approaching Thorton and watched the others leave as he came to a stop beside him. “So where should we start?” He asked.

Thorton simply looked at him with an unamused expression and Vin glanced at him. “West,” he said simply, and headed in that direction himself.

Vin straightened up and glanced around before scampering after him.

They slunk in silence around the dingy streets of Port Royal. Lingering heat and humidity from the day before continued to drift through the air. There was nary a sound other than the occasional splash in a mud puddle.

The two men rounded a brick corner into another alleyway. Oil streetlamps lit the path before them dimly. They straightened up and walked calmly as to not attract attention. Vin’s eyes wandered cautiously, observing his surroundings. A pair of women with pale faces and red lips eyed them as they passed. Close behind him, Thorton kept his eyes straight ahead and focused.

“Do you see anything that looks… Useful?” Vin murmured to Thorton after a long while of maneuvering through the city.

“All the buildings look the same,” Thorton growled in quiet frustration.

Vin shrugged in silent agreement, looking around again. Suddenly, a sound reached his ears. “Shh,” Vin snapped suddenly. He covered Thorton’s mouth and shoved him against a wall, standing with his back against it as well. Thorton pulled Vin’s hand off his mouth, and shot him a questioning glance.

Vin simply met his eyes then glanced behind him as he saw the two raggedy women vanish through a wooden door. Shouting voices could be heard, deep and gruff. The two men pressed close against the wall, far enough from the penetrating light of a single lamp to be swathed in shadow.

Suddenly, there was the voice of a woman accompanying the two masculine ones, all three shouting but the words were not audible. Vin quickly looked at Thorton and the two men exchanged troubled glances. Vin looked away again and peeked around the corner, Thorton leaning forward to do the same.

The men shied back as a lamplighter, late on it’s rounds, lit a lamp before them. They squinted, trying to peer through the light to see the scene. It was still clearly there, though distant. As their eyes adjusted, a struggle could be seen far enough away to be only just illuminated, still visually unclear.

The lamplighter continued towards it, seemingly oblivious, and lit the lamp beside them. The scene quickly became clearer. Two guards were attempting to restrain a young woman. Though the two received plenty of injuries at her hand from the struggle, they were effectively pulling her away. She lashed again and one of the guards brought a fist into her stomach, doubling her over.

Suddenly, Vin left the cover of the wall and began to take long strides towards them. “Wait- What are you doing?!” Thorton demanded in a frantic hiss, but Vin completely ignored him.

“Toglimi le mani di dosso, voi figlio di troia!” He roared, speaking rapidly and waving his arms in jerking motions.

The shouting caught the attention of the guards. The girl attempted to look up weakly, her vision obscured by her long, dark hair. Thorton groaned and darted from behind the wall. He slipped his own arms through Vin’s. holding him back. “What do you think you’re doing?!” He growled through clenched teeth.

“Let go of me!” Vin snapped. “Qui, facce di culo!” He taunted the guards, struggling to move forward against Thorton’s restraint.

Thorton was taller than the other man, but Vin was built broader and he clenched his jaw with the effort of holding him back. “Have you lost your God-damn mind?!” Thorton scolded sharply.

“Let go!” Vin rumbled, then added in another shout, “Questa è mia sorella!”

“Speak English!” Thorton barked.

Vin jerked violently again, to no avail. Growing desperate, he cried, “That is my sister!”





Footsteps scuffed along the ground as Scarlet and Tajo hurried through the streets of Port Royal.

“Where are we going, Cap’n?” Tajo asked in a low voice. Knowing the area well, the direction they headed was mildly concerning. “Are we not looking for the key?”

“No, the rat will bring it to us,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tajo glanced sideways at her. “How do you know?”

Scarlet clenched her teeth. “Because he has the damned map.”

His eyes widened and his voice became slightly more urgent. “How do you know this?”

“I saw him with it,” she snapped. “But he didn’t see me.”

Tajo was silent, mulling it over before a thought reached him. “When did you tell Sam and your brother?”

Scarlet stopped in her tracks and paused, silent for a moment. She then waved her hand dismissively and continued forward. “They’ll figure it out.”

“So where are we going?” Tajo repeated once more.

“I think you know,” Scarlet said casually, making a turn as a smirk reached her red lips.





“A countess?!” Sam exclaimed.

Warren wore a sneer of pride and crossed his arms as the two walked side by side. “Indeed.”

Sam eyed him cautiously. He wasn’t sure if he should respect this man or feel threatened by him.

“So are we looking for the key?” Warren asked.

