Chapter one – Three Ships

What would you say if you were stranded in the middle of the Indian Ocean?

Loki never really thought he'd ever have to think about the answer to that question, until now.

Now he knew exactly what he'd say, as he was saying it right now.

"You idiot! I let you navigate for an hour while I go to have a sleep, and not only did you manage to sail us off course, you managed to get us stranded in the middle of a shark-infested ocean, and endanger our very lives! Do you realise that there're Indian pirates sailing around here hungry for European blood? They're pissed with the English, and they won't give a damn where you come from, they just want to kill you."

Thor, Loki's brother and the idiot that'd managed to get their ship lost, sighed, holding up his hands, "I'm sorry, brother! I was holding the map upside-down…" he shrugged, and grinned goofily, "But hey! At least now we can have an adventure!"

Loki was too busy worrying about his own safety, "It's official. We're going to be killed by Indian pirates. We're going to be robbed, humiliated and finally ripped limb-from-limb and then eaten. There's a rumour about that, you know! They're meant to be cannibals. Brother, we're going to be food!"

"Captain, we could do with a little help over here…" Volstagg, one of the crew wondered over, wobbling a little as he went. Loki was sure Volstagg was the reason he was forever hungry, as the man was more than just 'thick boned' as he told everyone; he was massively overweight, though no one was really sure why, as there was never much food on the ship.

"I'll be over in a minute," Thor raised his hand up in recognition.

Loki narrowed his eyes, "Brother? Volstagg was talking to the captain of this ship."

"Yes, and I am the captain," Thor answered, confused.

Laughing dryly, Loki cleared his throat a little, "I'm sorry? You're the captain? I'm sure that I was the captain of this ship, you know, seeing as father clearly told the both of us on his deathbed that 'whoever was fit to rule the ship would be it's captain'."

"Oh, Loki, Loki, Loki," Thor chuckled extremely patronisingly, "I am the older brother – of course I'm fit to be captain of this ship! I can understand the admiration you must have for me, and one day you will be as great as me! I know – it's hard to believe, isn't it? But never fear, brother, the days for you to be captain of the mighty Skidbladnir are yet to come – you have a lot to look forward to! But for the time being, you can just watch me do it."

"For God's sake – you are not the captain of this ship! You got us lost in the middle of the Indian Ocean!" Loki was waving his hands around hysterically, his voice getting higher with frustration by the second, but was cut-across by Volstagg.

"Please, captains, or whoever, just come and take a look at this. It looks to be quite urgent." The man insisted, straightening his sweaty bandana awkwardly as he watched Thor and Loki stare at each other, neither blinking. It almost looked like they were having a staring contest, for God's sake. Though soon Loki muttered curse words under his breath and stalked off below deck, telling Thor that if he fucked anything else up, then he'd be thrown overboard.

Loki was extremely pissed off. He decided just to sit in his hammock. Okay, it might be more than a little childish, but fuck he was annoyed! He and Thor had been arguing over the position of captain of the Skidbladnir for over a year now, ever since their father's death. They'd been brought up on the waters, learning the ways of pirates, being taught from Odin, their father, among many other role models. Now though, with Loki only seventeen, and Thor only just twenty the two had been quite literally been thrown in their father's ship, and been told to 'go and find a crew, and get on with it'.

Whatever 'it' was, Loki wasn't too sure though he was pretty sure he had a clearer idea than Thor. Loki had no idea what they were meant to do with the ship. It was a pirate ship, so that kind of implied that they should do pirate-esque things, though he had to admit that the crew of the Skidbladnir weren't exactly the best pirates in the world. They did a pretty good job of looking like pirates – Loki was extremely fond of his long, emerald green coat he'd managed to steal on one of their very rare, successful raids. He was also very fond of his hat, which had a huge, black feather sticking out of the top of it. Though other than their appearance, they really did suck at the pirate way of life.

