Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: The Pillage

Songs: notre dame by paris paloma

“Ready the cannons ye dogs!”

The old boat lurches to the side as the sound of a massive iron ball pummeling into the hull sends Saoirse’s body forward against the confines of her cell. She smacks her face against the rusted bars, snapping her body awake. The sounds of boots against old lumber could be heard above her on deck, as well as shouts of frustration and anger. Saoirse quickly understood what was happening when another cannonball rocketed through the side of the ship, sending the boat back once again. This crew was under attack. And she couldn’t care less.

Her time on this ship was spent in agony, as she was not a part of this crew, rather she was a prisoner, as evidenced by the mere dog crate they threw her lifeless body into before setting sail again. Saoirse O’Connor was the daughter of a sickly Irish merchant, who needed to be cared for while he was on his journey to export the little wool their flock of sheep could produce that spring. On their way to the Spanish coast, their boat was attacked, and her father was immediately murdered in retaliation for not having quite a bounty the pirates had hoped for. They also took her captive after brutally breaking her legs, as finding young and attractive women on the open sea was one in a million. These men were not kind to her, using her for their disgusting desires, leaving her only one small rag to cover her body after they stripped her nude. With no mobility in her legs, she was to rot and die in this cell. Her womanhood was long gone, her pride was nonexistent, and her will to live was nowhere to be seen.

A thundering sound overtook the cluster of noise on deck; the sound of the invading pirates jumping onto this ship’s deck. Saoirse could almost smell the blood in the air within the next ten seconds it took for different faces to storm the ship.

“…quite a worthless vessel…”

“Nothing of real value…”

A few men stormed down to the lowest half of the boat, took one look around, and immediately spotted the young woman locked in her cell. They didn’t say anything at first, before one of them laughed and hollered.

“Cap’n’s gonna like this one!”

There was no telling how Saoirse would die; all she knew was that it would come quick, with whatever these filthy pirates would do next. Her body was beyond pain at this point; she would fully accept death as a sign of mercy.

The other pirate approached the girl with a big toothless grin, before reaching inside of her cage and grabbing her arm. He pulled her against the rusty bars, taking in her body.

“What’s a little poppet like you doin’ out in these dangerous waters, mm?”

She didn’t respond.

“Come on, love, talk to this ole man… I haven’t pillowed a lass in ages…”

Saoirse’s eyes had been squeezed shut for the past thirty seconds that this man had been stroking her arm, only opening them when she felt her hand on a soft, fleshy mound. Her heart stopped when she realized he was making her stroke his flaccid manhood. Finding herself again, Saoirse ripped her hand away, slapping the man in response.

“Get away from me!”

The pirate’s eyes grew wide as he realized what you had done, immediately brandishing a knife.

“You dirty little bog-trotter-“

“…Can’t believe what you’re telling me! Of all of my years on these wretched waters, and I find myself with-“

Two loud boots stopped on the bottom steps of the stairs leading to the ship’s undercarriage. She couldn’t make out the man that stood before her, but compared to the others that followed suit, she could tell he was tall. This was their captain.

“Cap’n, this one isn’t worth the trouble, she wouldn’t even try to please me.”

The pirate looked back at her, snorted, then spat on her face. That made her gasp.

“How DARE YOU!”

The pirates laughed, all except their captain, who simply walked forward, his features still hidden from Saoirse’s vision. He stood behind the crouched pirate as he pulled his pants back up. The captain put his hand on the pirate’s shoulder.

“Seamus, oh Seamus… I believe we talked about this.”

“About what?”

The pirate crouched before Saoirse, his face now fully illuminated in the small light from her cell wall. He stared directly into her eyes as he spoke to the older pirate.

“A fair lady, such as this, should be treated with dignity.”

Saoirse blinked, her eyes welling up with large tears. The captain’s kind words were quickly overlapped with a loud, drunken laugh, as he stood up, holding the other pirate by the collar.

“And that ALL treasure found on my men’s behalf will be given to me!”

The other pirates laughed nervously, watching how the tall captain’s strong grip on the older man’s collar seemed to almost choke him. The bottom half of his face was illuminated, displaying a large smile.

“We’ll have a talk later today about this. For now,”

He turned to the rest of his men.

“Collect my bounty.”

The captain shoved the older pirate into the group, who quickly stumbled away, mumbling some unknown prayer. The pirates dispersed, a few staying behind, eyeballing Saoirse in her cell.

“Ah, leave this one with me, men.”

The rest of the men left, the boat now mostly silent. The captain turned back to Saoirse, then crouched again, staring at her eyes His face told her he was young, possibly in his mid twenties. He had a strong, expressive brow line, an angular nose, and a thick mustache that hid his top lip. His sideburns were unkempt, as was the rest of his hair, which was held in a bandana on top of his head, under a dark leather pirate’s hat. A few curly strands stuck out on his forehead. He had long black eyelashes paired with chocolate brown eyes, looking almost kind and gentle. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, seemingly taking her in. He then smiled.

“How does a dame like you end up in a situation like this, eh?”

Saoirse pushed herself against the opposite wall as best as she could with her useless legs, blood ringing in her ears.

“…Do not touch me.”

The captain grinned wider, before standing up and stretching out.

“I’m afraid you have no choice, lass. You’ll die if you stay in there. Your captors are swimming in the drink.”

The captain removed his thick coat, revealing a stained white runic underneath. He rolled up his sleeves while he retrieved a large axe from the corner.

“I want death.”

He ignored her, studying the axe, before walking back over, his hoots heavy against the wood. Saoirse snarled.

“Kill me, you coward.”

That caught his attention. He met her eyes again, before smiling and crouching again.

“Ah, now I can’t do that. It would be against my moral compass.”

“Right, a pirate’s righteous moral compass!”

Saoirse snapped at him through her thick Irish dialect, the tears flooding down her face. Her anger was returning to her. Her urge to strangle any man in her sight surged through her body. The captain smiled before standing again, whistling a shanty to himself.

“Are you too scared, captain? Too scared to slay a woman? Does my presence frighten you-“

CLANG!

Saoirse screamed as the captain raised his arms, bringing the axe down swiftly upon the metal bars, bending them, leaving an indent in the rusted metal. Saoirse covered her mouth as the captain wordlessly raised his arms again, striking the cage a second time, this time splitting the roof of her cell in two. She watched as he let out a husky sigh, before tossing the axe aside. He put one hand on one side of the cage, lifted his foot, and pushed it on the other. Saoirse watched him slowly pull the roof of the cage apart, watching his forearm muscles strain, his face scowl in concentration. These bars were thick… he must have been strong. When he was done, he set his foot down, then immediately reached inside, going for her arm. Saoirse smacked his hand away, which made him falter.

“Stay away you filthy pirate!”

The captain stared at her, before quickly grabbing her wrist again, pulling her out of the cage, holding her nude body in his arms.

“You’re lucky I’m such a patient man. Now I would stop talking if I were you.”

Saoirse had nothing to say in response, as she was in shock by the way the man held her. His hands against her back, keeping her stabilized. He began to let go of her slightly, before realizing her legs were brutally injured by the way she yelped in pain. Wordlessly, he hoisted his bounty over his shoulder, making her yelp again. She stared at the ground behind him as he retrieved his coat again, using it to cover her nude body.

“My men are a tad more pleasant than the creatures that kept you here for god knows how long. I don’t know if I could say the same for myself.”

He chortled to himself as he ascended the stairs of the ship, bringing the both of them onto the deck. It was then that she was able to see the absolute wreckage of this boat. Once so powerful against her late father’s modest raft, now completely destroyed and left to rot. This was the life of a pirate, it would seem. The captain joined in on singing a sea shanty with his men as they pillaged, laughing, sharing a large bottle of unknown alcoholic beverage, all while she remained flung over his broad shoulder. Eventually they began returning to their ship, which Saoirse took note of how large it was compared to this one. These were pirates, tried and true, and Saoirse was at the mercy of their captain, who for some reason, did not want to kill her.

“Alright, Red,”

The captain walked towards the edge of the boat, which now began to sink. He held out his arm, shouting at one of his men to swing a rope over. Saoirse looked up from her daze to see him wrapping his wrist around a thick brown rope.

“Hang on tight.”

Before she could process what he was saying, he jumped, holding onto the rope with one arm , his feet wrapped around the end to keep him upright. Saoirse dug her nails into his back and arms, screaming, until they arrived on the other side. The captain winced slightly.

“Darling, wait until we’re in bed together for the nails.”

He and a few of his men laughed. He instantly ducked down into the inside of the ship, towards a closed off room. He had to crouch while he entered, before tossing her body onto a hammock. She laid before him, nude, eyes red and stinging from the salty air. She watched his face relax and his eyes widen as he truly took in the woman he had just kidnapped from her own kidnappers. She watched his adam’s apple bob, swallowing the dryness in his throat. Saoirse watched him as he tossed his thick leather coat over her body. He straightened out the best he could.

“Welcome to the Crimson Tide, Red. I’ll be your gracious captain, you can call me Captain Schlatt.”

He smirked.

“Keep that coat on you if you want that frostbite to subside. And… if you want to keep your dignity.”

Captain Schlatt poked his head out of the small room.

“Oi! Montoya! You are needed in the infirmary.”

Captain Schlatt looked back on Soairse one more time, before turning away again.

“Grab a gown from the stash.”

The man thundered away. Soairse tried her best to stay awake and conscious, afraid of what might happen to her if she slipped away for a moment. However, as her eyes began to close, her body unable to fight the exhaustion, she watched as a figure poked their head in, carrying various items in their arms. The last thing she could remember before dozing off was two gentle hands touching her ankle, murmuring something in sorrow. She hoped her new home would be much more caring. She didn’t know how much longer she could live if that wasn’t the case.

Chapter Text

Songs: July by Noah Cyrus

Saoirse’s eyes fluttered open.

The room was quiet, with the setting sun in the distance beyond the small foggy window next to her head. She was alone, for once, and she felt…oddly comfortable. Saoirse sat up as best as she could in her hammock, taking in the scene before her. She sat in what seemed to be a tiny closet of a room, with a bench at her feet, cabinets against her head. An unoccupied chair sat by her feet as well, with a dark brown cloth placed over the back of the chair. Her body was covered in two blankets, keeping her warm. The one thing she could remember from the last time she was awake was that thick red coat, which she saw was neatly hanging against the back of the closed door. A single candle provided her with more light, next to her head. Wherever she was, she was clearly being cared for, at least a little bit. The time she had spent out at sea had only been stressful, she was hoping things would become better from here on. Despite the immense comfort this burlap hammock gave her, she had to be on her guard. She couldn’t trust any of the pirates aboard this vessel. Saoirse blinked, then pulled her arms from under the blanket, realizing she was still nude. Before she could do anything, the door opened, an older man stepping inside with a large bowl. He noticed her gaze, then softly gasped to himself.

“Oh, goodness, yer finally awake… been out fer a whole day.”

The man set the bowl down on the bench before her, then knelt by her body.

“Ah… good evening lass.”

He looked almost shocked, like he wasn’t expecting her to be awake this soon. Saoirse stared at him with wide eyes, hesitant to speak to the pirate before her. This man had dirty blonde-almost-grey hair down to his shoulders, with a fitting scraggly beard to boot. His face was dirty and tanned after seeing so many hours out on the deck. He had light hazel eyes, his brow line hanging low due to old age. As much as Saoirse despised these pirates, this one had a softness about his rough and grimy exterior that told her she could trust him. The pirate took note of her wariness, sitting back in the chair next to her feet.

“Aye, I’m sure you’re mighty confused… I must tell you that you are safe among this vessel.”

The man reached for the bowl behind him, then spooned out a portion of steaming soup.

“Please, drink.”

The smell overtook her body, and she then realized how hungry she was. She immediately accepted the meal, before reaching for the bowl, drinking it down quickly. She savored the chunks of vegetable and meat. The old man sat back and smiled warmly.

“No doubt you’re starved, poor girl.”

Saoirse wiped her mouth on her arm, then looked up at the man, slowly reaching to give him the bowl.

“…Thank you.”

“Ah, don’t thank me, lass. ‘Tis my job.”

Saoirse watched him set the bowl on the desk, then reached for her blanket, pulling it up slightly. He let out a soft ‘tsk’ noise with his teeth.

“Those men did a number on you, hm. You’ll be healing up soon enough. It will be slow.”

He looked up at her, then pulled the blanket off so she could see. Her legs were strapped to two wooden boards, tied almost masterfully. Her body was bruised, cut up, bitten, burned. Saoirse nervously watched the man, paying attention to the way he studied her nude body, only to find that he was turned away, disinterested in her nudity. He turned back with a jar of lotion, spread some onto his fingers, then began to run the lotion into her cuts. She hissed at the sudden sting.

“Aye, this lotion is quite strong,”

He chuckled, before smiling weakly at her.

“I know it hurts some. This’ll help, trust me.”

He continued his job, working quietly, humming to himself. Saoirse licked her lips.

“…Who are you?”

“Mm? Oh! Pardon me, My name is William Montoya, but you can just call me Willy. I’m one of the many filthy pirates aboard the Crimson Tide, one of the only ones with an education.”

He snickered, spreading the medicine onto her thigh. The burn didn’t bother her much anymore. He looked up at her.

“I used to be a cleric in Cambridge before I realized I didn’t like being a dog to his majesty. Heheh.”

Willy gave her the jar.

“Apply that onto yer sensitive areas, I, uh… I don’t think you would like if I did.”

She thanked him in her mind for the gratitude, spreading the lotion onto her chest.

“…Saoirse. Saoirse O’Connor. I’m from Belfast.”

“Ahh, Irish, I knew I could hear that accent... I’ve been a few times here and there. How did you end up here?”

“Well…”

She paused, screwing the cap onto the jar, passing it back to him.

“My father was transporting goods from our farm, some wool. He was sick and old, and I’m his only living child. I wanted to help him on his journey to Spain, but… we were attacked. I was taken…”

She paused, her lip quivering.

“Alright, I see. No need to fill in the rest, I get the gist of it all.”

Willy stood, then pulled the brown fabric from the chair. He held out a dress.

“This is, uh… I hope it will fit.”

Saoirse watched him move towards her, pulling the gown over her head. He helped her pull her hands through the sleeves, then wrestled it down her legs. He sat back with a grunt.

“I hope that feels better.”

Saoirse was quiet, before she whispered.

“…Why are you being so kind to me?”

Willy, who was taking a swig from his flask, quickly swallowed.

“My dear, I be a pirate. We pirates be fierce and rough, but I also be a man. A father.”

He paused, almost upset.

“I had a girl like you once, she had freckles like you… she passed a dew years ago. I never got to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ahhh, no need for apologies.”

There was a break in the conversation, which Willy spent shucking the blanket back over Saoirse. This room was cold, he didn’t want her getting sick.

“…The Captain’s really fond of ye, y’know. He came in twice while you were sleeping, askin’ me how bad the damage was to yer legs.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“He was angry. I could see it in those eyes. He told me ole Seamus laid his hands on ye, spat in yer eye.”

Saorise nodded, her hand going to touch the spot he spat on her involuntarily.

“Yea, well… ole Schlatt had ‘im pay fer that.”

“Pay for… that?”

“Yes. Lets just say ole Seamus is… swimming in the drink now.”

Saoirse’s eyes widened. He had him… walk the plank? She couldn’t wrap her mind around that. Why would a pirate captain exhile one of his own men for behaving the way a normal pirate would? She looked outside to possibly find the old man floating in the water, only to see a vast and empty ocean, the sun setting in the horizon. She looked back, brow furrowed.

“Why would he do that?”

“Ah, I try not to justify the boy’s reasons. He’s a bit hotheaded in nature. Cares for his own kind, ye see.”

She couldn’t believe it, but she nodded anyways. Willy sighed, then stood up.

“You’ll probably be be in this hammock for another week or so… while your poor legs heal. I’ll be right outside on the deck, just uh… knock on the wall if you need me, lass.”

He smiled, she returned the smile weakly.

“Thank you, Willy.”

“No, no. Thank you.”

The man tipped his dirty hat, then walked out, closing the door behind him. Saoirse stared at the door for a few seconds, before directing her attention towards the ocean again. What a beautiful, horrifying thing it was. There were no laws here. There was no government. She was at the mercy of Mother Earth’s own creation, her waves, her storms, her creatures that lurked in the deep. She thought about what Willy told her, about how Captain Schlatt had the man from before leave the ship. His power over these men scared her. Clearly they respected his authority, despite how much younger he was than anyone else aboard this vessel. How did he end up in the captain’s chambers being as young as he was? Was it that he came from wealth? Was he a bloodthirsty tyrant? She ran her fingers through her wavy red hair, releasing a gentle sigh, before snuggling back into her hammock, which was becoming more comfortable by the second. Saoirse didn’t want to dwell on this thought anymore, afraid of what the captain might do to her based on her previous actions towards him. He had every right to kill her in that cage, then and there, but something had stopped him. She thought back to how her words seemed to pierce his skin much deeper than she thought. As she continued to ponder, her body began to shut down for the evening. She felt sleepy again from the soup she consumed before, allowing her eyes to droop closed once again, listening to the waves crash against the hull.

“…the girl doin’ well?”

“Her spirits are up, I would say. She told me her name is, eh… Sur-shuh… Saoirse… somethin’ Irish.”

There was a low hum of acknowledgement behind her, as Saoirse slowly awoke. She kept her eyes closed, curious as to what was being said behind her.

“Poor thing’s scared to death, I can tell from the way she looked at me. I was puttin’ some medicine on her, while she was still nude, she looked like she might cry…”

“Can’t blame her…”

One of those voices was most definitely Willy’s. The other sounded like it belonged to the Captain.

“…I don’t… I can’t seem to understand how such… creatures... could do such a thing to such a young lady..."

The mysterious voice spoke low, annoyance rang throughout.

“I understand us men have our desires, but…”

There was a loud sigh of disgust. She felt something touching her leg suddenly, making her gently twitch. Willy grumbled.

“I’m glad we found ‘er when we did. No doubt she’d be a goner give or take a few days… You said the lass has some fight in her, eh?”

The hand gently grazed her calf on top of the blanket, before lifting, going to her head. She felt large fingers comb through her hair, snagging slightly.

“Careful, Johnathan, you’ll wake her…”

“The girl’s got a fire. She told me she wanted death, but I pestered her a bit, she seemed to fight back. I reckon I can get her back to her own self with more work from my end.”

There was a low chuckle.

“…Her hair is entrancing.”

“Never seen such a color, eh, Johnny?”

“Not as bright as hers.”

She felt the fingers slowly remove themselves from her hair. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“I think she’s wakin’ up. I’ll get goin’. I’ve got some more soup for her.”

“You don’t want to say hello?”

“I don’t want her to risk hurting herself tryin’ to rip my face off, Monty. The girl’s not fond of me.”

“Ah, well… get goin’ then.”

There was some shuffling, then the door closed. Saoirse waited a few seconds, then opened her eyes, stretching her arms out above her.

“Good evening, Ireland. It’s about midnight now, you were out for four hours.”

“Oh…”

Saoirse rubbed her face. Willy knelt next to her with a bowl of soup, missing a spoon.

“Drink up, lass.”

Saoirse happily accepted the bowl, this time sipping her soup at a slower pace. She noticed the flashy red leather coat was missing from the door. Captain Schlatt must have taken that with him. Saoirse looked over at Willy as he popped the cork off of a bottle of alcohol, took a big swig, then looked over at her. He held it out to her.

“Rum? It’ll ease the pain.”

Saoirse took the bottle, stared at it, then took a sip. She gave him the bottle while swallowing hard. Willy chuckled.

“Ah, so you are Irish.”

Saoirse smiled.

“What does that mean, Willy?”

“Well, this is only the strongest bottle o’ rum we have on deck, and I expected ye to react a bit differently, I guess.”

“Oh, that was supposed to be strong?” Willy laughed.

“I guess not compared to yer Irish ale.”

Saoirse smiled confidently. Willy set the bottle beside her, then looked out towards the ocean.

“We’re headed to the Caribbean.”

“The where?” Willy looked over at her. “The New World, the Caribbean. Cap’s got some business to do down there. It’ll take about two weeks worth of travel I reckon.”

Saoirse nodded. She had heard of the British, French, and Spanish control over certain territories in The New World. She hated the British about as much as the next Irishman did, but she felt completely alone here, so she wouldn’t exert her opinion out loud to a British man in front of her.

The sound of laughter came from above, making her look at the ceiling above her. She could hear someone playing a string instrument, as well as some singing. Willy stood.

“Sounds like the boys on deck are havin’ a little fun. I’d better make sure no one drinks themselves alive. Saorise…”

Willy paused with his hand on the door handle. He looked at her fondly.

“…I hate ta leave you here, girl. It’s best you don’t move much and get your rest. Use that medicine on the floor beside ya.”

“Okay. Thank you, Willy.”

“Of course, lass. You’ll be better in no time. I’m sure of it.”

Saorise smiled at Willy as he winked, and quietly left the room. She had no idea how she became so lucky as to find this crew. She felt safe here, at least under Willy’s watch. Captain Schlatt seemed like he was worried for her, too. He didn’t seem that way at first when he met her, but she didn’t want to think about that day anymore. Saoirse listened to the sea shanties above as she once again drifted off to sleep, finally catching up on the days worth of sleep she lost while being held captive aboard the previous ship.

“Whiskey-o, Johnny-o John

rise her up from down below

Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o

Up aloft this yard must go

John rise her up from down below…”

Chapter Text

Songs: Irish Eyes by Rose Betts

“Dad, please please please!”

The girl bounced around the dining table as her father consumed the last of his breakfast, staring at her through his furrowed brow. The girl stood on her toes, her chin resting against the table, watching him eat slowly.

“I can hear them outside right now! I want to hold them!”

“A leanbh.”

The girl frowned while her father continued to eat, watching his jaw move as he chewed on his dry meat.

“Now I am done. Child, you’ll put me six foot under faster than I’d like, I swear.”

“Let’s go!”

The girl ran outside of the one room cottage, immediately bounding towards the smaller stone structure in the corner of their fenced in property. She ignored the cold, running barefoot through the thick mud, the soft sounds of bleating lambs becoming louder.

“Saoirse! Your coat! You little- UGH!”

Her father jogged to keep up with her surprisingly quick little feet, carrying a thick jacket and two small muddy boots in his hand. He scooped her up in his one arm, much to her shrieking giggles. Her father arrived at the structure within a few seconds more of traversing the thick mud, before he brought her upright, throwing her coat and boots on her before she could squirm out of his arms. Finally dressed, Saoirse ran to the old fence, shoving her head through, watching a large white sheep walk close by to inspect the visitor. Behind her were three lambs, trying their best to follow her, slipping in the mud as they tried to suckle. Saoirse looked back at her dad with a twinkle in her face.

“They’re so perfect, Dad.”

“Mm.”

Her father muttered in agreement, keeping his elbows rested on the fence, thinking back to those few nights ago he helped the sheep birth her children. He thought back to his wife, the mother of his children, who had passed away due to birth complications, giving him the rambunctious girl tugging on his coat sleeve. How he assisted her in birthing his own children inside of their shoddy old cottage, all of which would pass away from illness. Saoirse was his only living child, and he worshipped his daughter like no father could. He smiled down at her curly head of hair, just like her mother’s.

“I want to hold them!”

“They’re too young, darling.”

“I’ll be soft…”

“I’m sure you would. Here, tell ya what.”

Her father knelt down to her, taking ahold of her hands.

“Someday you’ll be big enough to help me out here durin’ lambing season. Then you can touch ‘em all you want.”

“I’m big enough now! Look!”

The girl stood on her toes, standing as tall as possible. Her father laughed, before noticing a figure approaching them. The ewe from before had come to say hello, her three babies in tow. Saoirse gasped before looking up at her father.

“Dad!”

“They heard ya talkin’ ‘bout them, girl.”

Saoirse giggled, shoving her head between the fence again. She reached her hand in cautiously, stroking the curly fibers of the ewe’s coat, who looked unbothered as she ruminated.

“Dad, the babies…”

Saoirse reached for the babies, gently touching one of their legs. The lamb bleated, jumping away from the sensation, before tripping in the mud. Saoirse quickly backed away, looked at her dad, then immediately burst into tears.

“Oh, come now, girl.”

Her father scooped her up, rubbed her back, and began walking back inside their house. Saoirse cried out to her father, completely devastated, sniffing harshly between her words.

“I-I hurt it… I scared the babyyyyy…”

“No, no. The baby still needs to learn how to walk, like you did when you were a baby…”

The duo entered their small hut together as the clouds above began to turn dark. It would rain soon, and the two of them needed to stay inside to keep warm. With as small as his cottage was, it was so empty inside, with inly his young girl to care for. The man was determined to raise a strong woman with his own two hands, so help him god.

Chapter Text

Songs: Sive by Celtic Woman, Paddy Lay Back by the Dreadnoughts

The days drew by slowly as Saoirse regained her strength. She only ever saw Willy while she was conscious, but she was sure that others came to see her while she was asleep, much like Captain Schlatt did. She wondered if he liked to pet her hair in her sleep often. She found it quite endearing. On the morning of her ninth day, Willy awoke her with a soft whistle. Her eyes fluttered open, watching the man before her spoon some soupy porridge into a small bowl.

“Good morning Willy…”

“Mornin’ darlin’. Sleep well?”

Willy glanced back once before returning to his work, then carried her bowl of food over to her, allowing her hands to cup the bowl. She ate slowly while he went over to her legs, lifting the blanket. He nodded in approval.

“Legs lookin’ much, much better, I must say. Bruisin’ is gone, yer cuts are fadin’.”

Willy looked at her with a soft smile, then pulled the blanket off of her more. He adjusted her gown skirt while he spoke to her.

“I believe today’s the day we do some walkin’.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Aye. Ye need to move yer body. I’m sure yer sick of sittin’ in that ole hammock.”

Saoirse nodded slowly, scooping the last morsel of porridge into her mouth. Willy sat in the chair by her feet, moving her feet slightly.

“I’ll help you out, of course. I wouldn’t want ye walking on yer own alls a sudden… I’m sure John wouldn’t like that either.”

He said the last part to himself quietly, before chuckling. He began to untie the wooden boards from her legs.

“It’ll be painful, I’m afraid. But we got plenty o’ ‘medicine’.”

Saoirse nodded, smiling to herself. She would happily down a bottle of rum if it meant she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She watched Willy remove each tie from her legs, then set the boards against the wall. He stood back, looking proud of his work,

“Alright Ireland. Let’s stand you up.”

Willy stepped over to her, then brought his arms under the back of her knees, as well as around her armpits, then lifted her up as smoothly as she could. She winced, gritting her teeth at the pain, grabbing onto Willy’s shirt. He set her down on her feet, but kept holding her up as much as he could.

“There ya go… how do ye feel?”

“It hurts, for sure…”

Willy grumbled in response, before grabbing the bottle of rum beside him. He adjusted his grip on her body so that she was standing beside him, his one arm latched to her side, her own arm around his shoulder. He held onto her as much as she could as she kept most of the weight off of her legs.

“Alright, lass. Ready to see the deck?”

“I suppose…”

The two of them emerged from the bottom of the ship together into the bright morning while the rest of the crew was at work. She felt eyes immediately follow her form as the two of them walked over to the side of the ship to look at the vastness of the ocean before them. It was mostly Willy making the large movements, Saoirse was just barely putting any weight on her feet. He sat her down on the side of the ship, keeping an arm behind her to prevent her from possibly falling in. He held up the bottle of rum with raised eyebrows, wordlessly asking her if she wanted a taste, to which she simply shook her head.

“Strong girl you are.”

Willy smiled warmly at her while she looked ahead of them, watching the water lap against the bottom of the boat, coated in algae and barnacles. She had gotten rather used to some aspects of the pirate life, used to the way the boat was never stabilized to the ground. Her sea sickness had left her days ago, and she was now learning how the ocean worked, based on its steady rhythms. Today the waters would be nice and calm, perfect for their sea voyage to the colonial settlement of Antigua. While she was turned away, she heard thunderous feet behind her, only presumably belonging to the captain of this ship.

“Good morning, Red. Decided to join us for hard work today?”

Saoirse immediately snapped her head back, seeing Captain Schlatt looking pleased with himself at his joke. She scowled.

“It wasn’t my choice to be brought onto this thing. I won’t be doin’ a days worth of work to save your sorry life. And my name is Saoirse, not ‘Red’.”

Willy laughed as Schlatt smirked, crossing his arms at her rebuttal, coated in her rich Irish accent.

“Quite a lot to say today, don’t we.”

“She’s just workin’ through the pain in her legs, Cap. Give the girl a break.”

Schlatt thought about this request, before smiling.

“No.”

Schlatt walked off in search of something while Willy drank from the half full bottle of rum. Saoirse looked back at him with confusion.

“He isn’t goin’ to put me to work, is he?”

“He’d be a lunatic to. But… I’ve seen the boy do such a thing.”

Soon enough Schlatt returned, a man with a small instrument following behind. He strummed his fingers against the instrument and began singing a tune while others around them began to form some sort of circle. Schlatt watched the display before them, grinning ear to ear, before joining them in song.

“ Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm,

Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm,

Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm,

And we'll all hang on behind!”