Sam laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, his guard dropping. The new addition obviously still had much to learn. “Of course not!”

Warren shot him a puzzled glance. “There’s a tavern just down the way,” he said, gesturing lazily. “Always plenty of women. Let’s find out if ye have as much skill as ye claim.”

Warren’s face fell and he offered a nervous laugh as he was dragged down the streets of Port Royal.





Taken by surprise at Vin’s words, Thorton reeled back and released his grip. Vin barreled forward towards the guards and after a moment of hesitation and a groan, Thorton followed.

“Release her!” Vin demanded, his hands balled into tight fists.

“We will release her only to Commander Hasset,” one of the guards retorted, a snide edge to his tone.

Thorton ran up behind him and eyed the expression on the man’s face. He had never seen Vin look so… Dangerous. It made him uneasy. He then turned to the guards and cleared his throat. “I’d do as he says,” he warned them.

The guards scoffed and exchanged a glance. “Or what?” The other chided. As if on a silent que, both Thorton and Vin drew their swords. The guards were obviously surprised and infuriated at the gesture. “You dare threaten the royal guard?” One boomed.

Vin spun his sword in his hand and raised an eyebrow, as if confirming their suspicions. One of the guards yanked the girl away from the other and tossed her behind them. She landed on the dusty cobblestones too weak to cry out, but propped herself on an arm and coughed.

Vin watched her hit the ground and his fury only heightened. He looked at the guards and howled in anger, charging at them just as they drew their own swords.

With Thorton close behind him, Vin’s sword clashed against the one belonging to the guard in front of him, immediately shoving his shoulder into the man.

Meanwhile, Thorton has crossed swords with the second, their faces close with nothing but blades and tension between them.

Suddenly, the guard’s face faltered and he narrowed his eyes. “Commodore?” He breathed in disbelief.

Thorton felt the man’s grip go slightly slack and took advantage of the mistake, forcing the sword from his grip and bringing the fist of his free hand into the face of the man, knocking him unconscious and to the ground.

Thorton watched him hit the cobblestones with a cloud of dust from the impact. Breathing heavily, he glanced over at Vin, forcing the other guard to stumble backwards.

Thorton approached with long, brisk steps and stuck his foot out behind the man, effectively tripping him.

Vin stumbled forward then glanced at Thorton and gave him and quick nod of thanks.

Their attention was taken back when the sounds of the guard dragging his sword back up from the cobblestones took their attention.

Vin casually knocked the blade away from him with his own and both he and Thorton pointed their swords at him threateningly.

“Get out of here,” Thorton snarled cooly, flicking his sword.

Wide-eyed, the man hesitantly scrambled to his feet before he turned tail and fled.

Thorton looked down to sheathe his sword and drew a breath to speak, but stopped short when he looked up and found his comrade no longer beside him.



Vin dropped his sword, clattering to the ground, and ran to the girl. His breaths came heavy and his heart pounded in dread as he kneeled onto the ground and delicately lifted her upper body. “Fia?” He whispered.

She squinted her eyes in an attempt to focus. Her eyes widened as she realized they were not playing a trick on her. “Vinnie,” she cried weakly, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on with more strength than he thought she had left.

He wrapped his arms around her in return, glad beyond measure that she was safe. She pulled away and raised an eyebrow at him. “You look terrible,” she murmured.

He let out scoff, smiling. “You do not look so great yourself,” he teased. “Can you stand?” He asked.

“Of course,” she scoffed. “I am not dead.” She attempted to stand and Vin did so quickly, watching her closely.

Slowly, she got to her feet, but swayed and staggered. Vin caught and steadied her and she leaned on him heavily.

Thorton rushed up to them and looked her over, then looked to Vin. “We still need to find the key,” he said hurriedly with a slight hint of reluctance.

Fia’s eyes widened and she took a step back from Vin, looking up at him. “What key?” She demanded.

Vin looked at her and paused, catching his breath. In the light of the street lamp, he noticed bruises on her neck and face that he hadn’t before. He slowly reached for her face, concern washing over him. “What did those guards do to you?”

She smacked his hand away and looked at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. “It was not the guards.” Before he could respond, she looked up at hi, her hardened expression returning. “What key?” She repeated in a harsher tone.

“Do you know of one?” Thorton asked quickly, taking a step forward. “It would have been hidden. Important.”

She shot Thorton a sharp expression, looking him up and down. “Yes,” she answered cautiously. “Yes, I know of that key.” Her words were loose and quiet.