For instance, every time they intended to raid a ship, Fandral always managed to chat up every woman he saw, usually ending up in the water, only to be pulled up by a rope thrown in for him by Loki. Volstagg was only interested in raiding people's kitchens and pantries, and never shared his food. As for Hogun, well, he was a pretty impressive swordsman, but with the distractions of Volstagg and Fandral he never really got around to slitting the opponent's throats, and always managed to get caught up in Volstagg and Fandral's idiotic, forever-failing strategies.

Now with those three idiots off the list of useful people, that only left Thor, Loki and Sif. Thor was extremely experienced with a sword, anyone could say that. He was just a little aimless where he swung it. Often when he engaged in 'battle' as he liked to call it, he just lost all control and hit anything that moved. It was quite an affective strategy to defeat the enemy, but it was quite dangerous if you stood near Thor, whether you were friend or foe. Loki remembered a number of times he'd almost been cut in two by his brother's blade.

Loki hated to admit it, but he was pretty much the opposite of his brother. Thor went into fight just being destructive, and not thinking about anything apart from destroying – Loki on the other hand usually spent more of his time planning the attack than actually carrying it out. He sighed to himself; he really sucked at the whole sword fighting thing, and couldn't fight for his life. He'd tried learning magic off a ship of gypsies they'd done trades with, and though he had managed to get a little spark or two to appear from the tips of his fingers, but that was about it.

As for Sif, well she was the only one who actually managed to do anything of use. She was skilled with a sword, but she also had a head on her shoulders. She was like the perfect combination of Thor and Loki – the brains of the youngest and the strength of the oldest. Sadly, as good as Sif was, she could hardly take on an entire crew of angry pirates on her own, so usually the crew of the Skidbladnir ended up being chased off the ship they were meant to be invading, and back on to their own, sailing away as fast as the wind would carry them.

The jet-black-haired teenager sighed, pulling his legs up to his chest and gritting his teeth. They really needed to up their game if they ever wanted to be taken as serious pirates. They'd already ruined their reputation their father had gained; Odin had been ruler of the seas! Everyone had feared his name, so they figured that his sons would be just as ruthless. Sadly though that was very far from the truth. Maybe it would just be better for everyone if Indian pirates just came and ate them.

"Brother, I think we could do with a bit of help here…" Thor called from above, "Really… We need your straight thinking to get us out of this mess…"

Loki growled to himself. Thor had complimented him. God they must be in deep, deep shit.

The date was 1757, and if you know your world history, then you know very well that this is probably not the best date you could choose to be alive. The world was in ruins at said time, as only a year previously; the begging of 'The Seven Years' War' broke out. Of course it wasn't called that then – they didn't know it was going to be a seven year span of bloodshed between world countries. To the citizens of the 18th century, The Seven Years' War was simply known as 'The War', which has a rather sinister feeling around it.

This is what Bruce Banner was trying to explain to Tony Stark.

"So how did the war start, Tony?" Bruce cradled his face in his hands, trying to stay as calm as he could. He'd been teaching Tony for hours, even though said pupil was only three years younger than himself.

"Because the British are bastards," Tony declared smoothly, biting on a nail absent mindedly.

Bruce sighed deeply, "Yes, we gathered that part. We all know that both you and Steve share a mutual hatred for the British Isles because they've 'taken the heart out of America' but really, you need to know about the war that is taking place around you at any moment!"

"Okay, Okay… So it has something to do with France…? And that other place that sounds like Russia…" Tony was straining his memory. At least he was trying.

"In May last year, Britain declared war against…?"

"France!"

"Yes! Finally! We're getting somewhere… Thank God…" Bruce nearly broke down crying, "And who are we allied with?"

"That Russia place that speaks German!" Tony stuck a finger in the air, pleased he knew the answer.

Bruce nodded, "Prussia, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. And then France is allied with Russia and Austria, right?"

"Yes! I'm very glad you remembered, Tony. And where are the countries we want to avoid if we don't want to get caught up in a bloodbath?"

Tony thought for a second, and then recited as if remembering from one of Bruce's many 'revision sheets' that had been made for him, "Ehh… The places where Britain is fighting France are mainly… India?"

"Correct."

"… A-Africa?" Tony squinted as the word came very strained out of his throat, worried he was going to get it wrong.