Schlatt began dancing, receiving cheers and shouts from his men. Saoirse looked at the display before her as if she was watching someone be stabbed to death. Willy tapped his foot along with the song, softly humming to himself. Schlatt did a small spin, before stepping close to Saoirse. Wordlessly, he took her hand, bowed his head, then yanked her away from Willy and into his arms. Saoirse yelped, immediately trying to escape, but was unable to due to her legs, and the iron tight grip Schlatt had on the small of her back. He spun her several times, before waltzing around the deck, singing along with his boys. Saoirse continued to claw at Schlatt, pushing herself away from him, cursing into the morning sun.

“Get your slimy hands off of me-!”

“And we'll roll the old chariot along,

We'll roll the old chariot along,

We'll roll the old chariot along,

And we'll all hang on behind!”

 Schlatt ignored her pleas, instead spinning the both of them around, dipping her slightly. He looked into her eyes for the first time, and she realized then that his face was beet red. Was he nervous about this? Saoirse studied his features more, watching the way his smile seemed to turn sillier rather than cocky. She felt her heart throb painfully. This captain, although he had some attitude problems, was actually quite handsome.

Saoirse reluctantly smiled back at Schlatt, which made him seemingly more energized. As the shanty lulled, he raised his free hand up, calling for an encore. His hands remained firmly against her back, holding up almost all of her weight, allowing her bare feet to rest atop his, as he danced around the deck with her again. This time, she wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing to herself as he paraded around with her. She caught Willy’s eye at one point, watching the way he drunk the rest of the rum, smiling at the happy energy before him. Schlatt soon stopped in his tracks, looked into Saoirse’s eyes, lightly moving a strand of hair from her face.

“You are much taller than I anticipated, I must say.”

Saoirse looked down at her feet on top of his, then back up at him.

“Afraid of that?”

She was a taller woman, at least compared to everyone in her village. The top of her head reached the tip of his nose while she balanced herself on his sturdy boots. Schlatt merely laughed, then lowered his voice for her to hear.

“Tell me you have some Irish shanties, Red.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes at the use of the unliked nickname.

“I have a few, captain.”

Schlatt hummed lowly, happy with her response.

“Bless these poor souls with a song, darling.”

Schlatt grinned at her. She thought about it, then nodded.

“Alright, but I have one request.”

“Tell me.”

She took the pirate hat from atop his head and pressed it onto her own head, tilting it lightly.

“Call me Captain Red.”

 Schlatt’s eyes widened at the sudden confidence from her, and she was well aware of the gasps behind her. However, he only smiled wide and looked at the men behind her.

“Boys! The lass has a song; would you all be so kind as to shut yer filthy mouths for one moment!”

The men quieted as Schlatt carried Saoirse over to a barrel in the middle of the deck. He sat her down, leaning on a wooden beam behind her. She looked at the men before her, suddenly nervous, before noticing  Willy give her a big grin. Saoirse cleared her throat, then began to sing offkey.

“ 'Twas a cold an' dreary mornin' in December
Well, all of me money it was spent
Where it went to, Lord, I barely can't remember
So down to the shippin' office went!”

Saoirse continued on, as some of the men began humming with her, blindly trying to sing with her without knowing any of the lyrics. She felt Schlatt behind her humming along, before he decided to dance again, pulling one of his crew members into his arms to dance around the deck. Saoirse laughed through her song, watching the tall man twirl a short, plump man with a thick beard. She stopped for a second when the song ended, which in response made Schlatt look at her, upset.

“Again, Captain Red! Your voice is that of sirens!”

Saoirse snort-laughed, then started again, the pirate with the instrument strumming along with her the best he could. The other crew members clapped their hands and stomped their feet against the floor, keeping a steady rhythm for Schlatt to dance. When the song was over for the second time, they all cheered, raising their various bottles of alcohol in the air, before taking a long swig. Saoirse smiled to herself at the boys while Willy stepped over to her, whispering gently to her.

“My dear, you have courage.”

“What do you mean?”

Willy nodded his chin towards the pirate hat on her head.

“That thing is powerful. Removin’ a captain’s hat without askin’ is… bold.”

Saoirse didn’t think that was such a big deal, but she took the hat off anyways. Willy smiled.

“I tell ya, the boy is fond of yer presence, lass. I’ve never seen him as lively as he was then. He’s certainly tryin’ to impress ye.”

“With those dance moves? I don’t think so, Willy.”

“Well, with the way you were smilin’ at ‘im, I’d think different.”

Willy smiled at her before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Captain Red, your hat is supposed to remain on your head.”

Saoirse turned to see Schlatt, as he plucked the hat from her hands, smushing it onto her hair again. He grinned.

“It suits you, actually.”

His hand on her shoulder lingered much longer than it should have. He looked down at her legs before peering back into her eyes.

“I hope my dancin’ wasn’t painful on your legs.”

“No no, just my eyes.”

Schlatt raised his eyebrows while Willy hollered, walking away with a hand on his stomach. Schlatt sighed.

“I can’t trust you Irish ladies. Always so beautiful, always so witty.”

Saoirse’s cheeks flushed. Schlatt smiled at the warmness, then looked down at her legs again.

“Well, that should be enough for your movin’ today. On ya get.”

While saying the last part, he swiftly lifted her bridal style, then began descending down and back into the closet she was living in. He hummed the shanty that she had sung before, ducking his head upon entering the closet, then very gently laid her down in her hammock. He remained knelt, lifting the hat from her head and placing it back on his own. He smiled a toothy grin at her.

“You’ll have to serenade us sometime one o’ these nights.”

He paused, glanced away briefly, then looked back into her eyes.

“And possibly a lullaby for just myself.”

Saoirse laughed gently, pushing him away slightly.

“In your dreams, Cap.”

“Most certainly.”

Schlatt stood, adjusted his hat, then began to leave, before looking back on her again. His face was hot.

“When your legs are in working order, you owe this captain a real, proper dance.”

Saoirse stared at him, then nodded slowly. He smiled.

“Rest your head, Saoirse."

Chapter Text

Songs: goodbye by Billie Eilish

“Easy does it, pa…”

Saoirse helped her father sit down on the floor of his small ship, bringing a bowl of porridge to his lips. He ate slowly, his glassy eyes staring up at the cloudy sky. They had been on the water for about three days now, behind schedule just slightly. Saoirse sat down across from her father, watching him nervously consume his meal, staring straight ahead. He had gone blind a year ago, and was also losing his hearing. He was old, almost in his 60s, but his spirit was still young. The man did not want to die yet. Saoirse would help him keep his dream alive, however she feared this would be their last voyage together. She wanted to cherish it, knowing she probably wouldn’t be able to be around him for much longer until his body gave out.

“Saoirse,”

Her father spoke, his mouth full of food. He swallowed, before blindly reaching out towards her direction, holding his empty bowl. She took it, dipping it into the sea water.

“Yes, dad?”

“D’you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Blood.”

Her father tilted his chin up a bit, his nostrils flared, as he tried to catch the scent again.

“I swear, girl… I smelled it…”

“It’s probably just a dead fish…”

Her father was silent, before picking up the oars again, slowly rowing through the waters. Saoirse looked down at her compass, watching it jiggle slightly. They were headed the correct way, it would just take some time.

“Saoirse, I definitely smell blood.”

“Dad…”

She figured he was starting to go a little crazy a few months ago, and this only fueled her claim. He blindly looked around, smelling the air, looking like a dog. Saoirse sighed at him.

“Dad, there’s nothing-“

A figure began to form behind her father. It was large, dark, scary. It was exactly what she feared would happen. A band of pirates.

“Dad, where is your gun?”

“Eh?”

Saoirse stood as she grabbed the small pistol from the ground, yelling at him worriedly.

“Start rowing the other direction, Dad!”

“Eh? What? Why?”

“PIRATES!”

The red haired girl’s hands shook as she tried to load the gun, watching her father slowly begin to row in the opposite direction, but she knew it was no use. The pirate ship was looming closer, the sound of horrid laughter nearing, the smell of blood becoming stronger.

Saoirse loaded the pistol, her eyes welling with tears, as she watched the figures aboard the vessel whoop and holler at their find. She watched a few men grab some rope, beginning their descent down the side of their ship. Saoirse held up the flintlock, closed her eyes, then fired.

She heard a grunt, then a crash into the water. She hit someone.

She opened her eyes to see about seven or so men looking down at them from their boat, suddenly angry.

“The wench killed Richard!”

Two pirates jumped off of the side of their ship, immediately grabbed the gun from her, then tied her wrists with rope. Her father, confused, began shouting.

“What? Who’s there? What’s happening?!”

“Quiet, bog-trotter!”

Saoirse, who was already screaming, watched as the pirate who took her gun held the weapon to his temple, and fired, without thinking.

Her father’s body fell backwards into the water.

Saoirse screamed.

“DADDY!!!”

She fought, bit, scratched, cried out, did everything she could to tear herself away from these men, desperately trying to dive into the cold ocean to rescue her father’s body. It was no use, as she was already being hoisted by a rope onto the opposing ship. A she was pulled onto deck, she was thrown onto her back, four or five pirates looking down at her.

“Well, this is certainly not what I was expectin’ to find out here, but I’ll take it. Me men need somethin’ to olay with while we head to Spain.”

Saoirse stared up at the one that spoke, before feeling a hand immediately dive in between her legs. Without thinking, she kicked upwards, hitting one of the pirate’s jaw. A tooth fell out next to her face on the ground.

“Oh, we can’t have that now, missy…”

A large pirate stepped over her, holding a large wooden rod. He smiled at her.

“A good little whore doesn’t fight back.”

The rod came down on her legs, near her ankles. She screamed bloody murder, arching her back at the pain, feeling the rod crush her legs once again. The pain was so unbelievably unbearable that she eventually passed out, her body giving up, allowing the pirates to live out their wildest dreams, using her body for their own disgusting desires.

Chapter Text

Songs: Safe & Sound from the Hunger Games Soundtrack

Saoirse’s eyes snapped open suddenly, and she gasped, as if she hadn’t inhaled air in centuries. Her hair was stuck to her forehead in a cold sweat, and she suddenly felt nauseous. In order to not vomit all over herself, Saoirse turned violently to one side and spewed up whatever was still in her guts, before falling onto the floor with a loud thud. Saoirse groaned painfully, coughing up the rest of her stomach, then lifted her head slightly, seeing that it was pitch black in this room. Well, she thought, this is how she would die. Like a coward, on this floor, that probably hasn’t been scrubbed in decades, while her stomach and headache consumed any waking thought she had. Willy’s rum was good to ease the pain, but it wasn’t the best when you woke suddenly from a haunting nightmare.

Saoirse sat up more, then looked up at the door. She raised her fist, weakly hammered on it five times, then dropped her hand, feeling herself get nauseous again. As she lurched, gagging at the sickly sensation she felt in her stomach, the door ripped open, almost off of its hinges. A figure wordlessly grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding it back for her as she continued to empty her stomach. Saoirse’s eyes watered at the pain, her head feeling like it would explode from the immense pressure. She snorted, then spat on the ground, a shiver running down her spine at the sight and smell of her stomach contents.

“Thank you… Willy…”

Willy didn’t respond. Saoirse looked behind her to see a much larger figure behind her. Her instincts kicked in, and she immediately pushed the figure backwards off of his haunches. He fell back onto his ass, making him groan suddenly.

“Who are you?!?”

“Relax, Red…”

The man rubbed his face, moving sluggishly. He seemed like he just woke up. By the way he used that godforsaken nickname, she could guess who it was.

“…Schlatt?”

“That’s Captain Schlatt to you…”

Schlatt stood, let out a big yawn, then stepped over to her, holding out his hand. She slowly took it, and he effortlessly lifted her up, holding the small of her back as to keep most of her weight in his hands. She felt how warm his body was among the stagnant cold air of this little closet, worshipping his untidy smell.

“Could you get sick at any other time than now?”

Saoirse scowled at his rudeness while he carried her out of the room.

“Excuse me? I had a nightmare.”

Schlatt didn’t respond as he helped her walk out onto the deck.

“Where the fuck are you takin’ me?”

“On the deck.”

“Why?”

Schlatt plopped her down on a barrel next to a bucket of water. He turned and grabbed a dirty sponge from close by, then tossed it into the slightly soapy water.

“You have chunks of food in your hair. And you smell like a wet dog. You’re takin’ a bath.”

Saoirse stared at him.

“…You’re jokin’.”

Schlatt blinked, looking annoyed.

“A lady shouldn’t be smellin’ like my own men.”

“And who are YOU to tell ME how I should be smellin’, Cap?”

Schlatt pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily.

“I don’t want to argue about this. You’re washin, or I’m pushin’ you in the drink.”

Saoirse looked behind her, noting how high up they were above the water. She looked back at him.

“You wouldn’t.”

He faltered. She smiled, winning this little battle. Schlatt groaned angrily, before grabbing the sponge and walking over to her.

“Either you can wash yourself like a proper lady, or I’m doin’ it for you. Make your choice.”

Saoirse flinched, then snatched the sponge from his hand. He stepped back a few steps, arms crossed, eyes low. He stared at her as she did nothing.

“Well?”

“Don’t look at me, you pervert!”

Schlatt sighed, lifted his hands defensively, then turned around, bringing his hands under his arm pits.

“I’ve seen you nude before, whether you like it or not.”

Saoirse didn’t know if she could trust him, but she did feel quite gross. She took her dress off the best she could, then got to work washing herself. She looked up at him every once in awhile, watching him shift his weight onto his other leg, pick at his nails, or look up at the cloudy night sky. Saoirse opened her mouth to speak as she ran the sponge over her thigh.

“You could have avoided this trouble if you had just killed me.”

Schlatt didn’t respond. Saoirse looked down at herself while she washed her body, watching the dirt and grime wash away, her freckles returning to her pale skin.

“A pirate does not kill for sport.”

Saoirse looked back at Schlatt’s head as he spoke to her She stifled a laugh.

“Tell that to my kidnappers.”

Schlatt looked to the side, and she watched his strong jaw clench.

“As far as I am concerned, those men were not pirates. They were worthless dogs.”

“What makes you say that?”

Schlatt sighed, running his fingers through his long hair.

“Anything I say, you won’t believe me. I hoped my generosity would have been enough to get you to trust us pirates, but…”

He trailed off. Saoirse scrubbed in between her toes, watching a chunk of dirt wash away. She thought about what he said for a second. He could have absolutely taken her captive and continued those senseless acts on her body until she inevitably passed away from pure exhaustion, but he was instead allowing her the privacy to wash her body. He seemingly stood before her with his back turned as if he was trying to protect her. As if any man that dared to venture onto deck would be cut at the throat for laying an eye on her body. Saoirse ran the sponge through her hair while she spoke.

“…I trust you. I just… I’m scared.”

“…I know you are, Saoirse.”

Schlatt murmured low, his eyes closed, his head tilted back slightly. When she finished cleaning, she dropped the sponge into the bucket.

“I’m done.”

“Great.”

Schlatt looked at the dress next to his feet. He bent, picked it up, then threw it into the ocean.

“Hey-!!”

“It was dirty. We have plenty more.”

He kept his back to her as he unbuckled his leather belt. Her face became steamy hot as he pulled the shirt off of his torso, then tossed it towards her blindly.

“Wear this for now.”

She slowly bent over and picked up his shirt, inspected it, then shrugged it on. It was warm.

“Are you decent?”

“…Yes…”

Schlatt finally turned. His body was gorgeous. He had a shoddy tattoo on his right bicep, something she couldn’t decipher from where she was sitting. There were various scars along his body, she could only assume from fights. He slowly formed a devilish smile.

“Like what you see?”

She scowled, her face hot.

“Shut up, filthy pirate.”

He smiled wider as he walked over to her, then lifted her again. He began to walk back towards the deck, but she stopped him.

“Wait, I…”

“Hm?”

“…I can’t sleep, Captain.”

Schlatt paused, then sighed.

“Neither can I.”

He walked to the bow, then set her down on the ground. He took a seat next to her. Schlatt let his head fall back against the ship, his eyes closed. Saoirse stared at him silently, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“…Where is Willy?”

“Willy’s asleep. It’s my turn.”

“Your… turn?”

“To keep watch.”

Saoirse looked around her.

“I don’t see anything to keep watch for-“

“For you.”

She looked back at him while he continued to rest his eyes.

“Why are you keeping watch for me?”

“In case things like tonight happen.”

Saoirse blinked, then looked down at her lap. The sea air blew her hair against her face, making her shiver.

“…Why are you doing this? Why not one of your men…?”

Schlatt sat up and looked over at her, his eyes heavy.

“I don’t trust some of these scoundrels.”

Saoirse swallowed thickly. Schlatt looked dead serious as he said that. Slowly, he brought his left arm up behind her, resting it on the side of the ship, outstretched above her head. Saoirse sighed gently.

“Do you have any more questions about the way I do things around here, or can I enjoy the silence?”

Saoirse scowled at him.

“…No.”

“Good.”

Schlatt and Saoirse sat in silence for about five minutes as the sun just barely began to rise. Saorise stared at his body, watching his chest slowly rise and fall, noting the way his fist clenched and relaxed in his lap. Her eyes fell upon the tattoo finally. She could see it now as she was closer to him. It didn’t have any sort of shape or meaning, it looked foreign. She lifted her finger, then traced his skin where the lines circled around his chest. He jumped slightly, but didn’t say anything, letting her explore. He cleared his throat after a moment.

“I got this done in Antigua by some tribe members. Hurt like a bitch.”

Saoirse lifted her finger.

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Aye.”

Saoirse stared at him, watching his eyelashes flutter gently in the breeze as he rested his eyes. His jaw clenched and relaxed like his fist. Saoirse looked out at the ocean, feeling homesick.

“…Could we go to Ireland?”

The captain didn’t answer at first. She felt something tugging at the tangled curls in her hair. It felt like when her mother brushed her curls out with her fingers. These fingers were much harsher.

“We could go to Ireland.”

Saoirse didn’t move, allowing Schlatt to run his fingers through her red hair. He paused, then sat up slightly, removing his hand.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

Saoirse looked back at him, then nodded in agreement. She held her hand up for him, but he ignored her, lifting her bridal style. She huffed. Schlatt headed towards the stairs, but stopped, thinking. Saoirse opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by his swift 180 degree turn, headed towards a set of double doors. He nudged them open with his foot, revealing what looked like his office, but headed straight past the space. He entered a closed off room, a much more spacious bedroom, with a real bed.

“Captain-!”

Saoirse tried to complain, but was cut off by Schlatt, who set her down and tossed the blanket over her body.

“I could watch you better from my own quarters.”

Saoirse stared at him in awe, watching as he plopped down in a chair next to the bed. He kicked off his boots, smiling to himself.

“I’m sure my bed is much more comfortable than that hammock in the closet, mm?”

Saoirse wordlessly nodded, sinking deeper into the surprisingly comfortable mattress. Her eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. Schlatt leaned back, spreading his legs wide open, bringing his hands behind his head. Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden movement, unintentionally attractive, the way he filled the space with his body. Schlatt combed through his hair with his hands, yawning, oblivious to the ice blue eyes peering over him from his own bed. He seemingly began drifting off into sleep, until he heard a soft voice, distinctly Irish.

“…Where are you from, Johnathan Schlatt?”

His eyes snapped open as he looked over at her. He was silent. She assumed she struck a wrong chord, so she immediately went to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry, Captain, I heard it from Willy-“

“I’m from Naples.”

She blinked. Naples? That was near Spain. She didn’t take him as a man from such a citystate, she assumed he was from England, like Willy. His accent wasn’t distinct, like he had moved around a lot. She watched him blink, before rubbing his face, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’d rather not talk about my past, Red.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t… Don’t apologize…”

He yawned again, adjusting his position, before reaching over to the dresser beside him, grabbing his distinctive hat. He held it in one hand, eyes closed, chin tilted back towards the ceiling.

“A pirate does not become a pirate because his life was easy. That’s all I’ll say for now. Now if you wouldplease go to sleep…”

He placed the hat over his face, then put both of his hands behind his head again, his biceps flexing slightly. Saoirse sunk into his bed, pulling his blankets up around her face, smelling his musk. She was out within 30 seconds, thinking about what he said. She wondered if he had a troubled past like she did. She wanted to know more, but only at his own discretion.

Chapter Text

Songs: Brutus by The Buttress

“FLY THE COLORS, BOY! LET ME SEE ME JOLLY RODGER IN THE SKY!”

The dark bearded man laughed while watching the lanky boy use all of his might to pull the flags up high. The boy grunted loud, throwing his entire body weight against the ground, before accidentally letting go of the rope, sending the flags falling back down, as well as nearly sixty pounds of weight strapped to the rope. They crushed the boy’s stomach, making him immediately throw up, the ship rocking dangerously in the angered seas. The bearded man laughed louder, before walking over to the boy, pulling him up by his hair.

“How d’ye expect to become a pirate like meself if ye can’t even fly me jolly rodger, boy?”

The captain looked up at the rest of his crew, who looked extremely uncomfortable, averting their eyes from the scene before them. The captain dropped his head again before pulling up the flags himself, doing so at a slow, but rigorous pace. When he finished, he tied the rope off swiftly, before returning to the boy’s body. He heaved, catching his breath, feeling droplets of rain begin to fall onto his body. He once again was lifted up, but this time by the back of his shirt, and set down on his feet.

“Men, it would seem me own flesh and blood can’t even follow in his father’s footsteps. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass me title onto one of you lot-“

“I AM A PIRATE!"

The boy screamed, ripping his body away from the man, tears streaming down his face. The bearded pirate stared at his son angrily.

“Ah, there’s me son! I knew he was down there in that worthless shell somewhere! Kind of ye to join us Johnny!”

“I am more of a pirate than you will ever be! You are a tyrant! A brute!”

The bearded pirate laughed, the rest of his men silent. Johnny breathed heavily, his body shaking, blood roaring in his ears. The rain came down harder, a cloudy mist falling among the crew. Johnny’s father walked towards him, his hand on his gun in his belt.

“Say that again.”

Johnny was silent, tears streaming down his face.

“SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU MAGGOT!”

The butt of his father’s gun hit him hard on the side of the head, making him fall back, lifeless. His father spat on his eye, before walking away.

“I regret lettin’ that thing onto me vessel. Can’t even hoist me colors, worthless…”

“Captain, I believe you’re bein’ a bit hard on the boy…”

The dark bearded pirate looked into the eyes of a younger man with dirty blonde hair and a thin mustache. He didn’t say anything.

“…He’s but a teenager, sir…”

The captain stepped forward, causing the blonde pirate to take a small step back.

“Yer name?”

“…William Montoya, Cap.”

“William… If I hear another sound from yer sorry mouth, yer off the side.”

William didn’t say anything. The captain stepped back, his hands in his pockets. He stared at his men, eyes narrow. They didn’t move, seemingly afraid of the view before them. The captain smirked.

“The Crimson Tide is a powerful vessel, she does not allow pansies onto her deck. I employ only the strongest of men, and me son is not one of them!”

The crew did not speak. The dark bearded captain followed their gaze, finally turning, but it was far too late. His fate was sealed. Johnny pounced.

THUNK.

The captain’s crew quickly stepped back as the watched the primal scene unfold. A young boy, just thirteen, sat in top of his father’s body, wrestling a knife into his beck. His father screamed, yelled, trying desperately to get anyone to help him, but he was simply caught too off guard, and his son finally had the upper hand, for once in his life.

Johnny roared, the knife dug in.

The tyranny was no more.

Johnny did not stop.

The scene before the pirate crew was almost biblical. The boy, salivating, heaving, growling, stuck his dagger into his prey an upwards of fifty times, his muscles shaking and his mind bursting with an onslaught of powerful emotion. He wanted to taste his father’s worthless blood against his tongue, between his teeth, he wanted to savor the feeling. He stabbed in different locations, watching the way his corpse reacted. His father, now long dead, was his punching bag, his science experiment, his plaything. Johnathan Schlatt, the bastard child of a whore from Naples and a notoriously tyrannical pirate captain, was committing patricide.

The crew watched as the young boy’s body began to shut down, the adrenaline wearing off, the realization settling in. His body was aching, telling him that that was enough, his father was dead. Johnathan, now sobbing, blindly chucked the bloody murder weapon off of the side of the boat, then began driving his fists into his father’s skull. His knuckles bled, bruised, broken. The boy did not care. This man did not deserve the way he was treated. He was nothing but a flea, and Johnny was going to make sure he knew that.

His body was yanked backwards, his arms pinned down, as someone finally put a stop to his tantrum, Johnathan snarled, the heavy rainfall mixing with his tears, washing away the blood from his body. His father’s corpse was crumbled up in the muddle of the deck, the remnants of his skull staring into the sky. Johnathan fought back against the pirate that grabbed him, who happened to be Willy.

“He’s dead, Johnny! You killed him! You got him!”

A few crew members stepped forward cautiously, then drug the corpse to the side of the boat, heavily tossing him over. Johnny watched his father disappear into the depths below, destined to become the meal of a starving carnivorous sea creature. An ending, Johnny thought, his father didn’t deserve. He deserved to rot.

Johnny fell forward on the ground, digging his nails into the wooden deck, as he vomited up his stomach contents. Willy held his hands on the top of his head, breathing shallowly, trying to process what the hell just happened. Merely three minuted ago, his captain of about fifteen years was standing before him, threatening his life, the next, he suffered the same fate. Willy looked over at the captain’s hat that sat in the pool of blood. That man suffered a brutal death at the hands of his own son. A fate not many had the misfortune of living. Willy tread over to his captain’s hat, picked it up, then walked back over to the wet and tired boy, crouching on his haunches. Willy was afraid to touch him. He looked up at his crew members, watching them shift around worriedly, staring at the sobbing boy. Willy looked down at Johnathan, then placed a calming hand on his back.

“It needed to be done, boy.”

The captain was losing his mind each day that went by. He was power hungry, and he would have most likely been murdered by a different person if not for his own boy. Willy sighed shakily, watching Johnny sob, clutching himself in a fetal position. The boy looked up at Willy, snot running down his nose, his eyes bloodshot. Willy, holding the captain’s hat in his hand, helped Johnny sit up, then placed the hat on his head.

“…You’ve earned it, boy…”

A part of Willy was now deeply afraid of this child, capable of bringing down a 6’3 something-hundred pound human with but a dinky shank. Willy could see the fear in his eyes. He did not enjoy what he did, as much as he was smiling through the savage assault. He knew he was smiling because he finally had the last stand against his father. He had the last laugh. He worked for this title, he had proven himself to Willy, as well as the others on this boat. Johnathan reached up, feeling his father’s hat against his head, his eyes still flooded with fresh tears. Willy helped his stand up, then stood back, taking in a deep breath. Leadership ran through this boy’s blood, and as sudden as this dethroning was, Willy was ready for him to finally be able to prove himself to this crew, as well as the rest of the world. He was going to be a fearless captain, and this death would become a myth to tell for ages.

The boy stared at Willy, then turned, looking back at his crew. He swiped under his nose with his wet sleeve, blinking hard, trying to wash away the tears. His crew looked back on the boy with the same nervous stare, until one deep voice spoke up.

“…Where to, Cap’n?”

Johnny blinked. That was him now. He looked back at Willy, who nodded, reassuring him.

“…Wherever the sea takes us.”

Chapter Text

Songs: Thunderhead by Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners

“WEEEEIIIIGH ANCHOOOOOR!!!!”

Saoirse’s eyes opened slowly from her slumber, looking out of the window at the scene before her. She could see only the ocean, but she assumed that they were nearing land by the ruckus above her. Her mind instantly went back to the morning that she awoke in Schlatt’s own bed, by none other than the man himself. He complained to her about being a snorer, to which she replied something along the lines of him being an awful host. Their bickering had been steady, but she wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy it. He seemed to speak to her an an equal, challenging her brain to think of clever comebacks on the spot, laughing at her responses. She did enjoy his laugh. It was genuine, not forced.

“Ireland!”

Saoirse’s eyes fluttered and her head turned sharply to the left where Willy stood, holding two long sticks. He grinned, looking at the redness of her face.

“Catch ye at a wrong time?”

“No! I was just…”

“No need to explain yerself dear. Jus’ came down to tell ye that we’ve landed in Antigua.”

“…Alright.”

“…You’re comin’ with us. Doctor’s orders.”

She sighed heavily through her nose as Willy held up both sticks. This doctor he spoke of must’ve only been the man she had been daydreaming about only a few seconds prior.

“These be some walkin’ sticks. They’ll help you move about.”

Willy helped Saoirse onto her feet, then held his hands out around her as she got used to her walking sticks. They were uncomfortable, and she surely looked silly, but she could move. Willy looked extremely pleased with the display.

“Alright, well, we be landin’ any moment now. Come up on deck, take in the view. Have you ever been to the New World?”

“Never heard of it until now, Willy.”

They both laughed softly. It took her awhile to ascend the steps, but once she had, she was immediately met with a showstopping view.

Ireland had nothing like this island nation did. The clear blue skies, the sea green open waters, the palm trees… She caught her mouth agape as she took in the views.

“Wow…”

“Aye. The New World be a beautiful place.”

Saoirse leaned against her walking sticks, watching small humanoid forms walk in and out of a well established port. She was excited to see everything there was to be seen in Antigua.

“Cap’n’s nervous for you.”

Saoirse turned her head, before smiling, her eyebrow twitching up.

“Why? Afraid I might end up embarrassing myself?”

“No… These people in Antigua be kind, but… ah…”

He shook his head.

“Never ye mind. Just keep close to me. I’ll take ye to the towns square. Lots to be seen there.”

“Thank you, Willy. You’re too kind.”

“Yer welcome, dear.”