“Do you know where it is?” Thorton pressed.

Fia nodded and looked between them. “It is at my husband’s house.”

Vin shifted on his feet and put his hands on his hips, letting out a breath. “Alright. Thorton, you will go-”

“”I can’t,” Thorton interrupted seriously, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “They know who I am.”

Vin gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

Thorton glanced at him then all around with a sigh, shifting his weight. His words followed a pause. “Before I was on the Obsidian I was-” He stopped as if choking on the words, though he remained collected. “I was a Commodore in the British Navy,” he admitted quickly, glancing at Vin and catching his surprise. “I was based here in Port Royal.” He added quietly. Then he looked at Vin and gestured with a hand as he spoke, leaning forward slightly. “They will recognize me, and they will find us before we ever reach El Dorado,” he said, his voice ringing with dangerous severity.

Vin searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I will go. You will take Fia back to the ship.” Thorton gave a single nod and Vin looked to his sister. “Where is the house?”

She silently debated telling him for a moment before she spoke. “Continue that way,” she said, gesturing to her right down the street. “It stands out among the others.”

He nodded and looked towards that direction before turning back. He paused and looked at her. He lowered his voice to a rumble and leaned slightly closer, gesturing to her face. “Was this done at your husband’s hand?”

Fia avoided eye contact, remaining silent. Vin straightened up, a new wave of rage coursing through his veins. He swiftly turned and strode down the street in the direction she had indicated.

“You forgot your sword!” Thorton called, noticing the blade still on the ground.

“It will not be needed,” Vin answered in a treacherous tone, continuing on without looking back.





Warren’s face could only be described as unamused as the woman sitting beside him threw her drink in his face and marched away. He watched her go and heaved a sigh, standing and making his way back towards Sam with a growing dread.

The dark-haired man was laughing loudly and slapped Warren on his back as he sat beside him. “That makes three strikes, me friend.”

Warren simply grumbled in response and used his shirt to dry off his face.

“I know a liar when I see one, mate,” Sam said with a smirk.

Warren froze and glared at him defensively. He was about to speak, but thought better of it. “How did you know?” He asked pathetically in defeat.

Sam simply looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “A countess? With you?” He let out another laugh. “Please,” he added, facing forward and taking a drink from the glass before him.

Warren leaned on the bar and pouted, folding his hands together. He sat in silence a moment before he felt the overwhelming need to change the subject. He smirked, knowing just what he wanted to talk about. “So what do you know about whatever is happening between mister fancy hair and my little sister?”

Sam choked on his drink, slamming it down and sputtering coughs between laughs. “Vin and the Captain?” He looked at Warren and his laughs became a low, amused chuckle. “What- What would inspire a question so absurd?”

Warren simply raised an eyebrow and Sam’s oblivious façade faded. “She’s gonna rip his heart out.”

“So you admit there is something?” Warren confirmed cheerily, smiling in accomplishment. “I knew it.”

Sam stopped laughing, but a wide grin remained on his face. “If he’d been anyone else, he’d be dead ten times over by now. Not that she hasn’t put him through hell and back.” He looked around cautiously then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Between you n’ me, I don’t think he minds,” Sam said with a wink. The two burst into obnoxious laughter and clinked their drinks together.

“Admittedly it couldn’t hurt to give them a gentle push in the right direction,” Warren murmured innocently into his glass.

Sam scoffed and looked at him in playful disbelief. He had suddenly grown a new respect for this man. “Ye must be mad to meddle in the Captain’s affairs.”

“Of course I am,” Warren said with an amused sneer. “I share her blood, do I not?”

Sam nodded and gestured with his finger. “I guess ye do.” He paused and cracked a smile, feeling dubiously mischievous and somewhat satisfied with himself.

“I bet she dreams about his luscious golden locks,” Warren said dreamily, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls.

“I bet he dreams about her-”

“Hey,” Warren snapped, cutting him off with a suddenly serious face. “Watch it. She’s still my sister.”

Sam playfully held his hands up in surrender and shifted in his chair back towards the bar. That was when something caught the corner of his eye. He looked over towards the door to see Scarlet and Tajo walk in.

Meanwhile, Warren continued to chuckle and murmur to himself. “I bet she-”

“Shh,” Sam snapped sharply. He blindly swung his arm back in an attempt to cover the other man’s mouth. However, he only ended up shoving his face back and Warren nearly toppled backwards with the sudden force.

Ignoring the muffled complaints behind him, Sam lowered his hand and a confused expression came over him. “What’s she doin’ ‘ere?” He grumbled to himself.

