A/N: I feel like we don't have enough Scotland, so I made some. This is going to be a series with about 10 chapter. (If I keep to the story plan or don't get bored.)

The ship was definitely caught in a storm. You didn't need to be on deck to figure that out. You could hear the waves smashing against the ship, rocking it back and fourth. If you listened close enough you could just catch the Captain shouting orders at his men.

Barrels and crates shift about the hold and crash into each other, sometimes spewing their content on the floor. You could only imagine how annoyed the crew would when they find their precious bottles of rum smashed and spilled everywhere.

The temptation to drown out the chaos around you was overwhelming. Yet you kept your focus on your surrounding, knowing that each time you blocked out the world around you it became harder and harder to force yourself back into reality. Furthermore too do so, you would have to let your mind wonder, and everytime it would wonder back to the same things.

How long have I been here?

how long have I been away from Katherine?

How far where you from her?

What was she doing?

Would she resent you for disappearing?

Is she still living?

After your Mother was taken by the black death she had depended on you. For five years you did everything you could to look after her, you dainty little sister and now you were gone. Trapped on this god forsaken ship with no way of returning. You'd only gotten on the boat for her.

Being so young and weak you'd struggled to find a job. Your only options were to sell yourself or common theft and you had no intentions of whoring yourself out for spare change. No, instead you stole. Nothing major, a loaf of bread here and there or money from someone back pocket. From time to time you felt guilty, stealing others hard earn money but seeing your sisters grateful face, and knowing she was well always put you at ease.

Naturally when news of a pirate ship being docked near by reached your ears you quickly devised a plan.

You watched from the shadows as each crew member exited the large ship. Presumably to buy wears, drink ale and disturb the otherwise peaceful town. When the ship seemed empty you snook on. You'd only aimed to take a few things, no more than you would need. A little food, perhaps some money, unfortunately you got caught.

And now? Now you were trapped.

Caged in the hold of the 'Blessed William'.

The weather disturbance seemed to be picking up and you were to busy counting how many barrels had opened to notice when your cage began to shift. Within seconds you felt a warming sensation hit the back of your head, everything started spinning, everything bury then... Nothing.

~Time Skip~

You woke to the sound of footsteps, but they weren't familiar. They weren't Arthur's. Arthur was the first mate of this ship and he was also the man who had caught you. The man who caged you and the man who watched you. He would bring you food and drink or more commonly the scraps of everybody else's food. He never said much to you but he was the only person you'd seen on this ship. The other crewmen never ventured below the berth.

Arthur was defiantly a proud man. He may not have been the captain but he stood tall like one. Metaphorically speaking of course, in truth is was a rather short man, with messy blond hair and big green eyes. Beautiful big eyes like emeralds, if he hadn't been your jailer you might have found him handsome. Even with his oddly large eyebrows. They almost reminded you of caterpillars.

He also walked proudly. Every step was quick and confident.

This was not his walk.

You began to squirm around in your now upside-down pen in hopes of seeing the owner of this walk.

He seemed to be inspecting whatever damage the storm had caused. From behind you could see he had red hair, very wild red hair. He was tall as well, about a foot or two taller than Arthur. His shoulders where broad and gave you the impression that he was fairly strong and well built.

His waistcoat and breeches were made of what seemed to be velvet in a deep blue colour and beneath his waistcoat was a cream shirt that have rather puff sleeves.

Perhaps he is the Captain.

You eyes followed his every move as he picket up barrels and examined what remained of his stored goods.

He moved quite a certain swagger but the more things he found destroyed, the lazier his strut became. It wasn't long before he came across the shattered bottles of rum. You thought you heard him mutter something beneath his breath. You didn't quite catch what it was but it seemed to be rather foul mouthed. No doubt he was annoyed.

Eventually she seemed to have assessed most of the area and his body language gave the impression that he wasn't pleased.

"Well thon just guid."

Was that a Scottish accent?

Is this a Scottish ship?

It can't be, Arthur is English, unless...

Already so many questions flooded you mind.

Are there even any Scottish pirates?

We obviously but...

How could I not know that their wer-

Your head was so full of questions that you hadn't seen the man begin to walk in your direction, you only registered him completely when your cage began to shake under the force of his big black boot.

With aloud rattle your cage fell back to its original position thus giving you a little more freedom to move about.

"At lease ye servived." He exclaimed as he lowered himself to your level. Now eye to eye you could finally see his face. Much like Arthur he had full green eyes framed by another pair of bushy eyebrows. Although this mans eyes seemed much sharper. His skin was pale, which seemed strange considering the amount of time he must spend in front of the sun. His lips were thin and chapped.

Overall he was another man you might have found attractive in other circumstances, and if it weren't for that smug look he had plastered across his face.

"Even ef yer a little barkit."

Slowly he reached into the pocket of his waste coat to retrieve what you guessed was a cigar. He pressed it between his lip and lit it with a tiny silver lighter, all the while his eyes never left your unmoving form.

After a moment he pulled the brown stick from his mouth and blew the thick curling smoke towards you. The grey-blue substance tickled your nose and you tried to sink away from it.

This man was defiantly the captain. He had barely strung two sentences together and you were already terrified. Everything about him radiated the words; Don't mess with me.

"Naw ye gon' tell me who the feck ye re an whit yer doin' on ma gailey?"

A/N: SCOTLAND WHY YOU NO REAL CHARACTER?

Yeah, sorry I didn't write much interaction between Scotland and the Reader, I promise you that things will get better. D: Stay tuned. Please?