The ship docked successfully, despite its size. Each pirate descended the awkward plank sitting at an angle on the port’s dock. Saoirse was about to ask Willy how she would be able to traverse the nearly 45 degree angle, before she felt a hand on her back. She jumped, nearly falling over. Behind her was none other than:

“Oh, Captain! Don’t scare me like that, filthy pirate.”

He smiled warmly at the insult.

“Do you need some help or not?”

“No, Willy can- Willy?”

Willy turned to look back at her as he jumped onto the dock, grinning wide at her before shrugging.

“She’s all yers, Johnny!”

She heard a small laugh behind her, before she felt her body being lifted into a bridal carry, something she was all too familiar with at this point with the Captain. Schlatt descended the plank easily, hopped onto the dock, then set her down on her feet. She took note of the way he watched her recover, feeling his hand ghost her back, as if she were to fall, he would be ready to catch her. She was stronger than that, smoothly standing tall. He smirked at her confidence.

“Welcome to pirate heaven, Red.”

“I do wish you would learn my name sometime.”

The two of them slowly walked down the dock, Schlatt slowing his normally powerful and swift stride so she could hobble beside him. He looked up ay the sky, ignoring her request. Once they had stepped onto the sandy beaches, Schlatt looked over at Willy.

“Keep an eye on her.”

“Aye.”

Schlatt tapped the back of his fingers against Willy’s belt, his eyebrow raised in a silent question. Willy nodded.

“Of course, Cap.”

“I can always trust you, Monty. Now then,”

Schlatt knelt slightly before Saoirse, before taking her hand. He dropped a pouch into her hand, it was heavy.

“Buy yourself a new dress. I don’t want to keep givin’ you the clothes off of my own back.”

Saoirse slowly formed a smile.

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Cap.”

Willy chortled while Schlatt stood, giving Willy a “look what I have to deal with” expression. Schlatt stepped back.

“Buy yourself somethin’ nice, Red.”

He walked off, disappearing into the crowd of people before them. Saoirse turned to Willy, watching him run his finger over his belt, seeing something poke out. She didn’t question it.

“Where to, Willy?”

The duo traversed the bustling port colony together, stopping only when Saoirse caught sight of something interesting. She noticed all of the eyes on her, the tall pale woman with a bush of red hair among mostly indigenous people, the occasional colonial settler. Saoirse was staring at different pricey jewels, wondering which would look best around her neck, before she felt a hand on her back. Willy leaned in slightly while she looked behind her shoulder at him.

“Cap’n’s done with business. We’re stayin’ docked for the night, jus’ wanted ta let ye know.”

“Thanks Willy.”

“What’che got yer eyes on, dear? Mm.”

He nodded in approval at the gemstone jewelry before her, then looked up, seeing no shopkeeper. Willy whistled to himself as he took a step close to the table, before making a sneaky swipe, grabbing as many pieces as he could. He turned, shoved his fists into Saoirse’s pockets, smiling innocently.

"What's next on yer list?”

Saoirse wanted to protest to this act, but she was dealing with pirates, of course they took any and all opportunity to rob, steal, cheat, and lie. The duo spent the next few hours milling around the market, Saoirse keeping her gaze steady. She knew that anything Willy caught her looking at for too long would end up in either of their pockets eventually.

They both hobbled back to the ship with pockets full of goodies, only spending Schlatt’s allowance on a pretty blue dress that Willy carried in his arms. She was happy, she felt like she wasn’t being held captive on this ship anymore, she felt like some kind of a crew member for once, even if she did nothing to improve the lives of the people on board.As they made their way back, Saoirse looked up on the ship to see Captain Schlatt standing on the very edge of the tall ship’s deck, holding onto a rope to keep him from falling into the water. She couldn’t help but smile at the display before her. Schlatt then suddenly moved from his spot, jogging down the plank.

“Alright, darling?”

He asked breathlessly, smiling at Saoirse, then at Willy.

“Thank you, old friend.”

“Don’t mention it, son.”

Willy pulled a large flintlock from his waistband, passing it to Schlatt, who stuffed it into his own waistband. Saoirse’s eyes widened.

“Now what is this abo-!”

She was suddenly, yet again, being carried up onto the ship, by Captain Schlatt. Saoirse let her head fall back as she dramatically sighed, allowing the shenanigans to ensue, as Willy followed behind. Schlatt set her down on her legs carefully, before stepping back, looking over at Willy’s arms.

“Ah, a new dress?”

“Aye, Cap. Some things here and there…”

Willy winked, Schlatt nodded in approval while clapping his shoulder on the back. He flashed a handsome smile at Saoirse, making her blush.

“You’re a pirate now, Red.”

“I didn’t ask for him to-“

“Too late, you’re a filthy, dirty, rotten pirate. Now go rest, or do I need to carry you down again?”

“No! No, no no, I’ve got it, Cap, thanks…”

Saoirse started hobbling away, Schlatt watching her fondly. Willy looked up at his smile, before shaking his head.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen ye like this, Johnny.”

“What are you talking about, old man?”

“These old man eyes know love when they see it, boy.”

Schlatt ignored him, keeping his gaze on Saoirse as she walked down the stairs on her own, making sure Willy was watching.

Saoirse struggled to stand on her own, but when she was able to grasp her walking sticks correctly, she hobbled out of her room slowly, looking at Willy as he slept peacefully in the hammock outside of her door. She smiled at his peacefully sleeping state, before hearing a loud laugh from above. It didn’t sound like any of the pirates aboard this vessel, it sounded feminine. Saoirse hobbled over towards the stairs, ascended three steps, only her eyes peeking out. She watched a tall shadowy figure ascend the plank drunkenly, a woman riding his back. He set her down sloppily, catching her as she recovered, before he leaned in and kissed her passionately. Saoirse felt her heart stop as she heard the next words:

“I’ve never slept with a pirate captain…”

There was a low husky chuckle, which sounded all too familiar. The tall shadowy figure began walking, tugging his woman behind her, before entering the captain's quarters. The candles were blown out, and then it was all quiet. Saoirse trembled, her eyes filling tears, her body feeling like it would explode. This man, who she had spent the past three weeks hating, was now sleeping with another woman, and she was absolutelycrushed. This man was never her’s to begin with, yet she felt so… used. Was all of his flirting just to keep her on this ship? Just to prevent her from jumping and killing herself in the water? Saoirse stumbled backwards, hobbling briskly back into her room, before she fell into her hammock, sobbing quietly. She felt like her world was ending. She felt like nothing mattered anymore. She felt like she was alone again on this ship, being used as merely an object, a piece of meat. She sobbed herself to sleep, her tears staining her face, leaving dry spots behind as they disappeared into the moonlight.

Chapter Text

Song: De Selby Part 1

“Saoirse, lass.”

“Hm?”

Saoirse looked away from the window next to her cot and back at the dirty blonde man, holding a spoonful of porridge next to her face.

“We’re in the middle of eatin’.”

“Oh, we are?”

Saoirse leaned over and bit down on the spoon, then slid her head back, swallowing the tasteless soggy oats with a grimace.

“This be the third time today, Ireland, I’ve had to catch yer attention. Somethin’ on yer mind?”

A million things. Why did she feel so utterly heartbroken? Dejected? She felt nothing For Captain Johnathan Schlatt, nothing except disgust and anger and resentment. His womanizer attitude drove her entirely up the wall, his stupid waltz made her skin crawl, his deep brown eyes… those were comforting. And she guessed he had a nice smile. And his hair, though always messy, always looked effortless… she also supposed his body was okay to look at… and she couldn’t forget that voice…

She still hated him for what she saw last night. She wouldn’t deny her obvious skin-deep lust for him, but she knew that attractive exterior housed a much less attractive individual.

“No, not at all.”

Willy blinked.

“Yer face is as red as me blood runs thick, girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Saoirse had a solid poker face, but she could also feel the heat radiating off of her freckled cheeks. Quickly, she took the bowl from him, eating the rest of her dinner swiftly. Willy kept his eyebrow raised as he reached for the half full bottle of whiskey behind him.

“Alright, well, while Johnny came down to let me rest, he asked me how you were feellin’. He asked me if you would be able to walk again. He seemed interested in teachin’ ye how to walk on yer own again… er somethin…”

Saoirse didn’t respond, stuffing her face full of food to avoid conversation.

“…He wants to teach ye how to dance.”

Saoirse choked, grabbing her throat suddenly, before coughing out the ball of sludge from her throat onto the floor. Willy smiled.

"I knew it."

"What... are you… talking about… old man…”

Saoirse, out of breath, ran her fingers through her hair, glaring at him through her red curls. Willy shrugged.

“Well… clearly, ye fancy him much more than yer willin’ to admit.”

Saoirse snorted at the thought.

“Yea, right, especially after what he did last night.”

Willy was silent. Saoirse looked up at him, eyes wide.

“…I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Ah, I knew you caught him in the act, he wasn’t tryin’ ta hide it much. I must say, Johnny is a whore of a man. The boy will do anything with those good looks to get whatever he wants. He’s always had a reason to pillow someone, never knew him to lay with a woman just for the fun of it.  And, between you and me, Ireland… last night’s lay wasn’t particularly a doll.”

Saoirse blinked.

“…He sleeps with women to gain information?”

Willy nodded, eyes closed.

“Aye. Smart lad. I only say this to you because I don’t want yer poor heart to shatter. Don’t worry, he still fancies ye plenty.”

“Wha- UGH!”

Saoirse threw her empty bowl at Willy, who laughed, arms raised to shield his face.

“I don’t FANCY HIM! I-“

The door burst open. A short South American man, sweating bullets, stared at Willy.

“Uhm… Cap needs ye. We’ve got a situation…”

Willy froze, then immediately stood, looking out of the window by Saoirse’s head. Willy grumbled lowly, then quickly pulled the curtains closed, immediately turning to Saoirse.

“Saoirse, I need ye to follow my directions very closely. You are to remain in this room at all times, no matter what happens. You are to lock this door, and barricade it with anything heavy. You are to-“

“What in the DEVIL is goin’ on!”

Saoirse yanked the curtain open again, staring out at the vast ocean, seeing a small black speck, growing closer. She swallowed.

“We’re about to be under attack, lass.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: My Girl

Song: De Selby Pt. 2

“And whatever ye do, don’t make a sound.”

Saoirse nodded nervously, shrinking into her cot. Willy stood in the door, watching the way she cowered in fear.

“You’ll be okay, yer in good hands. Just… do as I said.”

He closed the door, and the room was silent. Saoirse closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She was about to experience her third pirate siege in a matter of a month. She had no idea what these kind of fights looked like, bur she didn’t really want to find out firsthand, so she would stay where she was. There was no way she would move from this spot. She would do exactly as Willy said. A cannon fired in the distance, and the ship lurched slightly. A near miss. Saoirse exhaled nervously, hearing the sound of boots thundering against wet rotted wood, angry shouts of war, the sound of metal against sheath, weapons being drawn. Blood would spill. Saoirse would hide.

The fighting began only about three minutes later, as both ships reached near each other. She could hear the sounds of pain and agony from above, seemingly from being stabbed, slashed, or shot. She prayed with all of her heart that Willy was okay. He was older, a notorious drunkard, and his eyesight wasn’t the best. She watched the way he gripped on the railing on the edge of the deck, the way he asked someone to repeat themselves. Saoirse bit her lip, eyes welling with tears, imagining the thought of him losing his life here today. Before she knew it, she was already leaving the safety and security of her closet, slowly crawling towards the stairway up to the top of the deck. None of the fighting had moved down to her level, it remained above her. Slowly she pulled herself up the stairs, peeking her head over the edge of the flooring, watching the fight play out. Schlatt’s crew was certainly against a formidable enemy. She noticed four or five men on Schlatt’s crew had lost their lives, while the other pirate crew had only lost about three. Her eyes trailed over to the mast, before noticing the remaining living crew members of the Crimson Tide had been restrained with rope and chain around the thick wooden beam. She couldn’t find Willy or Schlatt. Saoirse blinked quickly, washing away the tears, before noticing a large man dragging an unconscious man’s leg behind him, walking out of the captain’s quarters. He was holding Willy’s leg. The man threw Willy’s body to the side, holding something in his other hand. He approached two men standing next to a lump on the ground. Saoirse quickly realized this was Schlatt. He had been nailed to the ground. She swallowed thickly, feeling the urge to scream.

The man threw an article of clothing onto Schlatt’s bloody face. It was a pair of fancy ladies undergarments. They didn’t belong to Saoirse.

“Any fair ladies on board, Schlatt?”

“In your wildest dreams, Fitzgerald.”

The tall enemy pirate, Fitzgerald laughed, before looking over at Willy.

“I can always tell when you lie, Schlatt. Your father would be so disappointed in you. If you don’t show me where this bitch is…”

A gun cocked. He aimed at Willy’s head.

“William James Montoya is no more-“

“NO!”

Saoirse made her presence known, clawing herself into deck, grabbing onto a barrel to lean against as she stood. The enemy pirates whistles, eyeing her body hungrily. Schlatt wiggled, screaming loud.

“SAOIRSE, NO! GET YOUR ASS BELOW DE- AAAUGH!!!!!”

The pirate stepped on Schlatt’s hand, digging the nails in further, his eyes remaining on Saoirse. He smirked while Saoirse trembled.

“Who might you be, beautiful?”

“Don’t hurt Willy!”

Saoirse took a step, her body begging for mercy. Her legs were on fire. She wiped her tears while Fitzgerald room slow, drawn out steps towards her. Schlatt reeled.

“GET AWAY FROM HER. I’LL EAT YOU ALIVE.”

Fitzgerald placed a large, strong hand against her waist, before quickly pulling her into his arms, his hands immediately exploring her body. Saoirse shrieked.

“Get off of me! Let me go!”

“I haven’t felt a lady in decades.”

His hand, trailing up her waist, grabbed onto her bodice, and ripped her dress off in one quick movement. Saoirse cried out. Schlatt roared.

“YOU ARE DEAD, FITZGERALD!”

“QUIET BOY!”

Saoirse went limp, her entire body shaking, as Fitzgerald played with each curve and dip on her body. He smiled, smelling her hair, pressing his lips against her neck. His breath was rancid. Fitzgerald cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to stare into his own eyes.

“You look like you’d make a good little whore aboard my ship, hm? You’d like that. To be used everyday… Look at the way I touch your bitch, Johnny. She loves it.”

She felt herself hyperventilating, her hands trembling, her mind clouding up. She wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere but this moment. She imagined she was back home, making dinner with her father, tending to the lambs. She imagined she was sitting on the deck of this ship with Willy, listening to his origin stories, laughing at his jokes. She imagined she was back in Schlatt’s bed, napping peacefully as he watched over her, curling her hair in between his large blistered fingers. She imagined any other timeline than the present moment.

A gun fired, and Saoirse suddenly fell to the ground. Fitzgerald cried out in pain, holding his shoulder. Saoirse felt two strong, bloodied arms grab ahold of her, a familiar musk entering her nostrils. Saoirse returned to the present tense, realizing that Schlatt had managed to free himself while Fitzgerald was distracted, retrieve his flintlock, shooting Fitzgerald’s remaining crew members dead, while sparing the man himself. His breathing was shallow, his body was shaking, he was bleeding all over.

Schlatt never let Saoirse go.

“Any last words?”

Fitzgerald stared blankly ahead as he stood on the edge of the ship, his arms tied behind him, four of Schlatt’s men holding a rope tied to Fitzgerald’s hands. Schlatt stared into his broken soul, a blank expression on his bloodied face. He never broke eye contact as he spoke.

“Keel haul him, boys.”

One of Schlatt’s men kicked Fitzgerald off the side of the boat, and the men began to pull.

Saoirse had been placed in Schlatt’s bed only about five minutes ago. Her eyes were shut, her body was closing in on itself, contorting her naked body into a tight ball. There was no escaping this hell that was man’s lust. She didn’t even feel like herself anymore. She wanted to burn her tainted skin alive.

The door opened, Saoirse quickly sat up. Schlatt stood before her, his hands poorly bandaged up, his hat under his armpit.  His clothes torn, his face sweaty and bloody, his cuts scabbing.

He had been crying.

Schlatt stared at Saoirse for what felt like a century, before he lowered his head, closing his eyes.

“…I’m…”

He whimpered, gently.

“…Saoirse… I’m so… I’m so sorry, love…”

Saoirse blinked, hugging the blankets around her body tight, watching Schlatt close the door behind him. He sat down on the bed, facing sway from her, running his lumpy bandaged fingers through his hair. He cried silently.

“…You’ll stay in here from now on.”

She let out a small gasp. Schlatt looked behind him over his shoulder, staring at the window behind her. Newly formed tears fell from his eyes. Slowly she crept forward, reaching a pale finger up to wipe his tears. He smiled only slightly, reaching up to take her hand under his, her hand cupping his scruffy cheek. He closed his eyes, his head tilting into her hand, his lips grazing her palm. His touch was gentle, apprehensive. Begging to be touched by her skin.

“You’re never leaving my side, Saoirse.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 – Rest

Song: Be – Acoustic Version

The water was lukewarm.

Saoirse had been left alone to bathe in Schlatt’s private bathroom after he fetched her some water to use. She had been staring at her knees for the past five minutes when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“…Saoirse?”

Saoirse sat up, her voice cracking.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright in there? Is the water- is it cold?”

“No, it’s… alright…”

“Alright, darlin’, just… let me know."

Saoirse heard a soft thud against the door, then a gentle groan, before he seemingly left his bedroom to deal with the keel haul aftermath. She brought her attention back to the bath, staring at her wet legs in the murky water. She didn’t exactly know how to feel about herself in this moment. Everything felt like a blur. She didn’t understand why everyone on the ocean seemingly wanted to do the worst possible things imaginable to her. She knew that she was a young woman, but she had no clue why they wouldn’t just leave her alone and find someone else that wanted their advances. Some women could be bought for a cheap price…

She knew how men looked at her on the high seas. She was a rarity. Young, feminine, and her striking red hair didn’t help, either. She felt surrounded at all times, like every single man aboard this vessel was trying to deduce what she looked like underneath her robes. She wouldn’t doubt the idea that she was being watched now. Except, now that she thought about it… maybe she did.

Schlatt had shown a side of him she had never seen. Tears? She never thought of him to cry like that. Of course, she wasn’t upset about it. She understood that tensions were high. They were just attacked. He almost lost his best friend... Saoirse couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he was crying for her, however. She couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, only knowing of her for a mere month now. She was his prisoner, there was no kindness in this relationship… right?

Saoirse blinked, realizing how pruny her fingers were.

“…Schlatt?”

“Yes, Saoirse?”

His response was immediate, full of concern.

“Um, I’m… I’m finished…”

The door very gently cracked open. Schlatt held a hand over his eyes while he poked his head in. Saoirse smiled at the gesture weakly.

“Alright, just, let me know when you need my help.”

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, Schlatt… you’ve seen me nude before…”

He went quiet, then muttered softly.

“…I want to respect a lady’s dignity.”

“…I have none, Schlatt...”

He sighed, then slowly dropped his hand, still keeping his gaze away from her. She lifted her arms, silently asking for help out.

“Alright, um… here.”

Schlatt let out a frustrated sigh as he undressed, removing his top.

“Arms up.”

Schlatt scooped Saoirse up from the tub, wrapping her in his shirt. He then helped her walk out of his bathroom, and into his bedroom, keeping his arms wrapped around her torso. Once he sat her in his bed, he stepped back, watching her cautiously. He was, annoyingly, quiet.

Saoirse glanced to the side, then down at her lap, watching beads of water trail down her long hair, to her chest, then onto his bed. She was still soaking wet, and his thin linen t-shirt did nothing to hide herself. She… didn’t care. She felt as if her body didn’t belong to her anymore for quite some time now. She could learn to accept that her womanhood was nothing more than an outlet for a man to release his desires onto.

“Red?”

Saoirse caught his eye. His were bloodshot, red, his face was swollen from the angry crying he bad done. However, his expression was as stone cold as the day he met her.

His breath hitched as he went to speak.

“Willie’s doin’ okay, some of my boys are lookin’ after him in the sick bay. Um, well… he’s there, so… damnit.”

Schlatt turned to the side, arms crossing. Saoirse raised an eyebrow.

“Like I said before, when I was… well… emotional. You’ll be staying here with me from now on.”

Saoirse was silent. Schlatt looked into her eyes, digging for some kind of reaction.

“...Logically there’s nowhere else for you to go, unless you want to sleep with my men below deck…”

“Absolutely not.”

Saoirse stared into Schlatt’s eyes, her expression full of fear. She could only trust two people on this ship. With one of them inebriated, she could only rely on the other one to provide her with some form of protection from the others. Schlatt noticed her fear. He sighed, rubbing his hands on his face. 

“I… I apologize for my tasteless joke. Not the time for that now. Um…”

Schlatt looked behind her at the window, watching the moonlight dance among the quiet lapping waves. He sighed.

“I have to take care of a few more things. Please, help yourself, lie down, rest up, you…”

He met her eyes.

“...You need to rest, Saoirse.”

Saoirse nodded slowly, laying back in his bed. He watched her for a moment longer, before disappearing through the door, shutting it quickly behind him. 

—

Saoirse stared at the ocean view as she laid on her side, clutching Schlatt’s worn blankets in her arms, her body contorted into a fetal position. She sobbed, angrily, sadly, afraid. She hadn’t had a single moment of rest since her father was murdered. Her body hadn’t been able to relax, release the tension, since then. She had had her guard up for over a month, and even then she was still being attacked left and right. She gasped in between sobs, angrily driving her fist into her forehead, grabbing her scalp with her nails. She tugged on her hair, all of her pent up frustration coming out all at once. She wanted to scream, cry, she wanted to disappear. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to live like this. She didn’t know how much longer she would allow herself to live like this. She was cattle. An object to take, to conquest, to ravage, to buy, to use, to-

The door opened. Saoirse went quiet. She felt her body tighten, the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her eyes pouring with tears. She hoped it could only be one person…

“...Red…”

She exhaled.

She felt the bed dip next to her, and a large hand run through her hair. It connected with the death grip she had on her scalp, gently working his fingers through her own, until he was a le to release her hand from her hair. He smoothed her hair down, stroking through her loose curls. He brought his hand towards her shoulder, causing her to flinch. He froze, then brought his hand over towards his blanket that she had bundled up in a mess around her. He pulled it up her body more covering her skin. His hand gently rested on her covered shoulder. Saoirse didn’t dare look at him.

“...The first time I saw you, I thought you were a siren, y’know.”

A siren? Like a mermaid?

“Your… your hair is unlike anything I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Red.”

His hand went back to her hair, this time two hands. She could feel him sitting beside her head, gently brushing through the knots and tangles that had formed. She felt him softly tugging on a few strands.

“...I thought I was smart enough to know what to do in any kind of situation. I thought I was a strong leader. I… I clearly misunderstood myself.”

He braided three thin strands of her hair, his fingers working slowly.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do to make you feel safe, Saoirse. I never intended to keep you here for so long, but… I… I can’t seem to let you go… I can’t…”

He paused. 

“...I can’t let you go, Saoirse. I need to protect you.”

Schlatt brought his eyes from the braid he was working on to her face, slightly hidden by her hair. He brushed it aside, hoping to see her eyes, only to find that she was asleep. Soundly. Her chest rose and fell gently.

He sighed.

“...Sleep tight, Darling.”

His hands left her hair. The room went dark as he extinguished his candle. His bed, now occupied by two people, felt warm, for once in his life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Target Practice

songs: In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier, Big Parade - The Lumineers

Schlatt watched as the empty bottle of rum broke against his mother’s head.

The room was cold, dark, damp, it smelled like death. The once warm home was now becoming a crime scene. The young boy squirmed against his restraints, crying out for the woman on the ground who was being cornered by the hooded man. He held the broken bottle in his hand, training it in her direction. His mother pushed herself against the other wall, her chest rising and falling quickly, as blood trickled down her forehead.

“D-Don’t hurt me-”

“MAMAAAAA!!!”

The hooded man turned, staring at Schlatt. His mother shrieked.

“NO! DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

The hooded man approached Schlatt, then crouched on the ground, using a bloodied hand to cover the boy’s mouth. He let out a small cackle. His breath smelled rotten.

“Cryin’ fer yer mumsy? Ahaha…”

The man drew a small knife from his boot, playfully dragging it across the boy’s neck, just slightly grazing him.

“Soon ye won’t have a mumsy ta cry fer, boy.”

He grabbed the boy’s wrist, turning it over to see his palm. He stuck the knife into the boy’s hand, dragging it across his skin, creating a small figure. His mother sobbed loud, weakly trying to regain her balance.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT’S ME YOU WANT! IT’S-”

“SHUT YER BLOODY TRAP YE WENCH!”

The man stood after stabbing the knife into the wall next to Schlatt’s ear. Schlatt stared at his palm, at the morose initials he carved into his skin. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness at the sight of his own blood pooling rapidly in his hand, trailing down his arm, down to the dank floor. He looked up, watching the man begin to hog tie her. The last thing Schlatt remembered before his mother was murdered was the sight of the man using his knife to cut away her robe, his voice cutting through her terrified cries.

“Lie still and take it like a good whore.”

“Uuhg-!”

Schlatt’s eyes snapped open, and he quickly sat up in bed. He was drenched in sweat, and his blanket was twisted around his leg, somehow around his neck as well. His chest heaved. But… he was safe. Most importantly… she was safe.

No man would touch a red hair on her head. He would make sure of it.

Schlatt looked beside him at Saoirse, who was sleeping soundly beside him, facing away from him. She was curled up under a different blanket that Willy had lent her from the sick bay. He was a hot sleeper, he didn’t need one. She wasn’t disturbed by his movements, at least he couldn’t tell if she was. For the past week since the ambush, she had been sleeping beside him, and she had never been awoken by any of his night terrors. Schlatt lowered himself onto his elbows, tossing his head back as he collected himself. He had always been one to have nightmares while sleeping, at least once a night. They always seemed to return to the night he lost his mother. Schlatt picked one of his hands up, looking at his palm. His bandaged hands were extremely dull and numb to any sort of touch. He still had no idea how he managed to rip his hands from being nailed to the ground. He scared himself, sometimes. 

“...Saoirse…”

He found himself detangling her hair again, separating the curls from eachother. He didn’t know why he was so attracted to this part of her. He had always grown up reading myths about sirens and mermaids, and they always had red hair. He smiled to himself. Saoirse could pass for a siren. She had the physical attributes. Her attitude could use some work, possibly… although every snarky remark, every clapback, it only made his heart yearn for more. He wanted to pick apart her beautiful brain, discern just how she was able to become such an intelligent, sharp, beautiful creature. Schlatt brushed her hair to the side, looking down at her face briefly. Moving without thinking, he pressed his dry lips to the part where her ear met her cheek. 

“What are you doin’ to me, darlin'…”

Any other woman he had slept with had never made him feel as intensely as he did now, just by watching her sleep. He felt such a strong desire to make sure she would never have to live in fear again. He failed his mother, the woman he had loved the most. He would not fail again. Schlatt placed a cautious hand on her hip, feeling his eyelids get heavy. Despite her distrust of him… she was a light on this ship. He would keep her light shining for as long as he could so help it.

—

Saoirse sat up slightly, licking her cracked lips with her dry tongue. She let out a groan, holding her head in her hand as she sat up in bed. The room was bright, the morning was upon them, yet she was alone in bed. The other occupant had  shucked away his blankets and left them a sloppy mess, no interest in making his bed. Saoirse rolled her eyes. Typical boys. She glanced over at her walking sticks close to the wall, just out of arms reach. Maybe she could walk to them on her own… Her legs had been feeling stronger lately…

Saoirse nudged her legs to the side of them bed until her feet touched the ground. She couldn’t really feel any sensation down there. She breathed in gently, then exhaled, standing as she breathed out. Her legs trembled under her weight, but for a brief second, she stood on her own, almost completely upright.

After that brief second, she immediately fell.

“Ow!”

Saoirse face planted into the ground, knocking her walking sticks on top of her. She moaned in pain. Just as soon as she fell, the door burst open.

“Red? Where are- oh, God, Red. You’re pathetic...”

“Excuse me?”

Schlatt sighed as he knelt beside her, placing his hands under her arms, effortlessly setting her back on the bed. Saoirse kept her eyes closed while she fixed her messy hair, brushing it away from her face with her fingers, angrily mouthing off at him.

“How do you get on talking to a lady such as meself that way, eh? Yer incredibly rude, yaknow. Absolutely unecessary, I was just tryin’ te-....”

Oh.

Her voice dropped as she opened her eyes. In front of her stood a very sweaty, very shirtless Captain Schlatt. He held his bandaged hands on his hips, his hat clutched in one hand, his bandana holding his long dark hair out of his face, collecting his sweat. His chest rose and fell slowly as he collected himself, his muscles flexing very slightly as he shifted his body.  Hair sparsely littered his chest, a small trail growing from his belly button leading down to-

“Red? You were sayin’?”

He cocked. his eyebrow

“...Uhhhhh…”

Schlatt grinned, savoring the moment. 

“...Right. Well, I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Saoirse rubbed her face aggressively with her hands, trying to scrub her brain of the incredibly sexy man she just had the pleasure of violating with her eyeballs.

“Wh…what might that be?”

“Come out n’ I’ll show you.”

Schlatt took both of her walking sticks in his hands, helping her blindly navigate to them. He helped her stand up, then took a step back.

“Can you walk on your own, or do you need my help?”