“Why does it matter?” Warren asked irritably, fixing himself into his chair again.

“Because she should know better,” he grumbled in a low voice.

As Scarlet and Tajo walked into the tavern, there were a few turning heads among the chaos that held cold stares of surprise and accusation.

“Well, well, well.” A dark-skinned man with dreadlocks that reached his mid back tied loosely behind him approached the two as they walked in. He stopped before them and crossed his arms. “I did not expect to see the two of you again,” he said in accent-laden words.

Scarlet put her hands on her hips and looked the towering man up and down. “Ye should know that I always return for what’s mine, Ferric,” she sneered casually.

The man’s bulging muscles tensed and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Yer in my port now, you will address me as Captain,” he barked. “Ya abandoned us without a word and ya still expect us to follow ya?” He hissed.

“What are ye, a batch of lost puppies?” She spat, a disgusted look on her face. “I left fer somethin’ bigger than ye cowards,” she snapped daringly. “I’m here to make up for leavin’ by offerin’ you an your crew part of the finds in exchange for yer help.”

He simply pursed his lips and shook his head, looking around as chuckles sounded from nearby tables. “You will find no help here.” He moved his head in a way that revealed a fresh scar along his cheek and neck.

“What’s this?” Scarlet said mockingly, gesturing to it. “Did you get into trouble while mummy was gone?”

The man bared his teeth and let out an enraged growling sound. “I’ll snap yer little neck, woman!”

Tajo stepped forward defensively with a daring look on his face. Ferric slowly ceased his bristling and let out a chilling laugh, cracking his knuckles. “And the gentle giant stands up to a challenge,” he mocked. “Whose first? Goliath or Jezebel?” He snarled.

“Oh, look!” Sam shouted from the other side of the room, leaping from his chair and rushing forward with Warren following hesitantly. “The sun!” He shouted, standing in Ferric’s way. He grabbed Scarlet and Tajo by the arms and kicked the door open behind him. “We have a deadline to make so we better get goin’. It was a lovely visit,” he said hastily, yanking them both out the door. Warren slipped outside just as it slammed shut. “Have ye lost yer damn mind?!” Sam shouted in a scolding tone at Scarlet, gesturing wildly with his arms.

Scarlet was about to make a retort when a banging sound from the other side of the wooden door made all four of their heads shoot up attentively.

“We have to get out of here,” Sam murmured. He looked around when no one moved. “Now!” He demanded, shooing them away violently, following quickly after.

The four of them rushed down the dawnlit washed streets with their feet and hearts pounding in sync.

That damn woman’s tongue will get us killed faster than her bullets! Sam thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as he bore towards the Obsidian.





Fia was right when she had said her husband’s house could not be missed. It was nothing grand, but it was certainly larger than the rest of the houses and two stories high. Vin marched down the center of the street the street and straight up to the front door, hardly caring if he was seen. In fact, that was his plan entirely. He thumped on the door repeatedly then stood and waited, anger in every sense of the word making his blood boil.

A very irritated looking and vaguely familiar man with light brown hair and a freckled face swung the door open. “I hope after this we won’t have a problem with-” He paused when he saw Vin standing there, looking him up and down. “You aren’t my wife,” he grumbled, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the unkempt man before him.

Vin looked over his shoulder and breathed a humorless laugh before looking back at John Hasset and struck the man square in the face with his fist. He watched his opponent sprawl to the floor unconscious. He then proceeded to stride in and kick the door shut behind him. He stood over Commander Hasset and looked him over, spotting red welts on his neck clearly from a scratch during a struggle. This only fueled his fire further. “I would not be expecting her back anytime soon,” he spat viciously.

He then looked up and around the dwelling he had entered. He could see just about the entire first floor from where he stood with a staircase to his left. It felt cold and empty though the few decorations that riddled it were elegant and obviously expensive. He rushed over to a small bureaux, the only place there where a key could possibly be hidden. Though after digging through the drawers, all he found were stacks of paper that were useless to him.

Vin grunted in frustration and slammed the drawer shut. He then turned and made his way swiftly up the stairs. The halls on the second floor were dark and narrow. The first door was on his left and his pushed it open. Empty. The lack of furniture made him somewhat uneasy. Though he assumed it was only because Hasset was probably new to the island or even to the house, it added a eeriness to the silence.

The next door coming up was on his right. He quickly pushed the door open and walked inside. There was only a modest bed with a candle still flickering on the nightstand and a wardrobe on another wall.