“Out of my way you rat.”

Saoirse grumbled as she pushed past him, making him laugh loud.

As she entered the deck, she noticed something  was extremely off. There were barrels of rum set in different locations on the deck, each with empty bottles on top of them. None of his men were above deck, either. Where had they all gone…?  Saoirse looked behind her at Schlatt, who was leaning against his door, arms crossed.

She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t, so she spoke for him.

“...What the bloody hell kind of shit art project ye got goin’ on out here?”

He snickered before walking up to her.

“Not an art project, Red. This is your target practice.”

“Pardon me?”

Schlatt sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just… c’mere.”

“No, nonono, I don’t like when you say c’mere- AH!”

Unsurprisingly she was swept off of her feet by Schlatt, who carried her bridal style towards a smaller barrel. Saoirse went limp, groaning loud while he did this.

“I really hate when you do this…”

“Oh, hush, you love it. Take a seat here.”

He set her down on the barrel, then went to stand behind her.

“What does it look like now?”

Saoirse wordlessly shook her head.

“...Absolute bollocks?”

“Fucks sake, Red, have more faith in me. Here.”

A cold metal object appeared in her lap. Saoirse gasped. It was a large fancy handgun. Saoirse looked up at him warily, while he met her with a reassuring smile.

“Well, go on. Hold it.”

“I…”

Saoirse looked back down at the gun, then nervously took it in her hands. She studied the craftsmanship, observing the engravings on the grip. It was beautiful. Saoirse turned the gun to point it at herself, closing one eye and squinting down the barrel.

“WOAH! Ho, ho, ho, easy there darlin… You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Schlatt quickly snatched the gun from her hands.

“Rule number 1, Red. Never point the loaded gun at your eyeball.”

“Why?”

“...Are you seriously asking me that?”

Saoirse grinned innocently.

“I’m seriously waitin’ for an answer, Captain.”

Schlatt’s eyes rolled, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. Saoirse loved to make him smile.

“Saoirse, today you’re goin’ to practice firing a gun.”

Saoirse looked at the bottles lined up on the barrels, noting how empty it was on deck besides just the two of them. Had he… set something extremely elaborate up, just to keep her busy? What was the reason for this?

“Why would I ever need to fire a gun?”

Schlatt set the gun down on her lap again, leaning down on one side to look into her eyes.

“Because you be a pirate now, lassie! Arrrgh!”

Schlatt growled, making an unconvincing impression of a pirate. She stared back at him with a totally unamused face. Schlatt sighed.

“...Because I think it’s important for you to learn how to properly protect yourself.”

Saoirse looked down at the gun, finding his answer somewhat satisfactory. As she lifted the weapon again, being careful to aim it away, she found herself struggling to grip it properly. Her hand shook a little. Schlatt watched silently, before letting out a soft sigh.

“Here, Saoirse, let me…”

His hands wordlessly wrapped around her own as he pressed his chest against her back. His chin hovered over her shoulder as he assisted her, positioning her fingers properly.

“Your index here, n’... middle n’ ring finger… your thumb here…”

He spoke low to her, his breath tickling her bare shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and strong, against her left shoulder. His arms enveloped her, shielding her from the world, while he assisted her, something she knew he didn’t need to do… she was a crafty person, she could get it soon enough. There was no other reason to do this than to…

He stopped moving her fingers.

“Ah, there you go.”

His hands didn’t move.

“...Well… try shootin’ something. Like… here.

His lips were next to her ear, she could hear everything he said, even if it was whispered. He seemed to know this. Saoirse felt her heart skip several beats in this moment. He aimed the gun at the nearest bottle, one eye closed, the other open.

“Pull the trigger, darling.”

She weakly pulled her index finger back, her arms and hands moving upwards slightly as the bullet fired. the bottle shattered. Schlatt let out a soft hum of approval, before whispering low.

“That’s my girl.”

My girl. Saoirse remembered him saying something similar a few days ago. Oddly, it didn’t bother her. She was afraid to ask herself why it didn’t. She didn’t want to know the answer to that question. Schlatt straightened up, removing his hands. He went and leaned against the wall next to her, arms crossed.

“Now, try a few on your own. If you… if you need my help, just let me know. I’ll be right he-”

“Thanks, I got it.”

Saoirse stuck her tongue out at him, making his eyes widen. He laughed silently to himself while she trained on her next target. She trembled as she went ro pull the trigger, not realizing how much force she would have to use. But, soon enough, the bullet shot out, and she hit her second target. Saoirse looked at Schlatt with a big grin.

“I-I did it! By myself!”

“Atta girl, Red. You’re gonna become a fierce pirate in no time.”

Schlatt grinned back at her, a real, genuine grin. A grin that said “I would do anything for this woman right now”. Saoirse didn’t know that. Schlatt did.

—

“Are you sure you don’t need some help…?”

“For the last time, Red, no. What help could you be?”

Saoirse sat atop the small barrel while she watched Schlatt and a few crew members haul the barrels of rum back down to his cellar. She wasn’t really able to move from her spot here, her walking sticks were leaning against the wall about five feet away, much out of her reach. She crossed her arms, watching as Schlatt came from under the deck, going for his last barrel. He turned the large wooden object into its side, rolled it towards the steps, then squatted, grunting as he lifted the object into his arms. He disappeared under the deck again, his upper body muscles flexing to their full capacity. Saoirse felt useless here, but she didn’t mind the show she got out of it.

“Yer droolin there, Ireland.”

Saoirse quickly turned to her right, seeing Willy standing next to her, leaning against the mast. 

“Willy!!!”

Willy happily went to her open arms, accepting her hug warmly. He let out a gentle “uuf!” as her arms wrapped around his neck. He smelled like death, in all honesty, but that’s the Willy Saoirse knew. She pulled away, grinning ear to ear, before frowning. He had a massive welt on his face, and he was missing a new tooth. He had cuts and bruises up and down his exposed arms.

“Willy… what happened?”

“Ahhh, I’ll tell ye later. I’m…”

He stopped speaking for a moment, which was rare. Saoirse blinked, waiting patiently for him to finish.

“I’m… tryin te put that night past me, darlin’...”

Saoirse nodded, hugging him again. 

“You don’t got to say anymore, Willy. I understand.”

Willy rubbed his arm up and down her back, watching Schlatt with a stern face as he emerged from below deck. They shared a wordless exchange with eachother, Willy nodding his chin at Schlatt, before releasing Saoirse once again.

“I’m glad yer okay, Ireland. Ye been through a lot, here…”

Saoirse didn’t reply. She hadn't thought about that night in awhile. She couldn’t… remember a lot of it. She didn’t know why. She just remembered seeing Schlatt nailed to the floor one second, then being in his bathtub the next.

“I’m okay, Willy…”

Willy nodded, looking out as Schlatt’s crew took their place on deck again, returning to their laborious tasks. He turned his head to look at Saoirse, smiling softly.

“I have a surprise for ye.”

“A surprise? What do you mean?”

Willy reached into his pocket, pulling out a compass chained to his belt.

“Ye know how to read this?”

Saoirse rolled her eyes, Willy chuckled.

“Tell me where we’re facin’.”

“...North… East… Northeast?”

“Aye, lassie. We’re goin’ to Ireland."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 13: The Minuet

songs: Cherry Wine - Hozier, Gathering Peascods - The Broadside Band, All For Me Grog, an old sea shanty

4 ½ weeks earlier…

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“When has anything made sense for us, Johnny?”

Captain Schlatt crossed his arms while looking out over the dark waters, the ocean and sky blending into the same midnight blue color. The stars were twinkling ferociously, the waters reflecting their glow. Schlatt let out a soft sigh through his nose.

“I find it hard to believe a band of crooks would just have a girl like that locked away in their basement if they weren’t intending to use her as bait. There must be something more to it.”

William Montoya stood beside Schlatt, smoking a long pipe. He let out a soft grumble.

“I think sometimes you think about things too hard, boy. What I saw was their idea of a live-in harlot.”

Schlatt was silent. Willy turned slightly, noticing how while his knuckles were as he balled his fists. His jaw clenched, his eyes were closed. William sighed, placing a hand on his back.

“We be cruel creatures, son.”

“I refuse to associate with anyone who cannot control their selfish desires like that, and take it out on the most vulnerable people. I am not one of those people.”

Schlatt turned to Willy.

“Monty, check on her for me, will you? I’ve prepared some soup, take that to her.”

“Aye.”

Willy turned, walking into the captain’s quarters, then descended below deck holding a large bowl and spoon. Schlatt stared back into the open water, then looked down at his palm. The signature was barely legible at this point after all of the wear and tear he put his hands through day-to-day. He never forgot that fateful night. The night he lost his mother. Schlatt clenched his fist, trying to disregard that awful memory. Thinking about that would only spoil his already sour mood further. He was endlessly confused as to how they ended up with an Irish woman in their clutches. He remembered fondly how terrified she was of him after he had rescued her mere hours ago before the sun had set. She was nude, rendered lame at the hands of such cowardly creatures. Schlatt wished he could do what he truly wanted to do to those men, unfortunately Willy had to bestow his wisdom upon him. Schlatt couldn’t become like them, killing for sport, riding off the torture he inflicted on others. It wasn’t right. He had to be principally neutral. There was no morality in this lifestyle.

Schlatt descended the stairs, pushing the door open gently.

“Johnny, ye just missed her.”

Schlatt wordlessly stared at the sleeping red haired woman, taking note of the bruising along her entire pale body. Her eyebrow was swollen slightly, her hands had several cuts. Schlatt clenched his jaw, crouching slightly to get a better look at her. Her skin was fair, she had freckles over her nose and cheeks, her bare shoulders, as well as her fingers. Her lips parted slightly in her slumber. What caught his eye the most was her hair. She had an absolutely wild head of hair, one that he had never seen before, at least not as bright as hers. Her curls were tight and unkempt, beautiful and wild. Her hair was the color of fresh strawberries.

Willy cleared his throat, leaning back on the stool he sat on. 

“She looks like little Mary.”

Schlatt nodded.

“I…”

Schlatt caught his breath, crossing his arms squarely.

“I can’t believe this woman isn’t a siren of some sort.”

Willy laughed.

“As far as I’m aware, she’s got two legs and no gills. What the devil makes ye say that, boy?”

“She’s extraordinarily beautiful.”

Willy smiled warmly.

“Aye…”

There was a period of silence as Schlatt continued to study her features, before turning towards Willy again, frustrated.

“Not even a succubus?”

“Well, that, I don’t know.”

Willy watched Schlatt furrow his brow.

“...Ye got that look on yer face Johnny.”

“What are you on about?”

Willy leaned his back against the wall, smiling suspiciously wide. Schlatt narrowed his eyes.

“William?”

“Nothin’.”

Schlatt scowled at him, confused, watching Willy laugh quietly to himself. He looked back at the woman in the hammock, listening to the soft sound of her snores.

“Anyways… is the girl doin’ well?”

“Her spirits are up, I would say. She told me her name is, eh… Sur-shuh… Saoirse… somethin’ Irish.”

Schlatt silently said her name to himself over and over again, familiarizing himself with the pronunciation. He looked over at Willy as he frowned, letting out a low hum of disapproval.

“Poor thing’s scared to death, I can tell from the way she looked at me. I was puttin’ some medicine on her, while she was still nude, she looked like she might cry…”

“Can’t blame her…”

Schlatt felt his blood boil again. He dug his nails into his arms as he crossed them over his chest, closing his eyes, desperately trying to get the disgusting thoughts out of his head.

“…I don’t… I can’t seem to understand how such… creatures... could do such a thing to such a young lady… I understand us men have our desires, but…”

Schlatt let out a growl of disgust, rubbing his face with his hands harshly. Willy nodded slowly.

“I’m glad we found ‘er when we did. No doubt she’d be a goner give or take a few days… You said the lass has some fight in her, eh?”

Schlatt’s hand moved before his brain did, and he soon realized he had placed his hand on her calf over the blanket.

“Careful, Johnathan, you’ll wake her…”

Her warmth was electrifying.

“The girl’s got a fire. She told me she wanted death, but I pestered her a bit, she seemed to fight back. I reckon I can get her back to her own self with more work from my end.”

He chuckled, moving his hand from her calf to her hair, lightly stroking it.

“…Her hair is entrancing.”

“Never seen such a color, eh, Johnny?”

“Not as bright as hers.”

Schlatt moved his fingers reluctantly. He noticed her eyelashes fluttering, as did Willy.

“I think she’s wakin’ up. I’ll get goin’. I’ve got some more soup for her.”

“You don’t want to say hello?”

“I don’t want her to risk hurting herself tryin’ to rip my face off, Monty. The girl’s not fond of me.”

“Ah, well… get goin’ then.”

Schlatt nodded, wasting no time in leaving the two alone. He didn't want to frighten her more than she already likely was. He didn't want to make that kind of impact on her. He trusted his friend with anyone, especially a battered and bruised woman, absolutely petrified of being stuck on a ship full of 20 dirty rotten pirates. Schlatt entered his bedroom, tiredly throwing himself into his bed. He couldn’t let himself get too close to her. He didn't want to do that to her. Anyone he managed to let into his heart in that way always ended up dead in one way or another. He couldn’t look at her that way, for her own safety. Schlatt stared at the ceiling, furrowing his brow. Despite his wishes to push her out of his heart, he simply couldn’t forget that face. The way she looked at him when their paths first crossed. She was scared, and that hurt him, but… her blue eyes were captivating. Her lips, pouted, soft, swollen from the excessive crying. He wanted to know every single thing about her. He wanted to dry her tears with his hands. He wanted to calm her mind, he wanted to ease her conscience. He decided then that he would do anything for her, anything her heart desired. He wouldn’t hold her prisoner. If she wanted to be released, he would do so. If she wanted to go back home to Ireland, he would do so. Schlatt groaned. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman before. 

“Maybe she’s a witch… and I’m under some kind of spell…”

—----

6 weeks later…

“Easy now, easy…”

Saoirse groaned, holding onto Willy’s hands as she stood up. Her legs wobbled, pain shooting up through her body from every muscle in her lower half.

“That’s good, Saoirse. Just focus on keepin’ yer balance.”

“I… It hurts, Willy…”

“I know, love. Just focus on yer balance…”

Saoirse looked up at the sky, gritting her teeth. She held Willy’s hands tight while he watched her fight through the pain, being cautious in case she took a fall. Behind them, Schlatt leaned against the side of the ship, sharpening a hunting knife. He had insisted on watching her during her therapy sessions, “just in case”. Saoirse asked him what “just in case” meant and never received a solid answer, so she gave up a few days in.

Saoirse caught him in the corner of her eye, noticing him staring intently at her. He had a horrible habit of making the most ferocious looking face when he was focused on something. He looked like he wanted to eat her, but she just knew he was concerned.

“Alright, Ireland. I’m gonna let go of ye now.”

“W-Wait, not yet…”

Willy pursed his lips, smiling sadly at her.

“Ye did this just fine yesterday…”

“I’m just… I feel off…”

“Alright, just let me know when you’re ready, Saoirse.”

Saoirse bit her lip while looking down at her legs. She was wearing a shorter dress roday so she could see her calves. They were shaking, she could start to feel it down to her toes, which had regained sensation only a few days ago. Her body was telling her no, but she knew she had to push through. Willy had done so well at looking after her, she couldn’t throw away his efforts now.

Saoirse let go of one of his hands, then the other, holding her arms out to the sides. She wobbled, her arms rotating to counteract, setting her balance straight again. It hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“That’s a girl, Ireland! Lookie, Johnathan, she’s all upright n’ everythin’!”

Saoirse looked over at Schlatt, watching him slowly run the sharp steel over his blade. He locked eyes with her, and immediately his expression softened.

“Atta girl, Red.”

Saoirse grinned sheepishly, before looking back at Willy.

“O-Okay Willy, I think I’m ready to-”

Her knees buckled, and she lost her balance. Saoirse stumbled towards the edge of the ship, her back hitting the short wall that protected them from falling into the ocean. Saoirse yelped, feeling her body tip over the side, until she was forcefully yanked away. Her head pressed hard against Schlatt’s chest as he held her, his arms locked around her, almost squeezing her to death. She felt his heavy, rapid heartbeat in her ear. His large hands pressed against her back and her head. Willy had gotten up to help, but he was too slow. Schlatt had darted across the deck to grab her before she fell in the water.

“Saoirse, are-”

“That’s enough therapy for her today, William.”

Schlatt barked. Willy was quiet. Saoirse felt her hands grasping at his shirt, trembling in the cool morning air. She almost fell into the ocean. The cold, merciless ocean. Saoirse glanced over at Willy, watching him open his mouth to speak.

“...Johnny…”

He pressed his hand to his forehead, looking frustrated. Schlatt sighed, his arms relaxing slightly. He looked out at the water while bringing his hand from her hair down to her back to support her upright more.

“...Just be more careful next time, Monty.”

“Aye, cap’n.”

Saoirse felt the tension in the air. There were many times where it felt like Willy was the captain of this vessel, telling the crew what needed to be done on deck, giving Schlatt guidance on several different matters. However, she understood their dynamic. Schlatt was a leader. He took charge. He was the boss. Willy, on the other hand, his nature was too reserved to be a strong captain. He was thoughtful, Schlatt was reckless. Schlatt relied on Willy’s wit, while Willy relied on Schlatt’s strength. They worked well together. However, Willy was getting old. He slipped up occasionally, like now. He has too much faith in Saoirse to think she wouldn’t nearly tumble off the side of the Crimson Tide. She felt horrible now. She should have been more careful.

Saoirse pushed herself away from Schlatt slightly, looking up at him with a cautious expression.

“It’s my fault, Schlatt… I should have been stronger-”

“No.”

His voice was low. He looked at her with an expression she hadn’t ever seen before from him; it was unreadable. His eyebrows told her he was angry with the way they were tightly knit together, however his eyes said something else. They were fearful. Schlatt gently set her down in the rickety chair she had been sitting in before, leaning back against the side of the ship, crossing his arms in true Captain Schlatt fashion.

“Don’t apologize. No one needs to apologize. It was a mistake. We learn from our mistakes. What matters…”

He broke off, looking away momentarily. He took a deep breath, looking back at her with a softer expression.

“What matters, Saoirse, is that you’re okay. Everyone’s okay.”

His fists were balled tightly. He clearly was not okay. Willy swallowed thickly before clearing his throat.

“Erm, Saoirse, ye did excellent. Ye was standin’ fer a solid minute there, give ‘er take.”

“Yeah… it felt… it felt good…”

She was ecstatic about regaining her mobility again. She couldn’t wait to walk around on her own without worrying about having to rely on anyone. Although, she thought, I will miss the way he scoops me off my feet sometimes…

Saoirse scowled at herself. Why on earth would she think that…?

“Anyways,”

Willy continued, clapping his hands together. 

“Ireland, I have one more exercise fer ye. It’s-”

“William…”

Schlatt furrowed his brow.

“I thought I just said-”

“Johnny, yer gonna want to listen to me. Trust me.”

Schlatt bit his tongue unhappily.

“Like I said, one last exercise… It involves quite a bit of movement, but you’ll get plenty of help from yer partner.”

Schlatt opened his mouth again to protest, only to be met by a hand from Willy.

“Saoirse, have ye ever heard of Minuet?”

Schlatt’s eyes widened, and he let out a groan, tossing his head back. He placed his hands over his face while Willy laughed devilishly.

“Pardon me?”

“Red, don’t let him…”

“Oh, hush, boy. Minuet, dear, is a beautiful expression of dance between a handsome young man and a beautiful young lady.”

“...Okay…”

Saoirse looked over at Schlatt as he shook his head, staring at the ground. Willy stood and held his arms out, his toes pointed away from eachother. He pantomimed a minuet dance, placing one hand up with his palm facing outward, the other hand behind his back. He pointed his toes out in front of him, one by one, before spinning in a full circle around what looked like an invisible beam, all the while humming a tune to himself. Schlatt looked away in embarrassment while Saoirse grinned sweetly. She clapped when he bowed from his hips, stretching his arms out to the side, keeping his toes pointed out.

“Willy, I had no idea you were such a beautiful dancer!”

Schlatt began coughing hysterically, a small smile on his lips as he turned away. Willy grinned at Saoirse proudly.

“Thank you lass! Finally, someone appreciates my dancin’ fer once. I learned it during my stay in the palace. I was quite the handsome lad, ye see, and all the fair ladies wanted to dance with me at the galas, so-”

“Are we telling campfire stories again, Monty?”

Schlatt spoke between small gasps, still clearing his throat after nearly choking to death. Willy frowned at him, then turned to Saoirse with a small grin.

“Maybe I was bein’ a bit hyperbolic. Anyways, I’m goin’ to be teachin’ ye how to dance minuet, dear.”

“How exciting. But… I can barely stand on my own, and it looks like a lot of footwork…”

“Funny you say that, dear! I’ve already come up with a compromise. Ye see, Johnny here-”

“Nooooo!”

Schlatt stood, backing away quickly, hands up defensively.

“No, Willy, I refuse to do this ridiculous dance. Not ever again.”

“Yer practicin’ is goin’ to waste, boy!”

“I-I have never once practiced this dance, that’s a lie!”

Schlatt’s face was red hot, glancing between the two of them nervously, desperately asking Saoirse to help him with his eyes. Saoirse looked between the two of them, tapping her finger to her chin. Why… was Schlatt so nervous? Had he done this before? Was he embarrassed to show himself off to her? Saoirse didn’t know. However, she did know she would do anything to watch Schlatt point his toes and prance around like Willy did.

Saoirse looked back at Schlatt with a sad expression, her eyes big and wide, a frown appearing on her lips.

“Schlatt, I… I want to get better…”

Schlatt’s eyes widened as he realized what she was soing. She began to wipe her eyes with her fingers, feigning a sob.

“Willy says this will help me walk again, I…”

“No, no no no no, you can’t, Red. No, you can’t do this to me…”

Willy cackled while Saoirse let out a fake cry, giving Schlatt the largest puppy dog eyes in the world. Schlatt groaned.

“Oh blimey, you can’t make that face, darlin’...”

“I want to dance again, Johnathan…”

Saoirse watched Schlatt squirm while she used her hands to wipe fake tears. He eventually let out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his hands into the air.

“ALRIGHT, FINE! Fine, I’ll do it, for the love of God, wipe that look of yer face, Love… Christ, I’m dead…”

“Atta boy, Johnny. Come on, Saoirse, let me help ye up. This will be fun.”

—

Saoirse was beaming.

Willy adjusted their position, assuring her weight was being supported in Schlatt’s arm, before standing back and observing his work. He nodded, his finger tapping his lips, arm crossed over his chest.

“Yes, yes… does that feel good to you, Ireland?”

“Oh, I’m very comfortable. How about you, Captain?”

Schlatt clenched his jaw as he looked down at her. They were standing in the middle of the deck, her body pressed against his. He held her lower back in one arm, his other arm up with his palm facing away. Her palm laid flat against his, her arm on top of his other arm, her hand on his shoulder. Her feet rested on top of his. Schlatt exhaled through his nose, and she could have sworn she saw steam.

“Yes, Red. I’m fine.”

He spoke through gritted teeth. Saoirse smiled wickedly.

“Excellent. What now, Willy?”

“Right, so, the minuet is a very beautiful, very artistic dance, it involves a lot of precise movement and spinnin’ ‘round. Schlatt, because our fair lady cannot hold her weight up yet, you’ll be doin’ most of the work.”

“Lovely.”

“Saoirse, all ye need to do is keep yer back straight. The both of ye, eye contact is very important, so make sure yer lookin’ at eachother very much so. That kind of communication is very important in this kind of dancin’.”

Saoirse looked up at Schlatt, who stared down at her, his anger seemingly melting away. They stared at eachother wordlessly for a brief period of time, just observing the other person with interest… his scowl returned when Willy pulled a flute from his pocket.

“Haven’t used this piece o’ junk in months. Now then, let me just…”

He cleared his throat, then blew hard into the instrument, moving his fingers where the other tiny holes were. Saoirse cringed at the sharp noise, until Willy was ready.

“Alrighty, children, I’m ready. Schlatt, ye know what to do?”

“Yes, Monty…”

He groaned, his voice full of defeat. Saoirse was excited. Willy began to play a slow, happy tune on his flute, and the dancing began. Schlatt began stepping, slowly spinning his partner around. Saoirse couldn’t help but grin ear to ear at the utter torture he was experiencing. This kind of dancing was reserved for royals and the nobility, everything Captain Schlatt stood against. He had to move stiffly, methodically, he had to think about what to do next. This was everything Schlatt was not, and Saoirse was loving it.

Willy played on, much to Schlatt’s gentle begs of release, wanting to run away and hide forever while they danced. His crew watched from the sides, whistling and hollering, cheering him on as he spun her around some more. He did the opposite of what Willy asked, staring at everything but Saoirse’s eyes. She could tell the embarrassment was eating him alive. He couldn’t muster looking at her while he did this. She started to feel a little bad.

“Schlatt…”

Saoirse whispered into his ear. He looked down slightly, looking past her at the horizon. Saoirse smiled while leaning into his neck more.

“You… you’re so wonderful, Schlatt. You’ve kept me safe, n’ fed… we’re goin’ to my home… I’m so happy right now.”

He slowed his movements, before finally looking into her eyes. He looked surprised. Saoirse smiled genuinely up at him, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. Before he could do anything, she moved in one final time, planting a gentle kiss on his fuzzy cheek.

“Atta boy, Schlatt!”

“Reel ‘er in, Cap’n!”

His crew cheered on from the sidelines as Schlatt processed what just happened. Saoirse felt her cheeks get warm, watching the way his eyes lit up. He suddenly grew the biggest grin ever. Schlatt stopped moving, then turned to his boys, shouting loud.

“wwwwwwWWWWWWWeeeeeeeeeellllllll, it’s all for me grog…”

His men cheered, joining him in his slow shanty. Willy stopped playing, rolling his eyes at the sudden outburst from him, but allowing him to sing.

“Me jolly, jolly grog, it’s all for me beer and tobaccooooo…”

Schlatt looked down at Saoirse, smiling wide. Saoirse couldn’t help but return the look. He was… so remarkably adorable. He continued his slow spinning movements while the shanty drawled on. 

“Well I spent all me tin, on the lassies drinkin’ gin……”

Suddenly, he froze, then immediately broke out into a quick dance, spinning the both of them around fiercely.

“Far across the western ocean I must waaaanderrr!”

The once polite and slow dance had turned into an all out festival, Schlatt’s men pairing off and dancing with eachother happily. She heard cheering and hollering as all of the men sang proudly, giggling happily as Schlatt spun her around some more. He moved his hand to hold hers, gripping it tight as he dipped her. He sang with his men, but all of his attention was on her. He watched her reactions, ensuring she felt safe, ensuring she was happy. She was very, very happy.

The shanty lulled as the men tired themselves out. Schlatt breathed heavily, spinning Saoirse around still, but at a much slower pace. She had ended up with her arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her close to him. Soon he slowed into just stepping from side to side, humming gently, his hand reaching up to instinctively stroke her hair. Her head rested against his shoulder, her eyes closing. She felt safe. She felt relaxed. The feeling was new, but she welcomed it happily.

Schlatt allowed her feet to touch the ground slightly, keeping most of her weight in his arms still. He looked down at her with a hopeful look. Saoirse smiled back at him, her fingers in his hair.

“You’re remarkable.”

Schlatt murmured, his thumb on her back moving in slow circles. Saoirse smiled sheepishly. He looked to the side at his men as they went back to work, some still singing to themselves. He took a deep breath to collect himself, then looked back down at her.

“Are you alright?”

Saoirse nodded wordlessly.

“Well, I’m exhausted. I think Willy is, too…”

Willy leaned against the side of the ship, taking a long swig of rum from a bottle he had somehow procured from thin air. Saoirse giggled, looking back at Schlatt.

“I could use a nap.”

“Spectacular.”

He quickly lifted her again, carrying her off to his room. Schlatt laid her down, then flopped into bed beside her, laying on his back. He stared at the ceiling while Saoirse adjusted her position, sitting up in bed slightly. She just now realized how at ease she was, and it was all because of him. He had allowed her to let loose, to feel safe, for once in her life. Saoirse smiled to herself. She was starting to really get used to him. If this is how he treated his prisoners… she didn’t know if she wanted to leave.

Schlatt suddenly sat up, staring into her eyes with a soft, toothy grin. Saoirse gave him a confused look.

“...What’s-”

“You humiliated me today, darlin’.”

Saoirse raised an eyebrow.

“I believe it’s only fair I receive some form of compensation…”

“Okay… what exactly did you have in mind?”

Schlatt thought to himself for a moment.

“...Your cheek.”

“What?!”

“I’d like your cheek. I’d like to kiss it. Only fair, since you… kissed mine.”

Saoirse stared at him with wide eyes. Was he asking… to kiss her cheek? Saoirse turned her head to the side, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“...Yer losin’ it, Cap.”

“Happily.”

His lips planted themselves on her cheek. He made an obnoxious kissing noise as he did this. Saoirse squealed, cringing at the wet feeling of his mouth, giggling loud.

“Oh, yuck!”

Saoirse pushed him away, but he wasn’t done. He came in again, kissing her temple, making her shriek joyously. The two wrestled, Schlatt gently holding her down in his arms, planting kisses all over the side of her face. 

“Schlatt! No! Stop, it tickles!”

She giggled more, her legs weakly kicking. Schlatt sat up, laughing with her, looking down at her in bed. Saoirse’s giggles quieted down. She stared up at him wordlessly, her smile fading, her face growing hot. She stared at him with wide eyes. He was on top of her, his hands pinning her arms to either side of her head, bent by the elbows. She should be screaming right now, begging him to release her. She should be crying out for help. However… Saoirse felt none of that. Saoirse felt a completely different sensation.

Schlatt quickly got off of her, turning away, clearing his throat.

“...Saoirse… I didn’t-... I’m sor-”

“It’s okay…”

Saoirse sat up beside him, staring at the back of his head. He didn’t face her. She could tell he was terrified of what he had done. After everything she had been through, she knew he was afraid of sparking some repressed memories she had from those past situations. Schlatt rubbed the back of his head, letting out a nervous, shaky sigh, then got up from bed.

“...I’ll be on the deck if you need me. You should rest up now. I’ll lock the door for you.”

“Schlatt…”

He didn’t look at her as he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. She heard a soft click as he locked the door, then the sound of his heavy boots trudging away. Saoirse held her cheek where he had kissed her, then laid down, staring at the ceiling.

What in the world just happened…?

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 14: My Lullaby

songs: It Will Come Back - Hozier, Fil, Fil a Run Ó - Cara Dillon

Schlatt slammed the woman’s body into the wall, his lips feasting on her skin. Her fingers grasped at his hair, tugging harshly, making him groan into her skin. His lips returned to hers once again while he worked on removing her clothing. Why must women wear such intricate dresses…

Schlatt ripped the fabric into two before pulling away, taking a deep breath in as he observed the prostitute in his arms. She was…a woman, that was sure. However, she was merely that. Nothing more. Easy on the eyes, but nothing more. He had met her in Antigua after speaking to some pirate associates he had met while he was still a boy, however they weren’t much help in providing the kind of information he was looking for. After he had left the bar, he ran into this woman on the corner, dressed in nothing more than a thin coat. He remembered the way she pulled him aside, whispering an incredibly intriguing sentence into his ear. I have information on the man you’re after. He never thought her end of the bargain would include him sleeping with her. He thought that prostitutes weren’t too keen on the creatures they brought back to the brothel for a bit of cash. He wasn’t complaining, however. He was getting exactly what he was after. Schlatt looked into the wench’s eyes, his brow knit together.

“Alright… tell me more about this Reaver fella.”

“Mmh… you’re much more handsome when you don’t talk…”

The prostitute shoved Schlatt onto his bed, straddling his lap as he sighed frustratedly. He allowed the woman to slowly unbutton his top, raising his arms as she removed the tunic from his body. He had his fair share with plenty of other harlots in the past, however this one was extremely pushy. He knew he wasn’t too hard to look at, however, he didn’t realize he had this kind of effect on women. He sat up on his elbows, watching the way she teasingly removed his belt, reaching into his pants.

“I thought we had a deal.”

The woman didn’t respond, laying sweet kisses on his chest, trailing down his stomach. She removed his pants, taking his half-aroused manhood into her hands. The woman stared at him while moving her hand up and down.

“So large, Mr. Schlatt…”

Schlatt frowned.

“Who is Captain Reaver?”

The woman frowned, then sat up, climbing into his lap again. She kissed his lips sweetly, her tongue pressing against his. Schlatt made a gentle “mmph” sound as she did so, his hand going to the side of her head. Fine, so be it… He pushed her away slightly.

“Darling… I’ll let you have everything you want tonight… I just ask that you answer my questions, please…”

“Oh, captain, your begging is so arousing…”

Schlatt felt her hands stroking his member, adjusting it against herself. He let out a gruff sigh, before quickly grabbing her waist, flipping her over onto her back, him on top of her. The woman squeaked. Schlatt bit into her neck, a loud moan escaping from her lips, as his fingers worked their magic against her wetness. 

“I’d like to hear you beg.”

“Oh, Captain, please… take me, now…”

Schlatt pressed into her body further, his whisper raspy and dangerous.

“Who is Captain Reaver, my pet?”

“H-He is-...”

The woman cracked, spilling all of her secrets. Schlatt smiled devilishly, before sitting up, looking down at the mess in between her

“That's my good girl... So wet for me.”

Schlatt pressed into her, making her squeal. As she kept up her end of the bargain, so did Schlatt, although he only had one thing on his mind as he did so.

—

“I’m most excited to see my friends, I think.”

“Mm? I bet they’re wonderin’ where the hell ye been.”

Willy and Saoirse sat at the front of the ship, sharing a plate of salted cod and dried beans in the pale moonlight. They had left Antigua about a week now at this point, their food selection was becoming sparse. She didn’t mind much. Willy was a very resourceful cook.

“Well, love, I’m most excited to try yer ale. I’m expectin’ for the stuff to kill me.”

“Oh, it will, William. We don’t mess about.”

Willy chuckled, looking over at the other side of the ship, watching Schlatt’s crew turn in for the evening. He scanned over the men, watching a pair of them adjust the mast to better sail with the wind in the night. His eyes travelled up the mast to the very top, where his captain stood, solemnly observing the wide open ocean. Willy sighed to himself. He did this often when he was anxious. Something was most definitely occupying his mind, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what, or who, he was thinking of.

Saoirse caught his gaze, looking up at the lonesome man as he held onto the mast, lost in thought. She had grown quite fond of him during her stay aboard the Crimson Tide. Even though she had mostly pushed that traumatizing night from a week or two ago out of her memory, they never really spoke about her returning to the sick bay. Something told her Schlatt wouldn’t let her leave his bed. Saoirse didn’t know if she wanted to, either. Despite his rough and tough persona, Captain Schlatt was a gentleman, whether he would choose to believe it or not. He always said goodnight and good morning to her, made sure to give her breakfast, always asked if she had enough water before fetching some for himself, little things like that. He was respectful of her privacy, giving her enough time in the bathroom to wash herself. Saoirse’s resentment towards him had turned into light teasing. And she couldn’t forget the kisses he gave to her. She hadn’t ever felt the touch of a man in such a way. So… soft. Tender. Like he wasn’t trying to please himself, rather please her. She remembered the way he had loomed over her in bed, his hands pinning her own down beside her head. She had been in that position before, however, with him, she felt safe. Saoirse swallowed thickly. She had to get something off of her chest.

“Willy… you can keep a secret, right?”

Willy turned over to Saoirse, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Always, m’lady.”

Saoirse bit her lip, twirling her hair in her fingers. She looked back at Schlatt, watching him tentatively.

“...I think I’m growin’ very fond of that filthy pirate.”

Willy chuckled lightly.

“Why, that ain't no secret. I’ve known fer ages now.”

“I know, I just… I wanted to say it for myself.”

“I understand, Ireland… can you keep a secret?”

Saoirse turned to look over at Willy, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“You’re the only person I’d tell my secrets to, old man.”

Willy smiled warmly.

“I think that filthy pirate is very fond of ye, too. More than he’d like to admit, I’d figure.”

Willy lost his smile slightly, looking past her at the expansive ocean.

“He’s scared o’ losin’ ye.”

“He… what?”

“We’re goin’ to Ireland fer you. He told me that ye wanted to go home. He’s takin’ ye home. He’s settin’ ye free of us.”

Saoirse didn’t say anything, looking back at Schlatt. He’s… setting me free? Free of what? Saoirse hadn’t thought about it until now, but she hadn’t had nearly as much fun at home as she did here. The first week was utter hell, not knowing she was in safe hands here. She was still recovering from losing her father. But, as time went on, as Willy helped her recover, as Schlatt proved himself to her… She didn’t know if she even wanted to leave. She didn’t think she would be saying it until now, but she was growing extremely used to the pirate life. Especially with him in it.

Saoirse noticed Schlatt looking back at her. He crouched to his feet, reaching for a rope, then began descending down the mast, his feet crossed around the rope. He slid down to the deck, landing with a harsh thud. Saoirse gulped.

“You’ve been starin’ at me all evenin’ Red. What have I done now?”

Schlatt’s voice sounded hoarse. She could see how bloodshot his eyes were. Had he been crying? If he had, he put up a hard front for both of them just now. Saoirse bit her tongue, looking at Willy for help. Willy cleared his throat, standing slowly.

“Ahh, I better turn in fer the night. Gotta catch me beauty sleep, n’ whatnot…”

Willy grumbled incomprehensibly, waving the back of his hand at them as he hobbled by. The two of them were left alone in the night. Saoirse did everything she could to avoid looking at him, instead focusing her attention on the dirty fork she had in her hand. She stabbed at the dry fish, stirring it around in the beans, before feeling Schlatt plop down beside her. She caught her breath. They had been in a similar predicament before. She remembered that night all too well. Being given the luxury of cleansing her body in the safety of a man who wanted to do her no harm. They sat here, together, basking in the moonlight. Here they were again.

“Saoirse…”

Saoirse flinched a bit at his voice, sitting up straight, keeping her head turned away from him still. She felt his hand rest atop her own, his fingers ever so gently lacing between hers. She could hear his breath hitch as he let out a shaky sigh. Saoirse bit her tongue, allowing him to speak.

“...Could you do this poor man a favor?”

Oh. He had been crying. She could definitely hear it in the way his voice cracked. Saoirse swallowed the lump in her throat as she closed her eyes, then parted her lips to speak.

“...Anything.”

She felt something solid rest on her shoulder. His head rested against her while he lifted her hand closer to his body. His grip became tighter. 

He’s scared o’ losin ye.

“I… I believe you promised me a lullaby…”

She had. Saoirse turned slightly towards him, noticing the way his body had slightly curled into hers. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. 

“I can’t… I can’t go to sleep tonight without my lullaby…”

Schlatt brought her hand to his mouth. His dry lips ghosted her knuckles. He held it there. Saoirse felt her body begin to melt into the deck of the vessel. He was a broken man, and she was the glue needed to put him back together tonight. She wondered how often he would come to feel like this. She wondered how many sleepless nights he spent in his own solitude, afraid of the darkness inside of the night. From the pieces of his backstory she had collected from Willy… Johnathan Schlatt had no ordinary upbringing. He had known violence his whole life.

Her silence must have disturbed him. 

“Ah… Forget it… I-”

“No…”

Saoirse turned to Schlatt, taking her hand away from his lips. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she crossed her weak legs as best as she could, inviting him to rest his head here instead. He took her up on that offer. Without looking down at him, she ran her fingers over his forehead, tracing the bridge of his nose, his browline, until two fingers slipped under his bandana, sliding it off of his head in one soft movement. Her fingers cautiously ran through his hair, grazing his scalp. She melted upon hearing his relaxed, reluctant sigh. Saoirse kept her eyes closed as she faced the open sea, inhaling the salty sea air. 

“Fil, fil a rún ó…

Fil a rún ó is ná himigh uaim

Fillorm a chuisle's a stór…

Agus chifidh tú 'n ghlóir má fhillean tú…”

She sang gently, stroking his hair, embracing the peaceful darkness of the night. She would sing to him for as long as it would take for him to sleep soundly. As she finished the lullaby, she began again. And then again. And again… and again…

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 15: Ireland

songs: Learn Me Right - Birdy, Téir Abhaile Riu - Celtic Woman

5 weeks later…

“LAAAAND HOOOO!”

Saoirse gripped the side of the vessel excitedly, grinning wide as they neared her motherland. The skies were grey, the air was cold, the smell was bitter. This was definitely home.

Willy stood beside Saoirse with his arms crossed, whistling into the wind.

“Galway almost be more beautimous than Antigua I reckon’.”

“Hey! Ireland has its moments… We have a sunny day here and there…”

Willy grinned wide at her, before taking a swig of his rum.

Ireland was not a thriving country at the moment. It was merely a country with Britain’s iron fist ruling over the terrain. It was stricken with a fierce famine, unspeakable poverty, and dangerous crime, all thanks to Cromwell’s tyranny. There were many ports in Ireland that were infested with pirates, fortunately for them. Because the area was in such disarray, there was more legroom for shady business under the noses of the British Government. They decided on docking in Galway, then taking a land journey up north to Belfast, so Saoirse could return home, safe and sound.

The idea didn’t sound too good to her anymore. 

Schlatt’s crew was busy at work as they prepared for landing. Willy lazily pulled at a rope with one hand, the other tipping the rest of his bottle back into his gullet. Saoirse smiled, looking across the deck, until her eyes met his.

Schlatt stood at the quarterdeck, his hands firmly gripping the helm. He was dressed in his finest today, his long red coat and his pirate hat making him stand out among the crowd of his men. Saoirse giggled gently as he tipped his hat towards her. She waved her hand slightly, before turning to look back at the Irish coastline. The smile on her face was contagious. Their relationship had turned from something wicked, to something awkward, now to something warm and bubbly. They would steal glances at each other on the deck during the day, and spent all night telling stories to each other. They would practice sword fighting each other as a part of her movement therapy while she taught him how to speak Gaelic. He would braid her hair, and she would braid his. Things were…great. She wouldn’t change them for the world.

The boat docked finally. Schlatt’s men began descending the steep platform down to the cold port. Saoirse crossed her arms as she watched Willy drunkenly descend on his own, somehow not slipping off and falling into the freezing cold water. She had been able to walk across the deck now on her own for the past three days now, and she wanted to prove to both Willy and Schlatt she could descend the platform on her own. 

“I’m right here, Red.”

Schlatt murmured into her hair while placing a hand on her back, ready to catch in case she fell. Holding her arms out slightly, Saoirse began her journey, wobbling slightly. Schlatt’s hands brushed against her elbows, standing behind her, watching her every move. Eventually when she was close enough, she took quick, fast steps, stumbling onto the port haphazardly. Schlatt cursed under his breath.

“Christ, you terrify me, woman.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Saoirse was off, running directly into the port on her own.

“SAOIRSE! Wait! You’re not strong enough!”

Schlatt gave Willy an extremely concerned face.

“Fuck…Keep my men together, I need to catch that dotty girl.”

He darted off after her, slipping into the crowd of dock workers.

—

Saoirse breathed heavily as she entered the market square, ducking under a man carrying a large crate of fish over his shoulder. Her smile was wide. Here she stood, in the heart of Galway, among her people. She could hear the traditional Celtic music now, the fiddle ringing loud through the winding paths. The smell of traditional boxty frying on the griddle and coddle bubbling in the pan, made fresh from the nearby shop entrances. Children darting past shoppers, giggling excitedly, while shop vendors called out their wares in strictly Gaelic. It was everything she had hoped to return to, a bustling market square, full of life. This was Galway, her Galway.

“Saoirse, you madwoman!”

Schlatt pushed his way through the crowd to collect the breathless woman, quickly pulling her into his arms. He wordlessly looked around at the crowd, specifically at the men in red coats, wielding muskets, watching the people of Galway with stern faces. They eyed him suspiciously. Schlatt quickly whisked the two of them away into a quiet alley, plopping her down on an upside down empty crate. He bent on one knee in front of her, holding her shoulders, breathless from chasing after her.

“You are… an absolute… loon.”

Saoirse took deep, laborious breaths, sweat beading at her forehead. Her grin never went away.

“I’m home.”

Schlatt clenched his jaw. He dug around in his coat pocket, retrieving a white hanky. He pressed it gently to her hairline, collecting the beads of sweat that formed there. She noticed his face softening into a smile.

“...You’re home.”

Saoirse blinked, then leaned back against the wall behind her, fanning off her face with her hand. Schlatt furrowed his brow slightly.

“I need you to understand something very serious, darlin’.”

Saoirse looked down at him while continuing to catch her breath, clasping her hands in her lap as he wiped around her sideburns. He brought his voice to a murmur. 

“The King’s men aren’t too fond of the likes of me or my men. We need to keep a low profile while we’re here. I can’t have you runnin’ off like that while you’re with me.”

Saoirse frowned.

“Those lobsters hate everyone in this city, Schlatt. I don’t understand why they’d target you specifically.”

“Red, you’re a pirate now. You need to understand that any and all authority will find any reason to have you hangin’ from the gallows. Besides… I’ve done things you wouldn’t understand. Let’s just say they have a reason to be lookin’ for me.”

Schlatt gazed into her eyes as he shoved his hanky back into his pocket. She half-rolled her eyes at his vague answer.

“How mysterious.”

Schlatt smirked slightly at her comment, then looked down at her legs.

“Your pretty legs... You’d think you never were hurt the way you were runnin’, mm?”

Saoirse looked down at him as he wordlessly massaged her calves, his hands slowly gliding up her skin, until he met her knee under her skirt. His hand didn’t move further. Although she wouldn’t mind if it did… She blinked quickly, before clearing her throat.

“I was… always a fast runner…”

“Indeed… Hey, Saoirse?”

Saoirse raised her eyebrows. Schlatt gave her a gentle smile.

“Today will be fun.”

He looked hopeful. He looked determined. Saoirse smiled weakly, her face turning the same shade as her hair.

“We’ll do whatever you want while we’re here in your home, you got that? I’ll make it happen. You deserve it.”

Saoirse smiled bright.

“Aye aye, Cap’n Schlatt.”

Schlatt smiled back at her, then stood onto his feet.

“Y’know… I’ve been called captain for nearly 15 years now, Red…”

Schlatt took her hands into his own, pulling her onto her feet in front of him. His hand naturally went to hold the small of her back, although they both knew that it wasn’t quite necessary anymore.

“I think I’d like it if you just called me ‘Johnny’.”

Saoirse felt her heart throb. The look on his face made it hard for her to compose herself. He looked simply perfect.

“...Johnny…”

Schlatt smiled sweetly down at her, before tucking a hair behind her ear. This alleyway was so tight… so intimate…

“...Can ye stop callin’ me ‘Red’, Johnny?”

“Ahh, I’m afraid I can’t do that until you come up with a better name for me.”

Saoirse stared into his eyes, watching the way he smirked back wickedly.

“And , correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m startin’ to think you liked my little pet name-”

“Róisín.”

Schlatt raised his eyebrows at her. 

“...My dad used to call me that. You can also say Rosie...”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then nodded his head softly.

“Róisín. As in… little rose?”

Saoirse smiled proudly, nodding her head. His Gaelic lessons seemed to be working well. Schlatt looked behind her at the end of the alleyway, watching people pass by quickly.

“Alright, my Rosie. Tell me what you’d like to do first.”

—

Saoirse ran off in the direction of the music, before entering a large, open courtyard, a small band playing in the corner. Small groups of people were dancing together in the center, spinning around, kicking their feet. The girls tossed their long skirts around as the men danced their sean-nós dance. Saoirse felt her body bursting with excitement. She turned to look back at Schlatt as he walked briskly behind her, watching him push his large body into the crowd to be next to her. He looked madly uncomfortable. She loved it.

“And what in the devil are we doin’ here?”

“You know exactly why we’re here, Johnny.”

Schlatt narrowed his eyes at her, watching the way she restrained herself. She clapped her hands to the beat of the drum, softly dancing in one spot in the same way the other dancers did. She could hear Schlatt gasp quietly, understanding what she wanted to do. 

“Oh, no, darlin', you can’t- your legs-”

Immediately she jumped into the circle, dancing by herself, spinning around wildly to the sound of the music. She hadn’t felt such joy in what felt like centuries. With her legs mostly able to move again, she didn’t want to waste this opportunity. She had always loved dancing, anyways.

Saoirse picked up the sides of her long skirt and tossed it about like the other ladies did, swishing the fabric from side-to-side, kicking her feet in a step dance. She wasn’t any good at step dancing, but she felt obliged to try anyways. The music swelled, getting faster as she moved her body to keep up with the rhythmic beat of the bodhran and the bones. The crowd around her clapped their hands, stomping their feet against the cobbled streets, watching the dancers try to avoid her wild movements. She could hear whoops and hollers from the onlookers, and before she knew it, she was alone in the middle of the circle.

 Saoirse opened her eyes for a moment, still holding her skirt in both hands. She tossed it around while looking up at the sky, then back down, finding him in the crowd. His arms were crossed over his chest, his hat tucked under his arm. He leaned against the building next to him, one foot crossed over the other. His body language read that he was extremely annoyed with her. However, upon finding his eyes, she only saw amusement. He looked happy, watching the show before him with a light smirk across his face. It took everything in her to keep herself from running to him, taking his hands, and asking him to dance with her, but she knew he wanted to stay hidden. For now, she watched him bring his hands out in front of him, clapping his hands loud to the beat of the song, his other foot stomping the ground heavily in his work boot. Schlatt cheered her on from the side, looking incredibly pleased with how far along she had come with her injuries.

She felt her heart swell, a newfound burst of energy catching ahold of her body, allowing her to dance faster. And so she did. Saoirse danced fiercely until the end of the music, stumbling slightly as she finished her dance. The crowd cheered loud for her, making her smile only grow bigger. She caught Schlatt’s eye momentsrily, watching him clap for her, saying something she couldn’t hear from where she was. She spun slowly around to look at her audience, curtsying briskly until she felt her legs give out.

Almost immediately, Schlatt was there to help her up, pulling her into his arms like he always had.

“Alright, you jiggy belle, let’s get you out of here.”

—------

“I didn’t know you had that in you, Red.”

“Me neither. I just… I was so excited.”

Schlatt chuckled quietly as they sat together on the port, their legs dangling off of the docks into the mysterious black water below. The two of them spent their afternoon together bouncing around the markets, Saoirse’s eyes as big as the moon. Every so often a shiny object would stop her in her tracks, and Schlatt would have to haggle with the shopkeeper for a better price. He had managed to slip a few things into his pockets as they went along until he was starting to look suspicious. Willy had managed to moor the Crimson Tide, although they both knew he only put in just enough effort to get the job done fast. The knot was sloppy, but it would do. They had all disappeared into Galway to find their own kind of fun. Saoirse had a good idea where Willy had wandered off to.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to collect Willy from the side of the road after he inevitably gets kicked out of a pub for drinkin’ all their grog.”

Schlatt laughed again, his hands out behind himself to keep him upright. Saoirse looked back at him a little, smiling sweetly at his laugh.

“Ahhh… darlin’, you’re a jest.”

Their lighthearted banter went on for the next five minutes as they watched the sun set, the grey skies turning orange for just a brief moment. Saoirse smiled calmly while the cold breeze nipped at her skin. Involuntarily, she shivered, bringing her hands up to her arms to conserve her heat.

Schlatt must have caught her doing this from the corner of his eye. His hand went to rest on top of hers, his fingers wrapping around her own. He gave her a squeeze, making her look over at him. 

“Saoirse, do you trust me?”

Saoirse thought about it momentarily, then smiled weakly.

“Of course.”

Schlatt grabbed ahold of her waist, pulling her directly next to him. He pulled off one of the sleeves of his thick coat, then wrapped it over her shoulder, bringing his arm over her shoulders under his coat. The movement was quick, but Saoirse didn’t find herself suddenly afraid. It felt natural.

“Let’s go lookin’ for a coat for you tomorrow. And possibly some pretty new boots for those feet, hm?”

Schlatt spoke quieter now, his voice a low hum. Saoirse nodded silently. They sat together like this without saying a word to each other,  just listening to the distant sound of the bustling streets of Galway as they entered the night. Saoirse hadn’t realized until now how safe she felt with this pirate. Anytime he was near, anytime she could feel his touch, she felt the weight of everything being lifted off of her shoulders. In this moment, as his thumb rubbed her shoulder up and down, she truly felt at ease. Despite how cheeky he was, he was a very caring person. She thought back to what Willy said about how Schlatt cared for her more than he’d be able to admit. What did he mean by that?

Saoirse’s head involuntarily rolled to the side, resting against his chest. Her eyes closed, her ear pressed against him, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart. She felt Schlatt sigh heavily, pulling her in further, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently. Saoirse smiled to herself.

“As much as you drive me crazy, Johnny… you make me feel so happy.”

Schlatt was quiet.

“I haven’t had fun like we had today in… years… and you made it possible. I don’t think I can thank you enough-”

Schlatt leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, laying a kiss that warmed her whole body up. His other hand went to her chin, lightly lifting it so she could look up at him.

“You’re gonna break my poor heart, love. There’s nothin’ to be thankin’ me for. I just did what any man should have done for a pretty lady like yourself.”

He smiled warmly, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“Besides… It was my pleasure. It was also the most fun I’d have had in years. I’m glad I could share it with you.”

Saoirse’s eyelids fluttered as she looked into his handsome eyes, feeling herself sinking into his body further. She breathlessly nodded at his statement. His thumb trailed dangerously close to her lips, almost like he was trying to touch them, but his finger on her chin lowered, as did his thumb. Schlatt sighed softly through his nose as he looked down at her, then up at the setting sun. It had started to dip below the horizon.

“Let’s get you inside. I’d guess nights in these parts are frigid. I don’t want you gettin’ sick now.”

“Okay…”

Saoirse murmured wordlessly, still entranced as she looked up at him. Schlatt chuckled gently.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rosie. You’ve no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that.”

“You can tell me…”

Saoirse responded without missing a beat, sitting up slightly and giving him a coy smile. Schlatt shook his head.

“If I did that, I might just have my face clawed off.”

Schlatt didn’t wait for her retort, standing himself up and then immediately pulling her up by her hands. He placed his hands on her waist, then tossed her over his shoulder. Saoirse yelled, then began giggling loud, kicking her feet against him.

“Aaagh! You filthy pirate! Unhand me! I’m just a wee lass!”

“There’s nothin’ wee about you, girl.”

Schlatt placed his hand on top of her lower back, walking back towards the ship, much to her beating against his back with her fists. Her giggling rolled through the port, dock workers and pirates alike watching the tall captain carry his treasure aboard his ship. His smile was infectious. Anyone would assume the two of them were a happily married couple. Saoirse wouldn’t necessarily refute the claim.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 16: Ursa Major

songs: Constellations - The Oh Hellos, my angel - Adrienne Lenker

Saoirse stretched her body out in the large bed she had come to call her own aboard the Crimson Tide. It was warm, plush, better than anything she had ever slept in. It most certainly wasn’t purchased civilly. As she turned over to the man beside her, she smiled. Her little pickpocketer slept soundly, his arm over his eyes, wearing only a dark pair of trousers that rode dangerously low on his hips. His other arm stretched out over her head, his hand tangled in her hair. His legs spread out, one propped up slightly, the other resting under her own leg. Their sleeping positions had become much more cuddly as the days ticked on. She was shocked he hadn’t pulled her into a death grip while he slept.

Saoirse sat up, pulling his arm from his face, studying his features over once again. His thick bushy eyebrows furrowed in his slumber, his nose steadily inhaling, his lips parted slightly… Saoirse licked her own lips, before looking down at her fingers. She brought her pointer and middle fingers up to her mouth, placed a gentle kiss on them, then pressed her fingers gently to his bottom lips. He snorted in his sleep as she did this, making her giggle. Maybe someday she could share a real kiss with him. If he would allow it.

Schlatt choked, his eyes fluttering open, before he let out a sleepy groan, pulling his red bandana over his eyes. 

“Ughhh… mornin’ already… fuck that, I’m sleepin’ all day…”

“No, it’s time to wake up, sleepyhead. I wanna go into town!”

“Mmhm… just let me sleep longer…”

“No, we go now.”

Schlatt groaned as she tugged at his limp hand, then dropped it. She let out a small huffy sigh.

“Well, I guess I’ll just… go by myself…”

Schlatt suddenly brought his arm out, pulling her down in beside him, turning onto his left side as he snuggled her firmly into his chest. Saoirse squealed happily, grasping for anything to pull her out of his grip.

“Let go of me ye brute!”

“Mmmh… so warm… snuggle with me, pleeease…”

Schlatt nuzzled into her hair much to her clawing at his skin, until she groaned, finally relaxing beside him. Schlatt pressed his lips to her forehead, keeping his lips there. Saoirse rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Five more minutes, then we go.”

“Mmh…”

Schlatt murmured into her scalp, pulling her legs in with his own, completely wrapping himself around her. The two of them laid together wordlessly, listening to the gentle creak of the ship, until they found themselves both drifting off to sleep again, her lips nuzzled into his chest. He smelled surprisingly good for being a filthy pirate.

—

The two traversed the city once again, catching a late breakfast at a nearby market, before making their way through the city further, reaching a cobbler. He insisted on fitting her for a brand new pair of shoes, so they spent about an hour doing that. While she waited for her boots to be made, he had ran off, only returning a few minutes later with a very warm looking maroon cloak that he draped around her shoulders.

“It matched your hair, I think,”

He said while tying it onto her. He paid extra close attention to her while they navigated the thin alleyways, stuffing two pastries into their mouths quickly after Schlatt had swiped them off of a table. They came across another band of musicians, this one missing such a large crowd. She taught him how to dance like a proper Irishman, tapping his feet and kicking his legs. He wasn’t as flexible or coordinated as she hoped, but it was the thought that counted. As they made their way back towards the ship that evening, they ran into Willy after he had just emerged from a pub, thoroughly wasted.

“Ahh, my two lil’ lovebirds! How goes things n’ this nigh’?”

“Monty, you’ve proper lost yourself.”

Schlatt helped him as he stumbled across a cobblestone that stuck out of the ground at a weird angle.

“It’s good we found you, actually. Saoirse and I are making different plans. I’ll need you to man the vessel for a week or so.”

What? Saoirse quickly looked up at Schlatt, who avoided looking at her, keeping his eyes fixed on Willy as he regained his footing.

“Mm, what’s all this fer, Johnny? Ye runnin’ away with the lass finally?”

Schlatt grinned, glancing up at Saoirse finally. He spoke to Willy while keeping his eyes on her.