He walked over and opened the drawer of the nightstand. More papers. He lifted the mattress of the bed. Nothing. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. He noticed it was mostly full of men’s clothes and uniforms, with just a few dresses off to the side. Even such a small thing slightly heightened his anger. He quickly shook it off and rummaged through the clothes. He patted them down and checked pockets as quickly as he could, but still found nothing.

With growing frustration and impatience, he barged out of the room and towards the last door. It was slightly cracked and a yellow glow leaked through. He shoved it open with his elbow and found it to be a study. To his left was a burning fireplace with a large chair before it and a tattered rug beneath it on the wooden floor. Above the fireplace swords with military tassels were being displayed, crossed over one another. On the far wall was a window and to the right was a large bookshelf and an intricate desk with a lit candle on it.

It did not take him long to figure out where to start. He rushed over to the bookshelf and began to pull out the books, shaking them out before snapping them shut and tossing them onto the floor in messy stacks. It took him only a couple of minutes to clear the shelves before he sighed heavily and clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to shatter the window with one of the larger volumes.

Vin took a step back in an attempt to make his way towards the desk only to catch his foot on one of his messy book stacks on the floor. Eyes widening in surprise, he toppled to the floor and landed on his back with a thud.

He shut his eyes tight and groaned in pain, only to open them and notice something out of place and strangely uplifting.

From where he lay, he spotted a small crack underneath the desk. There was a small, silver hook holding the tiny trap door closed and he grinned in accomplishment. He pushed himself back a bit farther then reached above his head and undid the latch.

The little door swung open and Vin flinched as a small object fell from it and struck his face. He quickly grabbed it and held it before him, smiling at the sight of a key in his hand.

He quickly shuffled his way out from under the desk and leapt to his feet, shoving the key in his coat pocket.

Vin nearly jumped out of his skin, startled, when the loud bang of a pistol sounded and wood on the bookshelf splintered.

Heart suddenly pounding in his throat, he looked over to see Hasset aiming a pistol at his head and quickly approaching. “You dare invade the home of a Commander and rummage through his property?!” He shouted in furious disbelief.

Vin forced a mocking smirk. “I plan to do more than rummage through it,” he said in hopes of provoking the man, therefore increasing the ability for him to anticipate the next gun shot. After a few second, Vin ducked and Hasset fired again, hitting the bookshelf a second time.

Grumbling in frustration, Hasses struggled to grasp the pouch of bullets tied around his belt in an effort to reload.

To Vin, this was an indication that he had no other weapon. Therefore, he compulsively ran forward and did the first thing that came to mind: he smacked the pouch out of Hasset’s hand and into the fireplace, promptly shielding his face with his arm thereafter.

Just as he anticipated, there was the almost immediate sound of loud cracks as the gunpowder in the bullets went off. The shells flew from the flames and a cry of pain quickly escaped Hasset.

It did not take long for the effect to cease and Vin lowered his arm to find Hasset doubled over and covering his eye with his free hand.

Taking advantage of his disadvantage, Vin sprung forward and gripped the handles of the two blades above the mantle. However, in an attempt to pull them out the entire mount ended up coming off and pulling him to the floor.

Still gripping the swords, Vin looked up to see Hasset glaring at him with a single watering eye, preparing to blindly charge. As he did so, Vin hefted the entire display into the air and swung it at Hasset, hitting the man in the chest forcefully with the gained momentum Vin could manage.

Hasset stumbled backwards towards the window, the breath effectively knocked out of the man and his pistol clattering to the ground. Both eyes were wide and one was severely reddened. He was stopped with a jolt as his back pressed against the glass.

As the mount hit the floor, Vin found that the swords slid easily out and he hefted a sigh and pulled the two of them free.

Vin then whipped around to face Hasset and hastily approached the man, tightly gripping a sword in each hand. His wide-eyed opponent held up his hands in surrender. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Vin stopped and scoffed. “I am not going to kill you, vigliacco,” he sneered, lowering the swords slightly. “I have what I came for. If you will allow it, I shall be on my way with all haste.”

Hasset nodded and gestured to the door. “By all means.” Vin gave him a wary nod and lowered his sword, turning to head out the door.

As soon as Vin had his back turned, Hasset narrowed his eyes and reached down, slowly retrieving a dagger from his boot. He swiftly rushed up behind the man, but Vin was not as dull as to to let his guard down so easily. The moment he heard footsteps behind him, he instinctively dropped one of the swords and whipped around to catch Hasset’s wrist and shove him back. However, this was not accomplished without the searing pain of a blade cutting through his sleeves and scoring his forearm.