“We’ll be making a stop up north near Belfast. We need to visit a special place.”

“...Oh, Johnny!”

Saoirse gasped while placing her hands over her mouth, then threw herself at him, hugging him tight. He hugged her back with one arm, lifting her off the ground slightly. 

“It’ll be a long trip on horseback, but… we’ll be back soon. I wanted you to try to do some recruitment. We’re low on men since Fitzgerald’s ambush. Think you can do that, you old geezer?”

“Yeah, yeah, jus’ leave it ta ol’ Will’m Montoyah, son. Now if you’ll ‘scuse me, I got a lady a-waitin’ fer me by the docks, said she’d meet me there fer a few shillings… hehehe…”

He giggled drunkenly as he wandered off towards the port. Schlatt shook his head gently before finally releasing Saoirse.

“I wanted to surprise you, but we’ll be going back to your village…”

Schlatt smiled sadly at her as he held her loosely in his arms. Willy’s words flashed in her head again. She swallowed, not wanting to say anything to him about what Willy had told her.

“I… I’m excited to see my friends again…”

“I’m sure you are, Rosie. Come, I’ve purchased a horse for us. We’s better get going now before it gets too dark. We’ll stop at any inns we find.”

Saoirse nodded, allowing him to lead her off into the village again. She could tell that this was eating him alive inside. It was killing her, too. Did she want to leave this life behind and return home to take over her father’s legacy, in the safety of her own motherland? Did she want to disappear on the oceans with a group of men she still didn’t fully trust, thrusting herself into a life of unknown danger?

The former started to sound better to her.

—

3 Days Later…

“My legs are killin’ me, Johnny, please…”

“Just a few more minutes, Rosie, just hang on tight for me, love.”

The horse trotted across the dirt path towards the faint light in the darkness. They had been travelling for nearly six hours now, only halfway to their destination at this point. Saoirse groaned weakly, her forehead pressed against his back, trying to ignore the pain shooting up her spine. Sitting on a horse for long durations wasn’t doing her healing limbs any favors. The sooner she got off the stallion, the better. 

“Ho, easy, boy...”

Schlatt spoke low, pulling at the reigns of the horse to slow it down. He made two clicking sounds with his teeth to direct the animal into a small stable. Schlatt slid off, then helped to pull Saoirse off. She weakly placed her feet on the ground, nodding gently, wordlessly letting him know she could walk.

“We’ll stay here tonight. They must have some room for us.”

Schlatt led her inside towards the front. The deeper they travelled into the Irish countryside, the more sparse English became, so Schlatt frustratedly let Saoirse speak to the elderly woman behind the counter. They exchanged words in their ancient tongue, before being guided up a set of stairs and into a small room, lit by a single candle. The bed was small, but manageable. As the elderly woman left them to it, Saoirse immediately flopped down, kicking her boots off of her feet lazily.

“I can’t ride that horse any longer, Schlatt… we should turn around-”

“We’re more than halfway there, Saoirse. We can make it. Just put on a brave face for me.”

Saoirse groaned, rolling to her side. She was utterly exhausted. She listened as Schlatt shrugged off his coat behind her. The bed sunk behind her as he sat to remove his own boots. This felt natural. Being in a cramped room like this together. It reminded her of his captain’s quarters. Saoirse sat up, then looked out towards their tiny window. She stood, walking over to watch the sky. She had always gone stargazing with her father when she was little. He would point out different constellations and tell her what each one meant. She sighed, placing her elbows on the sill, resting her chin against her folded arms. It was quiet behind her, until she felt warmth against her back.

“Ursa Major. Right here…”

Schlatt leaned in and pointed his finger towards the sky. Saoirse followed his finger, before nodding gently.

“She’s beautiful, the sky… I love to watch her when I can’t sleep.”

“Me too…”

Saoirse felt his hand gently rest against her waist, his other hand going to rest on her own. She didn’t move. He didn’t either. The sat there, staring at the sky together, until a small bolt of light cut across the sky. Saoirse sat up.

“A comet…”

Schlatt didn’t respond. Saoirse closed her eyes.

“You gotta make a wish now, Johnny… comets make all your dreams come true.”

Saoirse squeezed her eyes shut as she thought. I wish… I wish to live a happy life. She opened her eyes to look back out at the starry night. Schlatt was dead silent, his chin resting on top of her head. She felt him angle his head down slightly so his lips could plant on the back of her head, in her thick hair. His hands had wrapped around her, gently holding her below her navel.

Saoirse turned her body towards him, looking up at him as he stared back down at her. He looked…content, yet nervous. His hands went to rest on her waist again. He looked into her eyes warily.

“...Can I…”

Saoirse blinked, then looked down at his hands. She placed her own on top of his, then looked back up at him, nodding. Schlatt pulled her closer to him, placing his hands on her back, like he always had. Yet this time it felt completely different. It was intimate. Warm. It was lovingly.

Saoirse couldn’t read him. She couldn’t see him all that well either. However, she knew one thing. Her hands slid up his arms, catching on the sleeves of his shirt, before they slid up to his neck, her fingers brushing against his jawline and the back of his head. She could feel him suck in a breath as she did this. His jaw clenched.

“...Darlin’...”

He spoke in a deep, quiet voice. She could feel him hesitate.

“...Fuckin’ hell, I’m dreamin’-”

She pressed her lips against his haphazardly, making him let out a soft mph, but it was quickly returned. Their kiss was soft, sweet, gentle. His hand grazed up her back, running through her tangled tresses until he found the back of her head. He sighed heavily into her as if some sort of built up pressure inside of him had been released, his eyebrows knit together as he kissed her with a passion she had never seen from him before. She melted into him, a gentle mewl escaping from her, causing him to respond with a very gentle groan. He leaned into her, his back hunched, hers curled to look up at him. Their kiss deepened slightly, her tongue licking at his lips, desperately trying to feel his own. Saoirse pushed him, making him fall back onto the bed.

“Hon-”

Their lips parted beiefly, however Saoirse returned with a hunger, her wet lips against his own again. She dug her nails into his scalp as she climbed onto his lap, making him groan again, however she could feel his hesitation. He kissed her bottom lip, then the side of her mouth, then her cheek, then pushed her away, his hand gently gripping her shoulder.

“...Johnny…”

Saoirse whined, tugging at his shirt collar. She could hear him curse under his breath.

“My love, fuck, I… you’re tired, you need rest-”

“Please…”

Saoirse leaned down again, his restraint weak, kissing below his ear, down his neck. She felt how tight he was clenching his jaw. Schlatt was frozen solid. She played with his top, pulling it loose from being tucked in his waistband, her hands running up the skin on his chest, pulling his shirt up with one swift movement. He remained still.

“Fuck me, Johnathan…”

“Oh Christ…”

Schlatt groaned, his forehead slick with sweat. He was bursting at the seams, holding himself back from her, she could see it in the dim moonlight. Fine, so be it. Saoirse sat up, swiftly pulling her dress off of her body, sitting on him completely nude. His eyes widened at the sight, and he went to speak. She leaned down again to kiss him, however, his palm quickly pressed against her lips, preventing her from touching him.

“Saoirse! Saoirse, I… I can’t do this to you…”

Saoirse blinked, silent. He wasn’t looking at her.

“...You… you deserve… so much more than to be… than to be had in this little room…”

He gestured with his other hand to the old bed where he laid. Saoirse swallowed, slowly pulling away from him, her entire body shivering from the cold. Schlatt sat up, placing his hands nervously on her thighs, keeping his eyes anywhere but her. She let out a desperate sigh.

“...You’re everything I want right now, Johnny...”

The darkness of the room hid him from her, except the sharp contours of the side of his face, and his hand. She heard him sigh slowly, deeply, then a soft gulp. 

“...I know, my angel, and by god, the things I want to do to you… but… I can’t, not yet, Saoirse… not in this room, not in a bed that isn’t ours…”

Schlatt traced his fingers over her shoulder, running up her collarbone, her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw, until there was nothing more to touch.

“Honey… I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of experiencing real love making the way you would like to, and… that can’t happen here. You deserve to feel like a woman… and I have every intention of makin’ sure you feel every inch of my love… but… now just isn’t the time…”

He pulled her in gently, laying a very gentle kiss on her shoulder, trailing up to her cheek. 

“Trust me when I say this, my Rosie… You’re everythin’ I want right now, too. Everythin’ I’ve wanted for a long, long time…”

Schlatt placed his hands back on her thighs, holding her against him as he stood up. Carefully he laid her down on the bed, kisses trailing from her forehead down to her cheek, before sitting up. She hoped momentarily that he changed his mind, as he stared at her nudity, however she watched him reach beside her head and pull the thick wool blanket over her body, up to her chin. The weight of the blanket added another layer of exhaustion. Saoirse watched him walk away and lean against the windowsill, his back to her. The room went silent once again, as she drifted off into sleep, leaving him alone with his own wild thoughts.

Chapter Text

songs: Walking in the Air - Mimicking Birds, Son of Nyx - Hozier

The wind cut like glass against her pale skin.

They had been slowly climbing a small mountain range on horseback, their once chatty and lively conversations dissipating after what had happened a few nights ago. Things between them were different. It was safe to say things were incredibly awkward between them. Saoirse, for one, felt like a giant harlot. Throwing herself at him like that despite the fact he clearly wasn’t following her advances… she wondered why he hadn’t left her there and gone back to Galway. However, that moment was electric. She felt alive against his bare skin. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it one bit. And judging by the way he behaved around her now, neither had he. Despite it all, they were still together, making their way to her home, where she might never see him again.

“Let’s stop here. Poor horse’s exhausted.”

Schlatt suddenly spoke up, turning his head to look behind his shoulder slightly. Saoirse sat up from resting her head on his back, nodding silently. As Schlatt directed their steed towards a shady mountain valley, Saoirse spotted a small river nearby. She could do for a bath. It would be cold, but she felt like death. It would be nice to get some alone time as well.

Saoirse slid off of the back of their horse, gently holding Schlatt’s hand as he helped her down. She didn’t look into his eyes, instead releasing the grip she had on him, taking a few steps away.

“I’m going to… take a bath…”

Saoirse mumbled, walking away towards the river. Schlatt didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure if he had even heard her. As she sat down by the river bank, she began untying her boots, shrugging off her cloak and the layers she had on underneath, until she was nude. She sank into the water, her teeth chattering, her body riddled in goosebumps. She needed this. She desperately needed this. She looked back slightly, expecting to see him there, watching her, like he always had, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Saoirse sighed through her nose, looking down at the clear rushing water, her feet sinking into the muddy floor below. 

He kissed me back.

Saoirse chewed on her lip while settling into a sitting position near the river bank, digging her fingers into the muddy pebbles underneath her. He kissed me back, and he said he wanted to… Why couldn’t he just have sex with her right then and there? Why was he holding back on her like that? Was he just lying to her? That could very well be the answer to that, as much as she didn’t like to think about the thought of him detesting her like that. Was my breath putrid? Did I say something off? Do I have a weird mole? 

“You’re crazy.”

Saoirse jumped, looking behind her. Schlatt stood a few feet away from the river bed, arms crossed. He shook his head.

“I thought you ran away.”

“No, I… just wanted to bathe…”

“Aye. I’d do the same, but you look like you’re about to freeze to death. Your lips are purple.”

Saoirse brought her fingers up to touch her lips, looking away from him briefly.

“I did this all the time as a girl, I guess I’m just used to it…”

“Makes sense.”

Silence. Saoirse exhaled slowly, hugging herself in the water, hoping he would go away. However, she heard a small cough from behind her.

“Um, Saoirse… I want to talk-”

“Oh, Johnny! I’m so, so sorry, I truly don’t know what came over me-”

“Rosie-”

“I-I think I was just exhausted from the journey, I’ve never really ridden on horseback before-”

“Darlin’-”

“I just- I guess I just read the situation wrong-”

“SAOIRSE!”

Saoirse pressed her lips together quickly, eyes wide with fear. Schlatt held his palms up, eyebrows raised.

“Saoirse… don’t apologize, honey. It was just… we were in the heat of the moment. A man and a woman alone in a room together…”

He brought his hands into his pockets, looking down at his feet.

“I… I take no offense. Seems our bodies naturally did what we were both thinkin’, or somethin’ or other…”

His voice trailed off as he dug the toe of his boot into the cold hard mud. Silence overtook the both of them for what felt like an entire century, until Schlatt let out a loud sigh.

“Alright, let’s get you out of there, girl. You’re turnin’ blue.”

“Right…”

Saoirse murmured to herself. As she stood, Schlatt reached for the ground beside his feet, lifting up her cloak. He took her hand while she climbed out of the water, then wrapped her cloak around her body tight. Her teeth chattered.

“You poor thing. Come here, I know how to warm you up.”

Schlatt wrapped his arms around her, sighing heavily into her hair. She felt his lips faintly pucker as he laid a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t think about things too hard, Rosie. We’ll be alright. Let’s get you home, now, I’m sure your friends are dyin’ to see ya. Let’s get goin’ to Lisburn… that’s what your home is called, right? Lisburn…”

—

“Is Ireland usually this foggy?”

Schlatt’s voice carried over his shoulder, the horse’s hooves squishing against the cold mud.

“Usually during the colder seasons…”

The fog had been trailing them for miles, but it was different now, almost tangible, pressing in on all sides. Saoirse tightened her cloak around her shoulders, shivering as the wind sliced through her. They weren’t far from home now. Any moment, they would ride over the last hill and see the glow of her village, hear the voices of her people.

“Interesting…”

Schlatt sniffed the air before immediately recoiling, scrunching his nose.

“What in the hell died here?"

Saoirse soon picked up the scent as well, her heart skipping a beat. The smell was thick, putrid, acrid. It was a smell that triggered a memory from her distant past, after her father’s flock of sheep were attacked and mauled one night by a pack of wolves. This was certainly the smell of death. It coated her lungs, making her shiver.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

She had no idea why the area smelled so horribly. There was no way the people of her village went out on a hunt and massacred an entire colony of animals, no. No, they never did that. Saoirse coughed, squinting her eyes as they trekked on. The fog was almost black now. Could fog get that dark? Why did she feel so ill? Why did everything seem so off?

“What the hell…”

Schlatt muttered to himself before clicking his teeth, bringing their steed to a stop. He could sense the uncomfortable feeling in the air as well.

“Saoirse, darlin’, this is smoke.”

He was right. This cloud of black that felt almost too thick to travel through wasn’t fog. It was smoke from a fire.

And there was a lot of smoke.

Saoirse pushed herself off of the horse, falling into the mud, before running off into the wilderness. She could hear Schlatt calling her name, but the sound of his voice dissipated as she sprinted through the bog. This was home. This was home. Saoirse didn’t like this at all. There was no reason for there to be this much smoke, unless they were burning a field to destroy the crops. Saoirse’s heart pounded, her legs carrying her through the thick grass and the dense mud. She ran like hell, her legs screaming in agony as she threw her weight on them. Her feet pounded against the cracked earth. She waited for the silence to disappear. She waited to hear the sound of children laughing, the sound of bagpipes singing, the sound of her people welcoming little Saoirse back home. The closer she got, the heavier the silence grew.

She came to a slow stop as she stepped into the cold, gritty mud, her barefoot feet numb to the sensation. 

Before her lay the remnants of Lisburn.

Homes had been reduced to rubble and ash, their thatched roofs caved in and smoldering, the air thick with the putrid stench of burning wood and flesh. Smoke curled upward, rising into a sky that seemed unnaturally dark for morning. The muddied streets, once bustling with life, were now eerily silent, littered with shattered pottery, broken tools, and the remnants of lives extinguished too soon.

The torches that once lined the village pathways had gone out, their blackened staves toppled to the ground, leaving behind streaks of soot. Pools of blood marked the ground and splattered across every surface, doorframes, fences, and even the dirt paths had been dried to a sickening brown that clung to the eye, refusing to be ignored.

A small hand jutted out from beneath a blackened wooden beam. The fingers, delicate and coated in blood, were frozen mid-reach, as if pleading for salvation. They stretched out toward the empty air, seeking anyone, anything that might pull them from the wreckage. But no one came. The rest of the child’s body was hidden beneath the charred debris, swallowed by the ruin.

And then, she saw them. 

The pikes.

Rows of fifty or so neatly organized wooden pikes stood near the river, each adorned with a decapitated head of a person she once knew. An elderly man, a young boy, a young mother. These were people. These were humans. Now, they were a message. Your kind is not welcome here. 

A small pike stood in the middle, a dried piece of parchment nailed towards the top. The wind blew the paper wickedly, the edges snapping like a whip in the breeze.

“Order of the Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell

Let this stand as a warning to all who would defy the will of God and the authority of England.

Rebellion is sin, and sin is punished by fire and sword.

Your priests cannot save you. Your kings cannot save you.

Defy us again, and the fate of this village shall be yours.

The wicked are ashes beneath the righteous feet of the chosen.

Submit, or be erased.

In His Name and by His Power,

Oliver Cromwell’s Army of God”

Saoirse’s legs gave out here, her knees falling into the cold mud, her eyes wide and dry. The tears that creeped from her eyes were immediately dried to her skin from the bitter wind that pierced her body. She felt hollow. She was a husk. She couldn’t ever have anything good in her life, it seemed. Her mother, whom she was told was a woman of integrity, a woman who died smiling when holding her newborn baby girl. This was the first of many people she would lose in life. Next, her dear father, the man that raised her on his own, her protector, her rock, her anchor. The man that brushed her hair every night by the always lit fireplace, ensuring her belly was always full, her bed was always warm, her days were always sunny. And then he was gone too, taken by vicious pirates in an act of senseless violence. And now this. The last standing thread of her life, her existence, who she was, raped and pillaged for daring to stand against him. Lisburn, a peaceful village full of people who had Irish roots dating back to far before his majesty’s kingdom had ever even been an idea. Why would anyone think to bring such violence to a village that wished to live in peace, tucked away in the Irish valley? It was all a sick game to him. He hunted for sport. For his ego. Cromwell had left his mark. A scorched earth message against those who dared to resist. Her people had paid the price. Saoirse was a witness.

Submit, or be erased.

“Saoirse! Saoirse, where are you? Saoirse! Sao… Saoirse… Oh…”

The sound of heavy footsteps came to a slow hault. Schlatt breathed heavily in silence, before he spoke again.

“God Almighty…”

Saoirse felt the air return to her lungs momentarily. For the brief moment she could breathe, she screamed. She bellowed in agony, her cry echoing through the valley. She screamed until her body couldn’t anymore. She screamed until the birds flew away in the distance. She screamed until she brought her people back to life. Saoirse screamed to let the universe know of her pain. She screamed until she couldn’t anymore.

Schlatt’s footsteps came closer. She could hear his heavy breathing much clearer.

“Oh, my Saoirse… what… what have they done…”

He knelt down behind her, his hand gently, softly, going to her shoulder. She felt Schlatt pull her body towards him, pulling her head into his chest, protectively wrapping his arms around her entire body. He breathed raggedly, burying her face into his shoulder. He murmured brokenly into her ear, rocking her body back and forth in his arms. He held her tighter than he had ever before. Schlatt pulled her away slightly, taking in a deep breath, looking down at her hollow face. He placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head to look up at him.

“My love…”

He whispered, his thumb rubbing her cheek up and down.

“I… I am… so, sorry, my love…”

Schlatt spoke to her in a low, gentle voice, however Saoirse couldn’t process the things he was saying to her. He sounded distant, muffled, as she stared at the sky behind him. She truly had nothing more to live for. Every fiber of her being had been ripped apart, stomped upon, lit on fire, chewed up and swallowed. Her breathing slowed, her eyes rolled back into her head, the stench of the corpses and the sight of the undead being so shamelessly and violently displayed in front of the two of them finally getting to her. 

“Saoirse…”

Schlatt’s voice became even more distant as she slipped away.

“Saoirse…”

“Please, Sao…”

“Sao…”

“sao…”

Chapter Text

songs: labour - paris paloma

“Shhh… shhhhhh…”

“Hush, baby…”

“Hush for mommy…”

The young woman rocked the fussy child in her arms, sitting on the floor of the cold cellar room. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to be outside of the king’s chambers this late at night, when he expected her to be lying nude in his bed. She didn’t want to live this life anymore. She couldn’t be his majesty’s mistress anymore.

The young mother swallowed thick. The castle was suffocating. Even in the cold of night, the air inside felt damp, pressing in on her like the king’s hands, like the weight of his voice when he commanded her to his bed. She held the baby against her bosom, whispering soothing nonsense as she slid on the ground toward the large double doors. His little cries were fading into small, hiccuping breaths, but he was still restless, still afraid. She couldn’t be here when morning came. She couldn’t let her son grow up knowing only this gilded prison, a bastard prince at the mercy of a father who would never love him, only claim him when it suited his power.

A bitter taste rose in her throat. The king had never been cruel, at least not in the ways men were known to be. He did not strike her, did not scream vitriolic acid into her face. But he did not have to. His power was its own kind of violence, one that had stolen her name, her freedom, her body. The young mother cracked open the cellar door, peering out into the corridor. The torchlight flickered along the stone walls, casting long, stretching shadows. The castle slept, but not for long. She stepped forward, the rush of blood in her ears drowning out the scrape of her cold, bare feet against the floor.

“Where are you going?”

She stiffened.

The words were whispered but unmistakably real. She turned sharply, her heart lurching into her throat.

A figure stood at the end of the hall, barely illuminated by the dim torchlight.

It was a girl.

“Anne?” 

The young maid stepped forward, her brows knitted in confusion. 

“What are you—” 

Her eyes dropped to the bundle in Anne’s arms, realization dawning in an instant.

 “Anne...”

Anne’s grip tightened around her son. 

“Please,” 

She whispered. 

“Let me pass.”

The maid hesitated, the torches lining the walls flickering shadows across the girl’s soft features.

“The guards—”

“I know where they are Mary.” 

Her voice, though low, shook, but her hands did not. 

“I know when they change shifts. I know the halls they don’t patrol. I need to go now.”

The maid swallowed. 

“He’ll come after you.”

“I know.”

They stood there, the silence between them heavy. Anne could hear her own breath, ragged and shallow, the baby’s soft whimpers against her chest. Finally, the maid exhaled, glancing over her shoulder. 

“The kitchen doors are unbolted, Margery left them open to air out the smoke from the hearth.”

“Thank you.”

The maid stepped back, pressing herself into the shadows. 

“Go, before I change my mind.”

Anne didn’t waste another second.

She moved through the halls like a ghost, slipping past the dimly lit corridors, past the silent, sleeping bodies of the castle’s servants. She held her baby close, willing him to stay asleep, to keep still. The kitchen was empty, save for the lingering scent of burnt bread and old grease. The door was just as the maid had said, unbolted, cracked open to the cold night. Anne hesitated for only a moment. Then, she stepped outside.

The cold bit at her skin immediately, slicing through the thin fabric of her dress. But she did not stop. She could not. The stables were close. If she could steal a horse…

A voice shattered the silence behind her.

“HALT!”

Her blood turned to ice. within a moment’s notice, she ran. She ran like her life depended on it, because it did. The baby stirred against her, woken by the sudden jolt, his cries breaking through the night like a bad omen. The guards were shouting now, their voices tangled in the wind, but she did not stop. She reached the stables, throwing herself inside, her breath ragged, wild.

A horse. She needed a horse.

She fumbled with the reins of the nearest steed, her frozen, trembling fingers barely able to work the leather straps. The beast whinnied, shifting uneasily, but Anne pulled herself into the saddle, cradling her son against her chest. The guard’s footsteps pounded against the frozen ground. Anne kicked her heels into the horse’s sides.

And then, she was flying into the night.

The castle, the torches, the shouting, it had all fallen away behind her, swallowed by the darkness of the countryside. The cold wind burned her cheeks, but she welcomed the pain. It meant she was alive. She clutched her son close, pressing a fierce kiss to his temple.

“We’re free,” she whispered.

“Johnathan, we’re free…”

Chapter Text

songs: Tom Odell - Another Love

The smooth stones rolled around eachother slowly in the palm of his hand. He pushed them around with his thumb, focusing on how they reflected the moonlight above him. It was early in the morning as he sat on the quarter deck of the Crimson Tide. Schlatt hadn’t slept a wink ever since he returned to his ship, Saoirse in tow. He wouldn’t ever forget the sound of her screams as he happened upon the ungodly scene. Her face, hollow and pale. He remembered carrying her all the way back to Galway on horseback, the journey being tiresome. She had come to sometime during their way back, however she was a husk. She didn’t speak. She didn’t eat. She barely drank any water. Schlatt couldn’t live seeing her like that. However, he couldn’t leave her alone.

He spent the entire day and night with her as they set sail again. William had made true to his promise to recruit some others aboard, he had even made an effort to seek out another woman, however those types were rare. Surprisingly, he had found a younger woman looking to escape the city in search for a new life away from her estranged husband and seven children. Schlatt briefly met her before shutting everyone out of his quarters for the day, instead spooning Saoirse’s limp body in his own. He only left her when she had fallen asleep again.

Schlatt stared at the stones in his palm. His hand was shaking. He was exhausted, yet the thought of falling asleep only to suffer from yet another horrific nightmare kept him up. Originally he had been sailing the ocean in search for the monster that murdered his mother, the monster that left the scars in the palm of his hand, faded away from years of trauma. He had heard through unreliable narrators that the man he was looking for went by a Captain Reaver, so he was blindly following a lead he had no clue even existed to begin with. However, after the events over the past two days, his priorities changed fully. He cursed to himself, then stood, chucking the rocks into the vast ocean with a disgruntled yell. He ran his hands through his hair, placing his palms on the top of his head as he thought of what he could possibly do to make Saoirse feel whole again. This Cromwell figure was at the top of his hit list now. He had no idea where to even begin with this person. He wasn’t thinking rationally about it right now.

I’ll have him hanged.

Saoirse had suffered so much unspeakable loss. 

I’ll tear him limb from limb.

She didn’t deserve this.

I’ll gut him like a fish.

Schlatt grit his teeth. He would have that Oliver Cromwell scalped alive and made into a rug for her to walk upon.

“Mister Schlatt?”

Schlatt spun around quickly upon hearing the feminine voice, the thick Irish accent shocking him to his core. That accent had only belonged to Saoirse for the past few months, but now he had two Irish women to look after. This one had dark brown hair that she braided down her back, a rounder, fuller figure, and deep brown eyes. She was around his age, however the years of motherhood took a toll on her. She awkwardly stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the quarter deck. Schlatt began descending the stairs to speak with her.

“Captain Schlatt is fine, Miss Keira.”

“Right, apologies.”

Schlatt watched her as she looked towards his quarters.

“Forgive me for pryin’, but… I overheard what you n’ Willy was talkin’ about earlier… my family suffered a great loss from Cromwell, too.”

Schlatt stared at her blankly, his furrowed expression easing.

“It was years ago. I was still a girl. He weren’t as cruel then, but I was forced to leave anyways. I watched the house I grew up in burn. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your, well, her loss, sir.”

Schlatt blinked gently, before placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Keira.”

“Thank you, Cap’n. Anythin’ I can do for the girl, just holler.”

Keira took Schlatt’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. He watched her as she looked down at his hand, an idea forming in his head.

“Would you happen to know anything about that… man?”

“Cromwell? Um, well, no…”

“Right. Forget it, I-”

“Johnathan!”

Schlatt turned quickly towards the sound of Willy’s voice, not sparing a single moment to rush into his quarters.

“She’s alright, she had a small accident-”

“Where is she?”

Schlatt swung his bed chamber door open, looking around frantically, noticing vomit on his blanket as well as on the floor. Willy motioned towards his bathroom.

“Drew her a bath, she… she asked for you.”

Schlatt swallowed, wordlessly making his way to the bathroom. He very gently knocked.

“...Rosie?”

No response. Schlatt cracked open the door, looking inside. She sat facing away from him, the bath water steaming, lapping around her chest. Schlatt slowly made his way inside, then closed the door.

“Honey…”

Schlatt didn’t know how to approach her here. He didn’t want to frighten her, do anything to trigger an unwanted reaction, or do anything to make her relive that day. As far as he was aware, this girl was made to feel like a wild deer. He approached, making his footsteps audible, then slowly crouched down beside her. Her mouth was stained from her own vomit, her eyes were bloodshot. She had lost so much weight already. Schlatt exhaled shakily, placing a hand on the side of the tub.

“Hey… I’m here, love…”

Her eyes blinked slowly. She stared out in front of her. Schlatt cautiously reached up, brushing her hair out of her face, then cupped some water in his hand. He brought it up to her face, allowing the hot water to cleanse her mouth. She didn’t move. Schlatt cleared his throat, then leaned in to allow her to hear him better.

“I’d like to bathe you, I think it would help you feel better…”

Saoirse blinked again. Her eyes flickered over towards him. Schlatt didn’t move.

“However… I won’t do anything without a solid ‘yes’, Rosie.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to rebuild this woman’s confidence. She had every single thing taken from her without her consent, he had to somehow rebuild her relationship with allowing herself to have a choice in the things that happened to her from now on. Saoirse glanced back over at him, then turned her head towards him slightly.

“...Yes…”

“Atta girl…”

Schlatt rose, then stepped behind her, thinking about how he wanted to do this. He could just use his hands like he had before. Yet something told him he needed to do more. She looked so crushed. Schlatt frowned.

“...Saoirse, I think I’d be able to… well, I think it would be easiest if I…”

Damnit. Just say it, you idiot.