Ignoring his fresh wound, Vin twisted the dagger out of Hasset’s hand and dug his shoulder into the man’s chest, driving him into the window. He jumped back at the sound of a deafening shatter in time to watch Hasset stagger and topple over the edge with a cry of fear.

Vin stood where he was for a moment, breathing heavily. He then leaned over and picked up the second sword so he held both in one hand, tucking one of them carefully into his belt. He also scooped up the dagger and casually wiped his own blood from it onto his pants, allowing his belt to claim the smaller weapon as well. Lastly, he reached for the pistol and examined it. A double barrel with intricate engravings made of dark wood and mother of pearl accents. He made a face of approval and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

He then continued to lean over the edge to see Hasset lying on the ground. He waited for a few moments until he saw the Commander’s body stir and smirked in accomplishment. He examined the shards of glass around the edges of the window frame and nodded to himself. He had grown a liking to windows over the past few weeks. Looking out it now he realized the sun had begun to emerge from the horizon.

He perked up suddenly at the sound of shouting voices. Distant as they may have been, he knew better than to stick around.

Sword in hand, he rushed through the narrow hallway and down the stairs. He slipped out the door. The gray light of dawn made his surroundings look much different than they did surrounded in night, though it did not take him long to spot the ruby colored sails of his target, dramatically illuminated by the sunlight.

Though his heart thudded in his throat and his lungs burned, he pushed on. He ran through alleyways like a maze as not to be spotted, which made his journey slightly longer but with little risk.

Once he reached the docks, he noticed members of the crew beginning to stir. He immediately noticed Scarlet at the helm, as her hair seemed aflame with the rays of light behind her. He figured it was safe to assume the others had made it back as well and were only waiting on him.

As soon as Scarlet noticed him making his way down the dock, she abandoned the helm and hastily strode from the deck to meet him.

Vin smiled in a satisfactory manner as he saw her approaching and held up the key. “I got it!” He announced, relief in his voice.

Without slowing, she slid the barrel of her own gun into her hand and swiftly struck his sword-wielding hand with it with a blunt force enough to cause him to drop the weapon, snatching the key from his other hand while he was still unaware of what was going on.

Confused, Vin took a step back, suddenly finding himself empty handed. “What are you doing?” He demanded.

Without answering, Scarlet shoved the key into her own pocket and forcefully grabbed his jacket, pulling it towards her so she could dig her hand in the pocket and pull out the map. She spun her gun in her hand and quickly backed away, aiming her weapon directly at him. “If ye so much as take one meager step towards me ship, I’ll put a bullet through yer lyin’ head!” She snarled.

Vin’s hands were instinctively raised in submission and once he saw her back away with the map in her hand, a garrote of dread clutched at his chest. He felt the blood drain from his face and he did not doubt in that moment that she meant what she said.

He stood there silently dumbfounded; though he searched desperately for words, they refused to be found. Scarlet simply gave him a disgusted look and boarded the ship with haste, shouting commands to sail off immediately.

His demeanor slowly fell as he watched the Obsidian sail away from the port, feeling utterly lost and helpless, and the slightest bit disappointed in himself.

Suddenly, a figure on the deck caught his eye and he heard a faint call through the thick air.

“Vinnie!”

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he rushed to the end of the dock to see his sister leaning over the rail. “Fia!” He called out as if it would have done any good. How could he have forgotten that she was aboard? He groaned in frustration and guilt, cursing himself for becoming overwhelmed.

Another figure appeared beside her and though the features were a dark silhouette at the increasing distance, Vin recognized the tall, slender figure of Thorton. The first mate had put a gentle hand on Fia’s shoulder and gestured below deck, leading her there.

Though he trusted those he knew to care for her, it was hardly consolation, for the trouble on his mind only grew as the sight of the Obsidian became increasingly smaller.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

_________________________________________________________________

Sam watched Scarlet stomp back onto the ship and begin to shout orders to leave. In confusion, he looked back to the dock at Vin standing there helplessly. He turned back to Scarlet a second time with a troubled expression as she made her way towards the helm once more. “Hey!” He said, taking a few steps towards her. “What was that all about?” She ignored him and he sighed heavily, walking back over to the rail as they began to sail away.

He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. Sam admitted to himself that he had grown to enjoy Vin’s company. Now that he was no longer aboard, all he had left was-

“Well, that was short lived,” Warren said flatly, leaning on the rail beside Sam.