He licked his lips.

“Rosie… would you like it if I joined you?”

Silence.

“It’s entirely alright to deny it, but I need a yes or a no, darlin’...”

“Yes…”

She murmured again. His heart skipped a beat.

“Alright…”

Schlatt looked down at himself, then began undressing. She didn’t move the entire time. As he finally stood naked behind her, he froze. How should he do this? Would it be traumatizing to approach her from the front, so she could see all of him? As far as he knew, she had only ever seen male genitalia in a setting that was against her will. Maybe he could do this a different way. Schlatt placed his hand on the back of her head.

“Alright, darlin’, I’m gonna… I’m gonna slide in behind you. Is that okay?”

Saoirse nodded gently. Schlatt frowned.

“Saoirse…”

“Yes…”

She spoke up, this time a little louder. Schlatt nodded to himself. As she gave him space to, he stepped in behind her, slowly sinking down into the water. He brought his legs out on either side of her, her back against his chest. They were incredibly cramped, but he could care less about that right now. Schlatt brought his hands to her shoulders. This was a safe spot, right?

“Tell me where to go, Saoirse.”

Schlatt whispered in her ear. He watched her think to herself, until she parted her lips to speak again.

“...My hair…”

Schlatt smiled weakly. He loved her hair.

“Alright. I’ll wash your hair.”

He brought his fingers up to her scalp, slowly massaging his fingernails into her hair follicles. He watched her ease back into him, her eyes closing again. He took careful measures to make sure he wasn’t hurting her as he untangled her mats, cleansing the dirt from her skin. Schlatt kept his gaze on her eyes, watching them as they remained closed, relaxing into the rhythmic motion of his fingernails against her scalp. Unsurprisingly he had dreamt of a moment like this, yet in a totally different context. He imagined himself sat in this tub like he was now, but this time Saoirse was on top of him, looking towards him, her body igniting in the mixture of their own desires… 

He would accept this just as much.

“Your lovely red hair is clean.”

Saoirse’s head had fully rolled back into the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed. He gazed down at her body, noticing how she didn’t seem to mind his eyes on her bare skin. He brought both arms out to rest against the sides of the tub, resting his own head back this time. She didn’t seem like she wanted to do much else now besides be with him. He was more than happy to oblige. He couldn’t imagine the things going on in that mind of hers. Schlatt opened his eyes briefly. He looked down at the nearly asleep woman resting back against his own body. He smiled. He knew then that this is what he was after. This is the thing he was searching for.

Schlatt pressed his lips against her temple. She didn’t move. She must have fallen asleep fully. Schlatt took every inch of her in. Her red hair, the freckles dusting her pale skin, her pouty lips, her long legs. This is what men fought wars over. This is what men died protecting. He understood it now. He would do anything and everything to make her the happiest woman alive. A tremendous feat, he knew that. She had seen so much at such a young age, however Schlatt liked a challenge.

For the first time in his life, Schlatt opened his heart.

“I love you, Saoirse.”

Chapter Text

song: Caesar - The Oh Hellos

1 week later…

She was alone.

She was entirely, completely alone.

The earth was dark, the ground cold, the water bitter. She was trapped in a small cage, naked, battered, the sharp sting of the cold air biting into her skin. Beady eyes gazed upon her from the darkness, lurking, hungry. They circled her, waiting. She was the prey, the fresh, ripe fruit, waiting to be picked, sliced open, pitted, devoured, digested, discarded.

Her father’s head on a pike, staring at her with empty eyes, his mouth moving, but it wasn’t his voice. It was a rasp, foreign, cold.

“The wicked are ashes beneath the righteous feet of the chosen.”

The words twisted her stomach, suffocating her with their meaning. She knew it wasn’t him speaking, but still, she could hear it, feel it, pumping through her veins like a sickness, mocking her grief. The faces of her people, unrecognizable now, were scattered across the field, their bodies mutilated, their heads twisted on pikes.

And there she was, alone, trapped in the suffocating silence of a world that had forgotten her, her people, and everything she had ever known.

Saoirse’s eyes snapped open, and she took in a deep, gasping breath as she quickly sat up. She looked around, feeling the warm bed beneath her, the thick blankets surrounding her, the warm clothing protecting her body. Saoirse exhaled gently, pushing her thick tangled hair out of her face to see better. It was daylight outside, around the afternoon. She hadn’t been doing much these days except lying in bed, sleeping, and crying. She hadn’t ever stopped crying for one moment since leaving home. She had no motivation to eat, to drink, to care for herself. She had been in the same dress for the past week now. Saoirse gazed down at her legs, pulling her dress up slightly to look at them better. The scarring had faded now at this point, and the superficial bruising had since long gone from when she was initially rescued.

She considered this new life of hers a rescue now. It was clear that Schlatt had no intention to hurt or harm her. The decision to return home to Ireland or stay aboard this old ship had been made for her when she saw her massacred home. She had already made up her mind before then, however that had sealed the deal. This was her home now. Saoirse lowered her skirt, before looking outside again. The waters were calm, the sky cloudy. Ocean as far as the eye could see. She slid out of bed, stepped towards the window, then pressed against it gently. The window opened slightly, the salty sea breeze making her hair billow slightly. Saoirse closed her eyes while listening to the waves lap against the bottom of the ship. 

Now that she had a moment of silence, she realized that this moment wasn’t entirely normal. She looked back at the bed, noting its emptiness. Where was Johnny? He was intent on remaining by her side until she felt better. Maybe he had something important to do. Either way, she was glad he wasn’t sulking like she was. He didn’t need to carry the weight of her loss as well. Saoirse sighed gently, looking down at the corner of the room where a pair of his heavy boots were, next to her own pair. She smiled weakly.

The door opened slowly, a woman peering in. Saoirse’s eyes widened, quickly straightening up.

“Oh, goodness me...”

The woman stepped in, closing the door behind her. She smiled awkwardly.

“Erm… my name is Keira, we haven’t met formally-”

“You’re Irish.”

Keira paused, before nodding her head once, smiling wider. 

“Aye. Ballyshannon.”

Saoirse blinked, taking her in. Her long brown hair had been braided down. back of her head, resting on her shoulder. She wore ill-fitted men’s clothing, a red tunic and brown dirty trousers. She had heavy boots on her feet. She held a dirty cloth in her hands, scrubbing some sort of black soot between her fingers and against her face. She seemed like she could trust her based on the way she stood against the door, almost as wary as Saoirse was. Keira slowly sat down in the chair next to her bed.

“I just… I wanted to say how sorry I am, lass.”

Keira shook her head.

“That Cromwell… he’s the antichrist. He kills for fun. He had no business bein’ near your village, neither mine.”

Saoirse swallowed while sinking back into her bed. She stared at her hands, silent.

“I- Sorry, I didn’t mean to sour the mood. Um… Cap’n wanted me to help you get dressed.”

Keira stood up, turning towards a chest beside her.

“Get dressed?”

Keira looked behind her shoulder at Saoirse.

“He said you’ve been wearin’ the same thing for a week straight.”

Saoirse looked down at herself, noticing the small stains in the thin cloth. She looked back up at Keira briefly.

“Where is he?”

Keira sat up with a new dress in her arms.

“Below deck. He’s been busy with William. Talkin’ about an ‘ambush’, somethin’ or other.”

An ambush… Saoirse stared blankly at the wall while Keira helped her change, holding her arms up as the woman tossed the cloth over herself, pulli her arms through the sleeves.

“...Did you hear anything more about this ‘ambush’?”

“No. Didn’t want to bother ‘em. He’s been quite busy with this plan.”

Saoirse looked up at Keira, watching the way she folded her old dress under her arm. She gave Saoirse a soft smile.

“You really are a beauty.”

Saoirse felt her lips turn up weakly.

“Would you mind if I fixed yer hair? I know it’s probably been botherin’ you some.”

Saoirse brushed her fingers through her tangled curls, before nodding gently. Keira brought herself behind Saoirse in the bed, raking her motherly fingers through her hair as she began making a large braid.

“He cares so deeply about you, lass. He’s been cryin’ a lot.”

“I need to see him…”

“I don’t know if now is the time… He’s a bit busy.”

Saoirse turned her head to the side slightly, looking down at the worn floorboards as she debated her next move. What was this ‘ambush’ Keira had mentioned? Was Schlatt trying to attack someone? He wasn’t the type to go after others without rhyme or reason. He must have a motive.

“There ye are.”

Keira slipped off the bed behind her, bringing her hands clasped together in front of herself.

“I bet you feel better now in fresh clothes.”

“I do… thank you.”

“Of course, darlin’. I’ll be on deck, I’m learnin’ how to load the cannons right now, so I’ll be there if you need me.”

Saoirse said nothing, watching the woman quietly exit the room again. Why in the hell was she learning how to load cannons? Was Schlatt planning on taking down a fleet of pirate ships? She had been on this vessel long enough to know that loading the cannons was not apart of his crew’s daily schedule. Saoirse had to get to the bottom of this. She didn’t care if Schlatt was in a bad mood. She needed to understand him.

—

Saoirse slowly crept down the old wooden steps, hearing the sound of gruff voices talking over each other, one sticking out in particular. Saoirse stepped behind a pillar, shielding herself from view, craning her head to see six men sitting on crates surrounding a large table between them. A large candle sat in the middle, on top of what Saoirse assumed was a map. Among the other 4 men was Willy, who was facing slightly towards her, and Schlatt, who had his back to her. He was hunched over, holding a large machete, speaking in a familiar tone.

“We make for the Isle of Man.”

Schlatt’s voice was steady, cutting through the low murmur of the gathered men. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the cabin.

“The Stormcaller will be there for resupply. That’s where we strike.”

A large, brown-bearded man shifted uneasily. 

“And how exactly do we do that? That ship’s got twice our numbers, better weapons, and a hell of a lot more powder.”

Schlatt leaned over the table, fingers tapping against the worn map. 

“We make ourselves look like easy prey.”

Willy furrowed his brows, arms crossing. 

“Explain.”

“We cripple the Crimson Tide. Slash the sails, tilt her to one side, take down our colors. Make it look like we barely survived a battle.”

A deeper skinned bald man let out a low hum.

“You want to make us look weak on purpose? That’s a dangerous game.”

“It’s the only game we can play.”

Schlatt shot back. 

“We keep most of the crew hidden below deck, leave only a handful of us in sight, looking half-dead and desperate.”

Willy scoffed, amused.

“And when they board to loot our corpses?”

A soft snicker slipped from Schlatt’s mouth. 

“Why, we gut them before they know what’s happening.”

A heavy silence settled over the group. The men exchanged uneasy glances. The plan was bold, but not insane. Willy finally spoke, voice low and level.

“You’re askin’ a lot of this crew, Schlatt.”

Schlatt straightened, his presence filling the room. 

“I’m giving them a chance to take my damn ship.”

The crew stiffened. This ship had been Schlatt’s pride and joy for the past 15 years, the fact that he was suggesting such an idea meant that he had a lot of faith in himself. However, he was also incredibly full of himself. Willy let out a slow breath. 

“Even if it works, what happens next? We take the Stormcaller…then what? They’ll have other ships, other men. We can’t fight forever.”

Schlatt’s fingers curled into fists. 

“We won’t have to.”

He glanced down at the map, tracing the route with one roughened fingertip.

“We sail straight into Blackwell. No fight, no warning. We’ll have already won.”

The men silenced momentarily. Willy combed through his scruff beard, mulling over the idea, before catching something in the corner of his eye. He sat up, gaze bewildered.

“Lassie?”

The men quickly turned, hands flying to their weapons automatically, before Schlatt turned his head finally. Saoirse stood at the edge of the candlelight, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The crew gawked at her, but she didn’t care. Her gaze stayed fixed on Schlatt. He hesitated.

“Rosie…”

Schlatt stood suddenly, removing his hat, taking a small step towards her. He held out his hand.

“My sweet girl, you should be resting that pretty head… Let me help you up to bed-”

“What are you planning…?”

She stepped forward, jaw tightening, hands still locked around her sides. Schlatt sighed gently, wringing his hat together in his hands.

“...I can’t stand by idly anymore, Rosie. I need to do somethin’.”

The room was tense. His men look bewildered. They watched their fearsome pirate captain of over a decade, Johnathan Schlatt, stand nervously in front of the woman he loved. Schlatt continued.

“My mother was murdered before my own eyes when I was a boy. I’ve spent my entire life lookin’ for the bastard, yet I’ve always been two steps behind. I… after Ireland, I decided I couldn’t keep this up. I’m goin’ guns a-blazin’.”

Saoirse watched the way his gaze narrowed, his expression determined. He met her eyes again.

“I’m goin’ to find Reacer. I’m goin’ to kill Reacer. And then I’m going to find Cromwell and kill him too. I’m goin’ to have his ugly head on a pike. Just for you.”

Schlatt froze, then let out a heavy sigh, almost as if he had been holding it in for years.

“I… I don’t want you involved, Saoirse… I can’t have you gettin’ hurt on my behalf… I don’t know what I would do with myself…”

A beat of brief silence.

“This is just revenge, then.”

Schlatt’s eyes flicked to the bald man. 

“No.”

“You think he’ll be in this Isle o' Man?” 

Willy crossed his leg over the other, tilting his head slightly. Schlatt nodded. 

“If he’s not there, I’ll find someone who knows where he is.”

A grey-haired man cursed under his breath. 

“You’re talkin’ about hunting down one man across the entire damn ocean.”

“Then I best get started.”

The crew exchanged glances. Some wary, some resigned. But no one argued. Saoirse stepped closer. She reached for his sleeve. Schlatt’s eyes snapped to hers.

“Let me help.”

“My love-”

“Let. Me. Help.”

Unbearable silence. Saoirse glanced behind Schlatt into Willy’s eyes, watching the way he grinned, nodding his head slowly, as if to say Atta girl. She looked back at Schlatt, her gaze steady. It didn’t take much more staring into his eyes to get him to break.

Schlatt finally looked away, turning back towards his men, keeping Saoirse’s hand clasped in his own.

“We set sail at dawn.”

Chapter Text

songs: Dúlamán - MALINDA, Unknown / Nth - Hozier

The handle of the flintlock felt warm in her grip. Saoirse studied her target with one eye, taking slow breaths as she lined herself up to take the perfect shot. The deck was silent, men watching from the sides as they waited for her to pull the trigger.

Saoirse breathed in, then fired her weapon.

A miss. Gentle sighs from the pirates among the sidelines. Saoirse frowned, looking at the empty bottle still standing on the opposite side of the deck, before looking down at her hands, the flintlock in her right. What was she doing wrong? She was never the best shot. Even with all the practicing she had done, she couldn’t figure it out.

“I was never a good shot either, Lass.”

She felt a hand clap her shoulder gently, Willy appearing on her left side. She pursed her lips, giving him a defeated look.

“I can’t shoot a gun to save my life, Willy. I’m dead weight.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do. You’ll get it eventually. If you can learn to walk again, you can surely learn to shoot.”

Saoirse frowned, before looking around behind her, cautiously searching for a familiar face. Fortunately, he was elsewhere. Saoirse would have been mortified if Schlatt had witnessed her failure. He had been working hard to teach her, yet she couldn’t retain his knowledge. Saoirse passed the pistol to Willy, who holstered the weapon in his belt.

“Fortunately us pirates don’t usually fight with our guns. We fight with our swords.”

“You think I’d be any better with a sword?”

Willy shrugged, a big grin spreading across his leathery face.

“Who’s to say?”

Saoirse gave him a weak smile.

“You have too much faith in me, old man.”

“Ahhh. I just know what you’re capable of, Saoirse.”

She smiled while he rubbed a large circle against her back with his hand, before he froze, looking off into the distance. Saoirse furrowed her brow.

“Willy?”

“Say, Saoirse…”

Willy leaned in slightly.

“I’ll bet you a bottle of my finest wine you can’t take Johnny down in a fight.”

Saoirse blinked.

“...You can’t be serious.”

“So what if I am? I’m only half-drunk right now. I have faith in you, Ireland.”

Saoirse clenched her jaw, looking down at her hands. She then snarled frustratedly, looking back up at Willy with an angered expression.

“You know how competitive I am!”

“Aye. You can’t just give up on me now.”

Ramona groaned, looking up at the sky. There was no way she could seriously beat Schlatt in a swordfight. She hadn’t ever even picked up a sword before, let alone try to fight someone with it. What was Willy thinking? What was he getting at? If it was just to get on her nerves and light a fire under her ass, it was working. Without looking at him, Saoirse held her hand out. Willy excitedly took her hand in his, shaking it quickly.

“Atta girl, atta girl! You’ll be a master swordswoman in no time. We keep our spares tucked away in the broom closet. Just use those for practice.”

“Whatever, you drunk.”

Willy gave her a childish grin while hobbling off towards the steps below the deck. Saoirse chewed on the inside of her lip while leaning against the maunmast, watching two pirates scrub the deck nearby. She put herself in this situation. Schlatt would be more than happy to have her step back and reconsider taking an active fighting role in his plan. However, she wanted to prove herself. She wanted to prove herself to Schlatt, to Willy, to the world. She wasn’t a weak, frail girl. She was a strong woman. Saoirse pushed herself off of the mainmast, creeping down the steps below deck to take a look at their sword inventory.

—-------

She felt… exposed.

Fighting in a skirt wasn’t exactly doing her any favors. Sword fighting was about agility, the ability to move quickly and think on your feet. A dress was the antithesis to all three ideas. So, she was wearing a black tunic and a pair of brown trousers she had found while rummaging Schlatt’s belongings. He had hardly noticed, he had been busy in his office all day with charting maps and navigating the oceans. They said a brief hello in the morning and at around dinnertime. Now it was night, and the crew was asleep. Perfect time for practice.

Saoirse hauled a heavy sack of grain up to the deck, groaning under the weight of it all. She dumped the sack onto the deck before falling down beside it, her sword clanging down at her side. She breathed intensely, wondering how Schlatt made carrying these things look so easy. 

Saoirse sat up while feeling around for the handle of the sword beside her. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers around the sword hilt, adjusting to its weight while she stood up. She had spent a decent amount of time watching men fight with blades to understand the mechanics, but wielding one herself felt foreign. Still, she had to try. She wouldn’t keep relying on others to protect her. She turned back to the sack of grain, imagining it as an opponent. A slow exhale left her lips as she raised the sword with both hands, steadying herself.

She swung.

The blade hit the sack with a dull thud, barely making an impression. Saoirse frowned. She adjusted her grip, tightening her stance. She swung again, harder this time. The impact sent a shudder up her arms, but the sack barely moved. Frustration flared in her chest.

“Bollocks…”

She focused, planting her feet. Tried to move the way she had seen others do. Quick, decisive, efficient. She slashed at the sack in a diagonal arc, and this time, the fabric split slightly, a few grains spilling onto the deck. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in her chest. Encouraged, she tried again, this time aiming for a different angle. The sack shifted slightly under the impact, swaying on its makeshift stand. Saoirse gritted her teeth, rolling with the motion. She stepped in, attempting a thrust; only for the tip of the sword to glance off the burlap awkwardly, nearly throwing her off balance. She stumbled, barely catching herself.

“Bloody hell.” 

She cursed under her breath, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. This was harder than she thought. Her arms ached already, the weight of the sword feeling heavier with every swing. How did the others make this look effortless? How did Schlatt? The thought of him made her stomach twist. She glanced around, scanning the ship for any sign of movement. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her struggle. It was one thing to learn, another to fail spectacularly in front of someone who could probably disarm a man in his sleep. No one. Just the open sea and the creak of the ship. Good.

Saoirse turned back to the sack, adjusting her stance. She was determined to land a proper strike, one that would tear through the fabric instead of bouncing off like a child’s practice swing. She raised the sword…

“You look good in my pants.”

The voice cut through the silence like a blade. Saoirse whirled around, sword raised, heart slamming against her ribs. Schlatt leaned against the doorway of his office, arms crossed over his broad chest. He wasn’t wearing his coat, only a loose white shirt that hung open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something amused, maybe even impressed. Heat prickled at the back of her neck. She exhaled sharply, lowering the sword.

“I needed something with more movement…”

Schlatt pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, slow and deliberate. 

“I’ll see about getting you a belt.”

As he came up behind her, he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, giving her a sarcastic smile. He could probably sense how frustrated she was right now.

“And, Rosie,” 

He drawled, voice thick with sleep, 

“Ask me before you take my favorite shirt.”

Saoirse huffed, flustered, gripping the sword tighter as she turned back to the sack. 

“Didn’t think you’d notice…”

“I notice everything.”

She ignored him, lifting the sword again, readying for another strike. She didn’t expect him to step closer, didn’t expect the warmth of his body just behind her, or the way his hand reached out, gently closing over hers.

“You’re holdin’ it wrong darlin’.”

She tensed as his fingers adjusted her grip. He was close. They hadn’t been this close in awhile. His chest nearly pressed against her back as he leaned in, breath warm against her ear.

“Loosen up,”  

He spoke while guiding her arms. 

“You’re too stiff. Fighting ain’t about brute strength, it’s about control.”

Saoirse swallowed hard and nodded.

“Try again.”

She did. And this time, it felt different. She allowed her body to follow the swing all the way through, the blade slicing a clean cut into the sack. Thousands of granules began spilling onto the deck, the sack deflating slightly. Saoirse exhaled heavily, feeling incredibly proud of herself. She looked back at Schlatt, who gave her a reassuring nod.

“That’s my girl.”

Saoirse’s face heated up. She looked down at the sword, squeezing the hilt confidently. It started to feel better in her grasp.

“What are you doing out here anyways, Rosie?”

Saoirse looked back at Schlatt, watching him walk over to the sack of grain. He squatted, picking the bag up in his arms… effortlessly. Saoirse didn’t let the thought frustrate her any further.

“I’m…”

She was a decent liar. However Schlatt had quite the effect on her. He could get her to crack with one cock of his bushy eyebrow. As he set the sack to the side, he turned back to her curiously.

He cocked his brow.

“Willy bet that I could beat you in a sword fight because I’m not good at shooting guns so I decided to practice while everyone was asleep and I didn’t think you’d notice me and I-”

Schlatt held up a hand, smiling sweetly.

“Number one, never take a bet from a drunk. Especially that drunk. He once bet me a half pound of gold that I could outdrink him.”

Saoirse felt herself stifle a laugh. Schlatt nodded.

“Right. Number two, you don’t have to prove your worth to anyone, especially not over a silly bet like that. Sword fighting takes a lot of practice. Not everyone is a natural.”

Schlatt yawned, scratching his head. Saoirse stared at him while lost in thought. She needed to be able to fight before they put this ambushing plan into action. She already felt good with swinging a sword after Schlatt’s input, she just needed to practice more.

“Rosie?”

Saoirse blinked while Schlatt repeated her name.

“Yeah?”

Schlatt looked at her with a different expression now. His exhaustion started to seep through, his face looking worried.

“...Honey… I hope you know how much I care about you.”

Saoirse’s heart skipped a beat. She watched him as he took her in, sighing gently, slowly.

“I… I just hope you’re feeling better. It seems like you are. Anything you need me to do… I’ll do it in the blink of an eye.”

Schlatt gave her a weak smile. She felt a sudden surge of energy in this moment, leading her to drop her sword, throwing her arms around his neck. Schlatt almost immediately accepted her hug, burying his face into the crook of her neck, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. They stood there together for what felt like hours, their hug deepening each second that ticked by.

Saoirse finally pulled away, her hands on either side of his face. Schlatt looked into her eyes longingly. Desperately. However he remained quiet, unmoving, still.

Saoirse decided to move.

Her lips met his, kissing him gently. He kissed her back with the same energy, his hand running up her back and into her hair, cupping the back of her neck. They shared a few soft kisses that lasted no longer than 30 seconds. Saoirse pulled away slightly, their foreheads still pressed together.

“Thank you Johnny… You saved my life…”

Schlatt let out a soft snicker.

“I’d do it all over again just for you, Saoirse.”

Slowly he lifted his head, looking up at the sky. He looked back down at her, his thumb moving in small circles against her cheek.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’. You need all the rest you can get before our big fight. I want you to feel like you at least have a chance.”

Saoirse gasped before pinching his arm, an angry smile forming on her face.

“I have more than just a chance, Johnny.”

Schlatt laughed.

“Right. Come on, Rosie.”

Saoirse followed Schlatt back into his room. The two flopped down into bed together, embracing each other under his thick blanket. A few more kisses were shared before they both fell asleep together.

Chapter Text

songs: Notos - The Oh Hellos, Danse Macabre - The Oh Hellos, the fruits - Paris Paloma

“Place yer bets! Our fearless leader, the rough n’ tough Jonathan Schlatt, versus our lovely lady in red, our favorite underdog, Saoirse O’Connor!”

Saoirse exhaled gently, watching through Schlatt’s office doors as Willy gathered the crew on the deck, holding an empty metal tray out to collect bets. She turned away from the view outside, this time focusing on Schlatt as he leaned against his large navigation table, carefully sharpening her sword. It was hard to think straight when he stood before her like this, shirtless, his pants riding low on his hips, his bandana tied squarely around his forehead. Saoirse chewed on the inside of her cheek, glancing over at his sword as it leaned up against his desk. The blade was dirty, chipped, used, experienced. He could slice her into microscopic pieces without even thinking twice about it.

“Rosie?”

Saoirse blinked while turning her attention back towards him. He had stood up, holding her sword confidently by its blade, the hilt pointed towards her.

“She’s ready to go.”

Saoirse slowly took the handle of the sword in her hands, squeezing the hilt rhythmically.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Ahh. Needed to be sharpened anyways.”

Schlatt walked over to his own sword, lifting it up in his right hand.

“Remember the gameplan?”

Right, the plan. Schlatt had gone over this hundreds of times with her at this point. He would start strong, being as cocky as ever, yet he would falter, allowing her to go in for the win. 

“Yeah…”

They had to act their asses off for this to be believable. Saoirse didn’t know if she had it in her. Schlatt studied her facial expression for a few seconds before walking up to her. 

“Can’t fight like this now, can we…”

He brushed her hair off of her shoulders, bundling her tresses up into his fist. He dug into one of the pockets of his trousers, retrieving a small rag. Schlatt tied her hair out of her face, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. He smiled warmly.

“Lovely. Now you’ll be able to defeat me.”

Saoirse gave him a weak smile. 

—-

Saoirse readied herself, feet firmly planted on the deck, sword gripped tightly in her hands. The weight of it felt both foreign and familiar, the cold steel sending a surge of focus through her body. Around her, the crew of the ship stood in a loose circle, drinks in hand, the sounds of drunken laughter and clinking glasses in the background. Willy, ever the center of attention, was a bit too tipsy to appreciate the moment, but the rest of the men were eagerly watching, anticipating the clash.

Schlatt, on the other hand, was far too focused on the performance. His grin was wide, cocky, as he twirled his sword in his hand. 

“Alright, men.” 

Schlatt called out, raising his hand for silence. 

“A round of applause for Saoirse, the woman who’s foolish enough to think she has a chance.”

The men clapped half-heartedly, some shouting in exaggerated excitement. Schlatt turned back to Saoirse, his eyes sparkling. 

“I’m just tickled she thinks she’s got a chance against me.”

He winked. Saoirse clenched her jaw, holding his gaze. The sneering bravado only fueled the fire inside her. She wasn’t just playing this for show, she was here to prove something. 

“Well, shall we?” 

Schlatt asked, his voice laced with mock politeness.

“Knock ‘em dead, Lassie!” 

Willy shouted, slurring his words as he raised his drink, swaying slightly. The men cheered at his antics, but the moment was set. The fight began slowly, the two of them circling each other, eyeing the other’s movements. Schlatt was waiting for her to make the first move, his eyes trained on her feet while she watched his blade. Saoirse, however, was more focused on the weight of the sword in her hand, the subtle shift of Schlatt’s posture. She wasn’t trained for this like he was, but she had something he didn’t. Quick reflexes and an innate sense of where her opponent would strike. She’d realized that fighting was a lot about thinking on one’s feet. She’d spent her childhood running after sheep, dodging their erratic movements and anticipating their next steps. Her reflexes were lightning fast, and her body knew how to react before her mind could catch up.

Schlatt lunged first, a quick slash aimed at her chest. Saoirse stepped back, narrowly avoiding it. Her heart was racing, but her body was calm. She adjusted her stance and swung her sword in a wide arc, aiming for his side. Schlatt blocked it with ease, the clang of steel on steel ringing through the air. She tried again, this time with a quick thrust to his chest, but he deflected it effortlessly, a cocky smile curling at the corners of his lips. 

Saoirse wasn’t intimidated. She had spent her life learning how to move with the land, how to predict the sudden shifts in behavior that others couldn’t anticipate. And now, she was applying that same instinct to this fight. Schlatt’s every move was calculated, but she could feel the openings, small, subtle, waiting for her to take advantage of.

He came at her again, a quick slash to her right. She ducked just in time, the blade grazing the air just above her head. The movement was instinctive. As he pressed forward, she pivoted on her heel and countered with a thrust. He barely managed to block, but she was already moving. Sweeping low, her legs coiling as she brought them under him. Schlatt stumbled back, his feet losing balance on the slick deck. He caught himself just as fast.

“Not bad, Rosie.”

He muttered, his grin widening as he backed off, adjusting his grip on the sword.

She kept her eyes fixed on him, her focus razor-sharp. He came at her again, this time with a quick jab aimed for her midsection. She sidestepped, using her speed to her advantage, and blocked his next strike. Her body was starting to feel the burn, but she wouldn’t stop. 

He seemingly realized their plan was falling through. She was getting testy. Schlatt’s voice dropped, a low mutter barely audible over the rush of their movements. He wiped his face against his sleeve, his eyes trained onto hers like a predator stalking its prey.

“Alright, you wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.”

In an instant, he lunged forward again. But this time, his strikes were faster, more forceful. His sword moved in quick, calculated arcs, pressing her back. She blocked each one, but the strain on her arms was starting to show. She could feel her muscles burning, her breath coming in shallow gasps. But then, as she stepped backward, she saw an opening. His guard was weak on the left, his sword just slightly too low. She didn’t think, just reacted, and thrust her blade forward, landing a clean strike against his side.

Schlatt yelped, stepping back with a grunt, his hand instinctively pressing against the wound. Schlatt glanced at the crew, his hand still clutching his side, but his eyes narrowed in amused disbelief. 

“Fuck…”

He muttered, before locking eyes with Saoirse. She was breathing heavily, but there was a fire in her gaze now. He could see it, she wasn’t just playing around anymore.

“You just don’t quit, Rosie…”

He said with a grin, shaking his head, his hand still pressing to his side where blood was beginning to spill. However, Saoirse felt the rush of adrenaline course through her veins. She wasn’t done yet.

Without warning, Schlatt charged again, quick and brutal. Saoirse sidestepped his initial strike, pivoting and thrusting her sword in a quick riposte. He blocked it, but the momentum threw him off balance. She seized the opportunity, sweeping his legs out from under him with a sharp motion. Schlatt hit the deck with a heavy thud, his sword clattering away from him.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Saoirse stood over him, sword raised and hovering just above his neck. Her chest heaved as she breathed in the rush of victory, the crowd’s muffled voices dimming in her ears.

The moment stretched, thick with tension. Then, slowly, someone from the crew;

“I just lost ten shillings!”

“Damn, I lost twenty!”

Schlatt stared up at her, a mix of surprise and admiration in his eyes. 

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

An impressed smile tugged at his lips. 

“Well done, Saoirse.”

Saoirse’s breath was still uneven as she slowly lowered her sword. She hadn’t expected it either. She hadn’t even expected to last this long.

Schlatt groaned as he got to his feet, wincing at the pain in his side. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to draw blood either-”

“Oh! Johnny!”

Saoirse quickly covered her mouth, then untied her hair, shoving the cloth into his side. He groaned slightly, grinning st her weakly.

“Hey, I’ll live. Besides, you earned my blood. That was… that was incredible.”

Saoirse ignored him, instead pulling him towards his quarters to be properly assessed. Schlatt hobbled in after her, sitting down in bed while she frantically searched for something to control the bleeding.

“Rosie…”

Schlatt watched her fish a needle and thread from a pile of clothes in the corner. She licked the thread on her tongue, then tried to thread the needle, however her hands were trembling.

“Saoirse, darlin’...”

“Just sit still, I need to-...”

Schlatt carefully took her hands in his, making her quickly drop both the needle and thread against the ground. She stared into his eyes, her own wide. She was in a state of shock, she could feel her body beginning to feel extremely tired. The adrenaline had worn off. She had proven herself to the fullest extent. Now she was beginning to feel it.

“It’s a small cut. I’ll be okay. No need for any stitches.”

Saoirse breathed in heavily, before nodding her head once. She glanced back down at his side, watching how the cloth she had used to quell the bleeding was slowly staining red. However, she didn’t get to look much longer, as Schlatt pulled her into his bare body, wrapping his arms around her back. He sighed gently.

“You impress me everyday, Rosie… where did you learn to move like that?”

“Um…”

Saoirse took in a few more deep breaths, her body returning to a normal state, however her heart was still pounding in her ears. 

“Dad, uh, he raised sheep, n’... I was always good about wranglin’ them, I guess…”

“Mmh…”

Schlatt responded, his lips next to her ear. She could feel his moustache tickling her neck. She eventually brought her hands around his back, placing them against his nude skin. They sat like that for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. He stared into her eyes with an unreadable expression. It was almost dangerous.

Schlatt shook his head slowly.

“I must say… that was incredibly arousing.”

“What?!”

Saoirse blinked quickly, laughing at his remark. He was dead serious. She felt his hands carefully glide down her body, resting against the small of her back. She felt heat creep up through her neck. She took in a soft breath, then exhaled through her nose.

“...It wasn’t that hard…”

“For you, maybe… you’re special…”

His voice was husky now. She felt her pulse in the side of her neck, a quick release of pressure over and over again. His hands were careful, remaining in locations they both had deemed safe for him to touch. He didn’t move any further than she had specified. He was obedient. He waited for her to take control.

Saoirse liked that.

“You should teach me how to move like that sometime. It’d help me in my own battles for sure…”

“Mm… Yeah?”

Saoirse placed her hands on his shoulders, watching the way his eyes lit up slightly. He grinned, pulling her in slightly. Her hands trailed down his shoulders to the broad expanse of his bare chest. She felt… alive. Schlatt took in a slow breath, his voice rumbling low throughout the room.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Saoirse breathed in sharply at his remark, feeling a smile curl at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah…”

Their bodies moved in sync. He brought his hands to her waist, pulling her up onto his lap, while she brought her legs over his. He was looking up at her now, sitting at the edge of his bed, his hands riding dangerously low on her back. Saoirse pressed her forehead against his, looking into his chocolate eyes. 

She felt powerful.

“Tell me… tell me what you’d do to me, Johnny…”

Schlatt hitched a breath while she pressed herself down on his lap. Their lips met, kissing deeply, their tongues meeting hesitantly. They tasted eachother longingly, Schlatt’s hand grasping her hair like he had been starved his entire life. Saoirse broke away with a soft huff, her hair falling around her face.

“Saoirse, I’d… I’d cross the seven seas just to make love to you…”

His eyes were closed, one hand sliding down her back while the other gripped his bed. He thrust his hips slightly, making her gasp a little. He wasn’t done.

“Ugh, Rosie… I’d fuck you until the sun came up, I’d make you feel so fuckin’ good…”

Saoirse reached for her tunic, the one she had stolen from her closet. She slowly unbuttoned it from the top, his eyes watching her hands carefully. She shrugged the tunic down her arms once she had unbuttoned it halfway. Schlatt took in a soft breath while he sat eye level with her breasts. He looked up at her almost nervously. 

“...What would you do to me… here…?”

Saoirse took each breast in her hands, squeezing them slightly. Schlatt stared at her with wide eyes.

“...I’d love to… I’d love to taste them…”

Saoirse smiled nervously.

“Please…”

She could feel him throbbing excitedly under her lap. However, his face told a different story. His hands slid up her stomach, his fingers splayed out under her ribs. He sat for a beat, looking back up at her again. Her past sexual experiences seemed to cloud the air. Saoirse wanted to push past this. 

“Taste me, Johnny…”

He throbbed again. His fingers slowly traced around the soft mounds of flesh on her chest, palming her breasts reluctantly, before he brought his lips to her skin. Saoirse took in a shaky breath, biting her lip while he licked her freckled skin. He traced his tongue on the pale flesh around her nipple, before finally indulging himself. Schlatt let out a soft groan while he wrapped his lips around her left nipple, his other hand squeezing her breast with more confidence.

His eyes never left hers.

“Johnny… mmh…”

Saoirse felt her body tremble under his, one of her hands going to cover her mouth. Her hips began moving almost instinctively against his lap, riding on the stiff throbbing sensation under her. She felt weightless. She could feel his tongue lapping at the prickly skin on her nipple, his teeth just barely nipping at her areola. The sensation was so strong. She felt so warm. Just as soon as she had placed her hand over her mouth, he reached up, gently grabbing her wrist. He brought her hand back down, releasing her nipple from his mouth just briefly.

“Let me hear you, Rosie.”

She was floating, rocking her hips a little faster. While keeping his steely eye contact, he moved onto her other nipple, taking her left breast in his hand, pinching her nipple gently with his thumb and index finger. Saoirse whimpered, moaning his name gently. His other hand ran down her side, holding her steady against him, making sure she wouldn’t get too excited and fall.

What… is this feeling?

Why do I feel so light?

Why do I… oh god… Johnny…

Saoirse gasped, letting out a harsh squeal, feeling some sort of buildup just suddenly release in her stomach. She had moved her gaze away from Schlatt, this time staring at the ceiling, feeling his body ache under hers.

He released his mouth from her breast, taking both in his hands as he massaged the fleshy mounds.

“Atta girl.”

Saoirse breathed heavily, her head pounding with a surplus of emotions. She felt drowsy. 

“Johnny… What…”

Before she could speak, she felt him move. The shirt she was wearing was shrugged back over her shoulders, buttoned up haphazardly by his large hands. He stood, holding her in his arms, then turned around, laying her down in his bed. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek while sitting down beside her.

“You just had an orgasm. It’s a natural reaction the body has when it feels incredible pleasure.”

Saoirse pushed her hair out of her sweaty face. 

“You… you did that for me?”

“Well… I just helped you.”

He let out a gentle breath.

“You’re so pretty when you cum for me.”

She didn’t exactly know what that meant. However, the way he was looking at her with such earnest… it must have meant something good. Saoirse smiled weakly.

“I wanna do it again…”

Schlatt let out a soft laugh while he stood, unbuttoning his pants.

“Yeah… You don’t have to worry about that much. I’ll make sure you can do that everyday for the rest of your life.”

Schlatt turned away while he shoved his hand down the front of his pants briefly. He turned back around while buttoning himself up again.

“I hope you know how wild you drive me, honey.”

Saoirse shrugged, smiling innocently.

“What, little ole me?”

She went to palm her breasts again. Schlatt groaned, rubbing his face in his palm, saying something under his breath.

“Bloody hell, woman. You should… relax for a bit. I need to take care of some things. I’m sure Willy’s been verbally assaulted to hell and back by my men out there. I’ll have Keira come check on you in a little bit if that’s alright.”

Saoirse nodded, sitting up on her elbows. She still felt slightly dizzy. Schlatt gave her a soft smile, muttering to himself as he pushed himself through the doorway.

“Lucky me.”

Chapter Text

songs: Rule #27 - Drunk on Pride - Fish in a Birdcage

2 months ago…

Things felt too calm.

The waters were gentle, the skies clear and open, not a single cloud in the sky. Days like these meant his crew could relax a little and not worry about having to tend to the ship every second of the day. At the moment, Schlatt was one of  the only men on deck, steering his pride and joy across the open ocean as they headed back from Antigua. His trip had been successful, he had gotten as much information as he needed from that harlot.

He brought one hand up to rub at his scruffy face, reminiscing on the night. The woman certainly knew her way around a man. All he had cared for in that moment was retaining as much information as possible. He had gotten that, which was all that mattered. He sent her in her way in the dead of the night. Now, they were about a few hundred miles from the Americas, headed back towards the area they had originally been in. He would be making his way towards Ireland in order to get Saoirse back home. She was recovering just fine like Willy had said she would. By the time they were back, she’d be walking again.

He’d miss his redhaired siren.

“Captain!” 

A voice shouted from the crow’s nest. One of the men had spotted something. Schlatt broke away from his daydreaming, squinting his eyes as he tried to makeout what his lookout had spotted. The man had climbed down from the crow’s nest, hustling over with a small telescope.

“Here, it doesn’t look good sir-”

Schlatt wordlessly snatched the tool from his man, holding the device up to his right eye. He made a low grumbling noise under his breath.

“We’ve got company. Alert the crew, tell them to ready the cannons.”

“Right, sir.”

The man began descending the quarter deck, only to be briefly stopped by Schlatt’s command to halt.

“Wait.”

The man turned back around at him.

“Tell William, he’s in the sick bay. I don’t want to see Saoirse on deck at all.”

“Aye.”

—-

The first cannon blast shook the air with a deafening roar, followed by the sharp crack of wood splintering from the impact. The battle had begun. Schlatt’s sword was already in hand, and he moved quickly to join his men as the opposing pirates clambered their way onto his deck. The Crimson Tide’s crew had always been tough, but Schlatt knew they were up against a powerful enemy. His mind kept flickering to Saoirse. Stay below. Stay hidden. The last thing he needed was for her to be caught in the bloodshed.

The siege was short, Schlatt’s men caught off guard and with little time to prepare to face such a formidable enemy. Schlatt moved through the fighting with determination, cutting down anyone who dared to approach. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall, menacing figure of Gideon Fitzgerald. A pirate captain he knew all too well. Schlatt’s stomach tightened. He had been an associate of his father’s, and Schlatt had tried his best to steer clear of him ever since taling control of the Crimson Tide. Something must have happened for Fitzgerald to seek him out like this. He was ruthless, and if he had anything to say about it, Schlatt wouldn’t be leaving this battle alive.

Before Schlatt could make his way toward Fitzgerald, the enemy captain lunged at him, knocking him to the ground with a powerful strike. Schlatt’s sword flew from his hand, and the pain shot up through his side like a blazing fire. His vision blurred, the world spinning, as the enemy crew pulled him to the ground. He fought against them, but the pain was overwhelming. His head hit the deck with a sickening thud. Blood spilled from his wounds, and his body grew heavy with the weight of the agony. He could feel consciousness slipping away.

For a moment, the world went dark.

When Schlatt came to, he was disoriented, the ringing in his ears deafening. He opened his eyes and saw the blurry form of Fitzgerald standing above him, a sadistic grin on his face. Schlatt’s bloodied hands twitched at his sides. He had been nailed to the deck with cruel precision, his hands held fast to the wood by iron spikes.

“I didn’t think you were still alive, boy. The old man let you live?”

Fitzgerald chuckled low, staring at him with his icy blue eyes.

“Poor bastard would be so upset to see his heir like this.”

Schlatt snarled, gritting his teeth as he picked up his head slightly.

“I murdered my father fifteen years ago, he was a worthless stain on the earth-”

Schlatt broke out into a coughing fit, red mucus spitting onto the ground in front of him. His voice was hoarse and gritty. Fitzgerald hummed to himself while he stepped over dead bodies, approaching one of his men. He held his hand out, his man placing a flintlock in his hand.

“I had heard that you’re keeping a particular stowaway on board. Care to tell me a bit more?”

“The way I conduct my ship is my own business, Fitzgerald.”

“Ahh, you see, Johnathan, when a fleet of my own men are suddenly found dead floating in the middle of the ocean, ransacked and pillaged beyond belief, and my prized possession has been stolen from me, it suddenly becomes my business.”

Fitzgerald scowled, his voice dripping in venom as he crossed his arms.

“My men had wrote to me about capturing a girl, a beautiful virgin at that. You and I both know how hard a commodity that is to come by in this line of work? No need to pay a fee to make love when you have a bitch locked away on board.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

Fuck. Schlatt grimaced while Fitzgerald broke into a laughing fit. He held his stomach, tossing his head back, laughing at the statement.

“Ahhh, Johnathan, you are nothin’ like your father! So much compassion, for what? I’ll refer to the bitch as I please, because as far as you and I are concerned, that is my property.”

Schlatt’s blood boiled with fury. The cruelty Fitzgerald displayed was beyond comprehension. To treat a living, breathing woman as little more than chattel, merely for being of the weaker sex, was something Schlatt could scarcely fathom. It was a wrong that stirred a deep and righteous anger within him.

“Tell you what, boy. When a woman can steer a mighty vessel such as this one, with her own two hands, I might consider your feelings then. However, at that point, you and I will be long dead and gone. So, I’ll ask again. Are there any fair ladies aboard this ship, Johnathan?”

“In your wildest dreams.”

He can’t know. He CAN’T know. Schlatt looked over at his left hand, noticing his flesh entirely covered in blood. He grunted, desperately trying to move his hand. If he discovered Saoirse, if he put his hands on her…

“I can always tell when you lie, Johnathan.”

There was a soft clicking noise. Schlatt picked his head up quickly, watching Fitzgerald aim his weapon at a dirty blonde haired man, slumped over against a mast.

“William James Montoya, you traitorous dog-”

“NO!”

No. Saoirse…

Schlatt caught her fiery red hair appearing from below deck, her body struggling as she stood against a barrel. Fitzgerald discarded the gun immediately, tossing it to the side.

“Well well well…”

Schlatt had to get up.

“SAOIRSE! NO! GET YOUR ASS BELOW DE- AAAUGH!!!”

He felt immense pressure against a dull wound in his hand. He looked over. A man pressed the heel of his foot against the nail, sinking it further onto his deck. Schlatt sobbed. He was so helpless.

“Don’t hurt Willy!”

Schlatt dared to look back, watching Fitzgerald as he approached Saoirse. Schlatt felt blood roaring in his ears.

“GET AWAY FROM HER. I’LL EAT YOU ALIVE, FITZGERALD!”

He struggled again, his other hand feeling looser. Saoirse yelped as Fitzgerald grabbed her suddenly, holding her down while his hands trailed up… her body…

Schlatt was seeing red. He wouldn’t let Fitzgerald see the light of day again.

“YOU ARE DEAD!”

Schlatt clenched his teeth, the pain from his nailed hands searing through him like fire. He drew in a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and with all the strength he had left, he tore his left hand free from the ground with a muffled grunt. The sensation of tearing flesh and sinew was unbearable, but he fought through it. With a sharp wince, he freed his other hand, pushing away the man who’d been pinning him. Blood poured from the wounds, staining the floor beneath him, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not when her body was on the like again.

Before the enemy pirates could react, he lurched forward, using the momentum to drive an elbow into one of the men rushing toward him. Weak and unsteady, he still managed to snatch the gun from his waistband. His hands were slick with blood, but he didn’t hesitate. The first shot rang out, followed by another, both hitting their targets narrowly. He turned his attention to the tall, grey haired man who held an exposed Saoirse in his steely grip, his eyes wide with shock amd horror.

Schlatt would savor this one.

He fired again, the shot grazing Fitzgerald’s arm. Fitzgerald’s grip faltered, and Schlatt felt his strength leaving him as the gun slipped from his grasp, the weight too much for his bloodied hands to hold. The weapon fell, clattering uselessly to the floor. Saoirse collapsed to the ground with Fitzgerald’s fall, and in that moment, Schlatt was at her side. He grabbed her, his mangled hands trembling as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as best as he could.

“Sao… Saoirse…” 

His voice cracked, breathless with the effort of it all, his body a mess of pain, but he couldn’t let go. She didn’t respond. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips parted, as if she weren’t truly there. Schlatt’s heart twisted as he held her close, unable to tear his gaze away from her lifeless expression.

“Help… HELP HER! SOMEONE! Get up, HELP her!”

Schlatt called out to his remaining men, watching them with blurred vision as they picked themselves up from the ground, untied themselves from their restraints. Schlatt felt his body begin to give out, the scorching pain in his hands slowly amplifying as the adrenaline began to wear off. His body trembled. He cried out in immense pain while ripping his shirt off, trying desperately to cover Saoirse’s body to give her some dignity.

One of his men approached. Schlatt quickly whipped away, yelling uncontrollably. He salivated like a dog.

“STAY BACK!”

“Cap’n! It’s me!”

Schlatt blinked away his tears, observing one of his men who held his hand out, his face reading despair. Schlatt breathed heavily. He wouldn’t let Saoirse go.

“Cap’n, you need to bandage yourself up… I can take her for now while Willy recovers…”

“No… nonononono…”

He had lost his mother years ago, his first love. He wouldn’t lose his second.

“Cap’n… it’s alright…”

More of his men approached. Schlatt watched them cautiously crowd around him, kneeling next to him, placing their hands on his shoulders. His nerves eased, only slightly. It brought him back to that day 15 years ago, the day he murdered his father. Here he was, just as frightened as he was then.

Slowly, reluctantly, Schlatt released Saoirse’s numb body, watching his men carefully take her to his quarters. Schlatt rest himself against the mast, next to Willy, his chest heaving. He felt his mind begin to slip.

“Cap’n, your hands… God A’mighty…”

The last thing Schlatt saw before he passed out was the evening sky, the breeze cool and soft. Saoirse was okay. That’s all that mattered to him.

Chapter Text

“You have quite soft hands, y’know.”

“What, me? Not possible.”

“Very possible. Completely correct, actually. They’re like butter.”

“Well, if you ignore the calluses…”

Saoirse giggled gently at his remark while she stared at Schlatt’s upturned hand, running her thumb over the large surface of his palm. He did have some nasty calluses near where his fingers met the palm, although that was to be expected. The rest of his hand was soft and plush, starkly contrasting the rest of his skin. 

He was practically made of scales.

Saoirse ran her thumb over the middle of his palm, a soft frown forming over her face. She remembered that night from months ago well. He had a small red raised scar on either side of both of his hands. The skin here was particularly soft and smooth. He had just recently removed the bandages around his hands as the scarring had taken over.

“I think I know why.”

Schlatt took a drink from his bottle, bringing his hand from her own, resting against her stomach.

“Every night I sleep in gloves full o’ beef tallow. I was just waitin’ for you to finally notice.”

Saoirse laughed again, leaning back against him. They were cuddled up in his bed together, watching the sun set over the horizon. She had laid herself against his chest, in between his legs They were savoring the last few moments of peace before they finally began stage one of his big plan early next morning. Things seemed to be going well so far.

Saoirse rested her head back against his shoulder, looking up at the underside of his face. She grimaced.

“How does a nose grow so much hair?”

“What?”

Schlatt quickly plugged his nose while looking down at her, smiling wide.

“Don’t look up there. That’s a private area.”

Saoirse merely smiled at him. She truly felt safe in the arms of this man. He had proven himself many times over. It was safe to say she was in love. She had no idea what romantic love felt like, however if it felt like this, she was definitely in love.

Schlatt dropped his hand, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“We’ll be nearing the Isle of Man soon enough. I… hope you know what an ambush entails…”

“I’ll be okay. I’m strong.”

Schlatt didn’t react. He stared blankly out of the window, stuck in his own mysterious head. She could never read him the way she could with Willy. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Schlatt, on the other hand, he kept his cards close. Saoirse brought a hand up to stroke the side of his scruffy face, snapping him out of his trance.

“I’m confident. I’ve been training for a week now. I know what I need to do.”

“I know you do, honey… a man can still worry…”

He spoke almost to himself, his free hand on her stomach gliding up and down. She merely looked out of the window like he was, watching the calm waters as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.

—----

Keira worked quickly, braiding her long hair down her back, then pinned her hair up into a ball to keep it out of her way. The two women sat in one corner of the deck, each preparing the other for battle. It was early in the morning on the deck of the Crimson Tide, men working quietly in the cool foggy dawn. They had extinguished all lanterns, removed most of the items on deck, and were now at work tearing up the sails. Willy had staved off of his booze for a few days in preparation for this moment, as this would be no easy task. 

Schlatt was a mess of himself.

He was running around quietly, harshly whispering orders at his men as they continued their jobs. Every once in awhile he would pass by her to give her a quick good morning or a light stroke on the head, however he was extremely preoccupied. Things were almost done. They were nearing their target. As Saoirse turned and began working on Keira’s long brown hair, she took in a gentle breath, worshipping these last few moments of calm. Saoirse knew very well that with one wrong move, she could die today.

Death seemed to follow her in every direction she went. She wasn’t scared of it much anymore.

–

Saoirse held her breath as the first few enemy pirates boarded.

She, as well as the rest of the Crimson Tide, sat in the dark recesses of the ship’s lower deck, patiently listening to the crew above slowly make their way on board. Loud, thunderous stomps as they dropped down onto deck, followed by creaks from the floorboards above as they walked around. Saoirse kept her eyes closed, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tight. She felt Schlatt’s hand resting on her shoulder behind her, ready to signal to his men when the attack would start.

For now, they would wait.

From above, a voice sneered, thick with amusement.

“Well, if it ain’t the Crimson Tide herself.”

A rough chuckle followed. A sharp thud of boots against the deck.

“Never thought I’d see her dead in the water. Figured the old girl would go down in flames before anyone else got their hands on her.”

“Aye, And I didn’t think Fitzy had it in him to take down Schlatt. Thought the bastard was too slippery for that.”

A third voice jumped in. As more men made their way into deck, Saoirse clenched her jaw, glancing behind her at Schlatt to her left. She gave him a look, he wordlessly shook his head. They would remain still for now. So long as these braggarts kept running their mouths. 

“The man’s crazy. Heard the boy once burned down an entire royal dock just to stick it to the lobsters? Also heard he was merely 17 at the time.”

“That true?” 

“Aye. Port Royal, years back. Set fire to half the damn harbor just to make a point. Man’s like a ghost. One minute he’s there, the next, he’s gone.”

A scoff. 

“Sounds like a tall tale.”

“It ain’t.”

A fourth man chimed in. Saoirse glanced across from her, watching Willy grin wide at Schlatt behind her. Something told her the stories these men were spinning were true based on how Schlatt’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

“I had a nephew there that night. Said the whole place was in chaos, fire tearing through the docks, men screamin’, ships burnin’. And all because of a boy.”

Silence hung between them before another voice spoke, lower now, laced with doubt.

“So how in the hell did he let his ship go so easy, then?” 

Boots scuffed against the deck. 

“If he’s as mad as they say, this don’t sit right.”

“Aye.”

One gruff voice muttered. 

“Fitzgerald’s got moxie, but Schlatt’s got teeth. Don’t seem like him to just roll over and die.”

“Maybe the bastard finally ran outta luck.”

“Or maybe he’s still breathin’.”

A hush fell over the group. The footsteps ceased, the floorboards no longer creaking. Every member of the Crimson Tide seemed to hold their breath.

Had their cover been blown?

“Doesn’t matter.”

The first voice spoke again, gruff and sure. 

“The ship’s in our hands now. Strip her down.”

The footsteps resumed. The crew sat quietly, all watching for Schlatt’s signal, until the latch of the trapdoor leading down to the lower deck began to turn. The door swung open, illuminating the open room with the morning light. A young enemy pirate stood before the entire crew of the Crimson Tide, their weapons drawn, determination pumping through their blood.

The young pirate barely got a yelp out before he was cut down.

The Crimson Tide stormed out of the hold, their battle cry startling the invaders. However, they were prepared to fight, as the sound of steel on steel cut through the foggy silence of the morning. Saoirse had little time to prepare herself as a bearded man approached her, swinging his sword wildly at her. She managed to side-step, but her reaction times were too slow. As the pirate came in again, she froze, however he was body slammed into the ground by Schlatt. He drove his sword into the man’s chest without thinking. Saoirse’s heart pounded in her ears as he gave her a quick look.

“Stay sharp!”

She couldn’t freeze up again. That’s how they would lose. Schlatt needed her. She would prove herself today. She wasn’t a little village girl anymore. Saoirse O’Connor was a pirate.

With little hesitation, she blindly dove forward into the fray, stabbing her sword into the back of an unsuspecting pirate. He screamed out, however she wasn’t done. Saoirse pulled her sword out from his back, then dove in again with a loud grunt, toppling the man to the ground. Just as soon as he had fallen, another enemy entered her sight. Saoirse retrieved her blade quick enough to deflect a strike from a tall, red-haired man. She grimaced under his strength, her arms shaking as he pushed harder to break her. She heard him laugh loud over the yelling.

“What’s a little girl like you doin’ out here?”

Saoirse grit her teeth.

“Tearin’ you to shreds!”

She yelled, kicking the man’s legs out from under him. He fell, immediately going for his sword, however Saoirse was faster, giving his neck a quick and deep slice. She felt blood splatter all over herself. She stared down at her kill, eyes wide. She was a killer. She had just murdered a man.

She felt alive.

“SAOIRSE!”

Willy’s voice screamed out. Saoirse quickly spun around in his direction before feeling a searing hot pain down her arm. She had been cut, and it was a good cut. Saoirse felt her legs buckle at the sight of her own blood, however the adrenaline pumping through her veins was enough to push her further. She raised her arms, deflecting a jab, then quickly swung, slicing the large man’s chest. He bellowed in pain while she quickly stabbed him in the stomach. The pirate had began walking backwards, swinging wildly at her, until his legs hit the edge of the deck, and he was sent backward falling into the icy ocean. Saoirse took in a deep breath, before looking around. They had almost claimed victory.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye while the Crimson Tide’s crew finished off the last of the enemy crew. A younger man, no older than she, hid behind a large crate that had toppled over from the commotion. He would probably get away unnoticed to go and tell his confidants about what had occurred. That the elusive pirate captain Johnathan Schlatt was alive and well, and he was hunting them down.

Not if Saoirse had anything to do about it.

Without thinking, she dove, tackling the boy down on the ground with a grunt. They struggled, however Saoirse had grabbed him by the neck, wrangling her legs around his own to keep him restrained. She did this all the time while living with her father on the farm. She wrestled sheep stronger than this.

“Get off of me!”

The man grunted, his hands clawing at her bloody arm around his neck. Saoirse grit her teeth, her arm around his neck locked tight. He gagged against her hold while she snarled into his ear.

“Stay down.”

Heavy footsteps followed by a sword unsheathing. Saoirse looked up and immediately smiled wide. Schlatt dabbed his red bandana against the side of his face, blood spilled into his shirt. He pointed the tip of his sword at the man in her arms.

“You best listen to the lady. She isn’t opposed to strangulation.”

Schlatt looked into her eyes.

“Atta girl, Saoirse.”

He looked over his shoulder, using his free hand to stuck two fingers into his mouth. He whistled, then waved his hand.

“One of you boys come help my girl. Looks like we’ve got a hostage.”