Before Sam could reply, an outcry caught the attention of them both.

“Vinnie!”

The heads of the two men immediately shot to their left only to find that the voice belonged to that of an unfamiliar woman. Though she looked to have had a rough day, her slender figure and features were no doubt beautiful. Her dark hair fell straight to the middle of her back and she wore a simple dress of a lavender color. She was very nearly as tall as Warren himself and her dark eyes brimmed with tears and fear.

Thorton took a mere few steps to approach her and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked up at him, but he only gestured towards Finnegan, who he had been speaking with previously. “Finnegan will help you get settled in,” he said. He knew it would not help, but what was he supposed to say? That Vin would find his way back? That they would return for him? That he could ensure her return home? Every consolation seemed farther fetched than the last.

Fia nodded and hesitantly made her way towards the older man. “Come along, deary,” Finnegan said in a comforting tone as he lead her down the stairs. “We’ll get you fixed up.”

Sam and Warren watched as she disappeared below deck and exchanged glances. Warren offered a grin and Sam rolled his eyes and shoved the smaller man behind him as he strode in Thorton’s direction. However, he quickly heard the shuffle of boots scrambling to follow him.

“What’s that about, mate?” Sam said, causing Thorton to turn and face him, folding his hands behind his back. “Don’t ye know by now that it be bad luck to have a woman on board?” He cackled to himself and heard Warren burst into giggles behind him.

Thoroughly unamused, Thorton simply looked at Sam with narrowed eyes. “Yes, well, she happens to be Vin’s younger sister,” he stated. He then reached up with one hand, his accusing point alternating between the two of their smirking faces. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Sam scoffed. “I couldn't begin to imagine what ideas ye would be referring to,” he said, nudging Warren’s arm.

“Pfft I never even have ideas,” Warren added, elbowing Sam back slightly harder.

Sam’s smile fell and he effortlessly shoved Warren with one hand, causing him to stumble to the side.

Thorton sighed to himself and glared at the two. “Get to work,” he grumbled futilely, stepping around them to make his way back to the helm.

Meanwhile, Edwin stepped aside as Scarlet stalked back up the stairs to claim the wheel.

She gripped it until her knuckles turned white, staring straight ahead. There was a long period of silence until Scarlet snapped under Edwin’s continuous gaze. “What?!” She shouted, looking sideways at him.

His expression was gentle and remained calm though she clearly was not. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to go back for him,” he suggested.

“Oh, what do you know?” She barked, facing forward again, her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched.

“He hardly even knows where he is,” Edwin pressed.

Scarlet tensed her shoulders and continued to stare ahead. “Well then how would ye like it if I threw yer compassionate arse into a rowboat and ye can paddle back to Port Royal and live out yer miserable lives together?!” She raged.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” he commented sincerely, a small and slightly amused smile reaching his lips. “Doesn’t stranding him in Port Royal seem a bit… Harsh?”

“He deserves every bit of it,” she snarled.

This time, Edwin let out a small laugh and took his eyes off her to watch the water go by. “All these years and you’ve hardly changed a bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked in a low, distant voice.

He only continued to grin. “You still tap your fingers when you’re lying.”

She froze, coming to the realization that she had indeed been drumming the fingertips on her right hand against the wheel forcefully.

Before she had a chance to reply, she caught sight of the other woman on the ship and Thorton sending her below deck with Finnegan. Her first mate then proceeded to climb the steps of the helm, approaching her. She looked at him sternly, jerking her head to the trap door. “Who was that?” She demanded.

“Vin’s younger sister, Captain,” Thorton answered obediently, standing on the opposite side of her than Edwin. She began to step away and Thorton caught her by the arm. “Please go easy on her,” he added in a low, serious voice. “She’s been through a lot. And you did just leave her brother behind in Port Royal,” he added cautiously.

“I’m aware of what I’ve done,” Scarlet retorted snidely and Thorton let go of her arm, lazily taking the wheel and keeping his eyes on her as she traced the path Fia and Finnegan had taken moments before.

When Scarlet descended the stairs, she emerged into the side room Finnegan usually worked in, figuring that’s where she would find the two of them. Once she made it to the doorway, she was greeted by the sight of Fia tippy-toeing so that her head was entirely through the port hole window, more than likely vomiting.

Finnegan was busy rushing back and forth, but stopped his busywork when he spotted Scarlet. He quickly approached her and the two stood under the doorway, Fia being preoccupied and oblivious to the newcomer.

“So what’s her story?” Scarlet muttered, hands on her hips.

“She hasn’t gotten around to telling me all of it, but-” He looked behind his shoulder, concern in his eyes for the young girl. He then turned back to Scarlet and murmured what he knew to her in a low voice.

As he spoke, the rage quickly drained from her face, replaced by an awkward mixture of pity and confliction.

When Fia was sure she would not be feeling sick again, she turned placid-faced to see Scarlet standing with Finnegan. “Oh, hello,” she said weakly. The two looked at her and she wandered over slowly. “I have not sailed before,” she explained. “I must be sick from the sea.” Her words were followed by light, nervous laughter. Her accent was thicker and far less refined than her elder brother’s. “My name is Fiorenza Ysabel Constansie Julietta Caprice Nico- Er, I mean Hasset.” She introduced herself with a slight bow of her head. “Fia for short.”

Finnegan cracked a smile at Fia’s introduction, but Scarlet hardly took notice. Seasick? They’d hardly left port. Scarlet hated to imagine Fia’s state in the open ocean. She assumed her sickness could also be caused by a degree of fear. Now that she was closer, Scarlet could also see bruises on her skin. She felt a sudden wave of guilt that she did not fully understand. She then did all she could think to do and introduced herself in return. “Captain-” She paused to clear her throat. “Captain Waters.”

As Fia shook Scarlet’s hand, her eyes widened. However, they did not hold the emotion Scarlet expected. Rather than the initial crippling fear she had grown used to, the girl’s brown eyes simply held wonder and disbelief. “Scarlet Waters?” She breathed. “I have heard stories.” After a moment, she pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

Scarlet furrowed her brow and looked down at herself then back up at Fia. “What are you looking at?” She asked cautiously.

Fia simply shrugged and her arm dropped back to her side. “You are not tall or ugly as I imagine,” she stated.

Scarlet looked slightly taken aback, but was unsure as to how she would respond to such a comment. She looked over to Finnegan as an amused, gruff laugh escaped him.

Rather than feeling anger at Fia’s potentially offending comment, she felt uncomfortable at the lack of it. Though this girl was indeed taller than Scarlet, it was easy to see that she still held the eyes and heart of a curious child. The state she was in only made the situation even more unsettling.

After an extended silence, Scarlet cleared her throat a second time. “Well, I should be getting back to the helm,” she declared, feeling the overwhelming need to be anywhere but there.

As Scarlet left, Fia turned and sat heavily in the nearest chair with a sigh, a shadow of a smile remaining on her face.

Finnegan wandered over and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. “You seem to be handling this well, lassie,” he commented.

“I am not worried,” she said, turning to him. Her smile widened, but her eyes were tired. “If Vinnie survived her, he can survive there.”

Finnegan raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” He asked curiously. He then gestured to the doorway. “You just saw that she is not always as scary as the stories say.”

Fia let out a small laugh. “Because I know my brother, signor,” she stated, “and I can tell she would not have been so easy on him.” She then paused and her smile faded slightly. “And I know he must have reason, but I still struggle to understand what he was doing here,” she murmured.

Finnegan uttered a small laugh and looked down at the floor. “I thought he must’ve been mad, at first,” he admitted. “But we had many o’ conversation under the point o’ me needle,” he laughed.

Fia looked at him with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“Well I’m sure you know better than the rest o’ us that he has a knack for trouble?” Fia laughed a little and nodded. “I’ve had to sew the lad up more n’ once,” he said with a nod.

Fia pursed her lips in confusion once more. “You mean he was hurt?” She asked worriedly.

Finnegan glanced at her, and noticing her concern, adjusted his tone accordingly. “Don’t worry, lass, never anythin’ I couldn’t fix. Just got in a few fights is all.”

Fia only grew more uneasy. “Fights? He would not hurt a fly.”

“Hazard of bein’ on a pirate ship, lass,” he pointed out.

There was only silence between them for a long moment. “Do you think I will see him again?” Fia asked suddenly, staring at the folded hands she held in her lap.

“Of course,” Finnegan answered immediately. “His stubbornness rivals only Scarlet’s. I don’t think anythin’ could keep him far for long.”

Fia nodded, but hardly seemed reassured. Finnegan searched for something else potentially comforting. “Why don’t I tell you what he’s been up to since he arrived?” He offered.

Fia loked up at him and smiled with a nod. “That would be good,” she agreed.

He smiled and shifted in his chair to face her slightly. “Well, it all started when the mad fool thought it would be a good idea to sneak onto the Obsidian.”