"Very good!" Bruce clapped, "Give me two more, and then you can go and waste time somewhere else."

Tony thought very hard, "Oh! America – I forgot about that…" he thought very hard for the final one, burying his face in his hands, "And all around Europe…?"

Bruce's face exploded into a smile, "You're finally learning!" he chuckled, ruffling Tony's hair, "Nice one. Go and share your new found knowledge with Steve."

"Don't patronise me! You're only three years older than me," Tony pouted childishly. Tony was only just sixteen, while Bruce was nearing nineteen. Bruce had always felt like a big brother around Tony, though Tony always made it very hard to be the little-brother type image Bruce wanted from him. If you could get Tony's constant flow of narcissism and patriotic comments about America to stop, then you could actually have a pretty decent conversation with him. Though getting Tony to shut up about himself or his home back in America was about as hard as telling the leaders of France and England to settle their differences with a game of rock paper scissors.

Bruce smiled to himself, hearing Tony's ramblings about what he'd learnt about the world to Steve. Before Bruce had finished putting away the easel which he'd drawn a very rough drawing of the world on (which, he had to admit, just looked like a series of randomly placed blobs) Steve had poked his head under deck.

"There's been a change in wind, Brucie," Steve warned, "Seems we're heading East just below Africa," he shrugged, "We could use it to our advantage and re-stock up in Australia?"

Bruce winced a little, "Bit risky, don't you think? That means passing by India…"

"Well, what's life without a little risk? Plus Tony's been itching to stab someone ever since I showed him that new sword technique…" Steve mused.

The two heard Tony calling, "I was the one that taught it to you, Steve!"

Chuckling at Tony's childish behaviour, Bruce scratched his forehead, "Fine, fine, just be careful, not only have we got to avoid the stupid war we have to be weary of God damn pirates."

"Bruce, we are pirates."

"Yeah, but at least we attack people for a reason! We're… nice pirates?" Bruce cringed at his own words, "Point taken."

"And anyway, you're mental when you get pissed – we'll be fine!" Steve grinned patting Bruce's shoulder before jumping above deck. Bruce rolled his eyes at Steve's words; Steve knew very well that Bruce had anger issues. Actually quite a few times he'd been accused of being a Viking Berserker. Berserkers were as dangerous as they sounded; according to ancient Norse they'd been extremely dangerous warriors, who fought like there was no tomorrow, and once they got pissed off then you were literally dead. Bruce did admit that he had some anger issues, but he didn't really want to go into 'trace-like rages' whenever he got a little angry.

He was currently travelling on the 'Great Ship Freedom' originally named by patriotic Americans Tony and Steve. Bruce had never actually planned to become a sailor or a pirate. He didn't really like the sea. He'd ended up on the ship as Steve had threatened him, as lovely as it sounded. Steve, captain of the ship, had been in great need of someone with at least some medical qualifications, and seeing as Bruce was one of the first people he'd found while raiding a military base, Bruce was to become his crew's doctor. Or die. His choice. Unluckily for Steve, most of his crew had been rumbled by the military and hanged for piracy.

Now the crew consisted of Steve, Bruce, Tony and a few other men along with two young girls that Tony had brought along with him, Jane Foster and Pepper Potts, two very charming young ladies that had been corrupted by the pirate ways of life, and were now no more dignified than any other men on the ship. Bruce did worry for Jane and Pepper's safety, after all, the girls were barely fifteen, and were around sexually-deprived men aged eighteen plus every day – anything could happen, really. Though, Tony and a few other members of the crew had found out the hard way that the girls kept pocket knives in their undergarments.

Oh the life of a pirate, Bruce complained to himself, though he did like the fact that they got to wear big long fancy coats. They were a perk to living an illegal life.

One of the biggest ships in all of the seven seas was the legendary ship SHIELD. No one was entirely who'd given the ship it's odd name, or why, but they knew that if they saw that combination of six letters and that if you were pissing someone on the ship off, you'd be as good as dead.

Luckily, the crew of the SHIELD didn't like being seen, so they generally sailed the cold seas of the North Atlantic Ocean, sailing around the very north of Scotland, Scandinavia and the west of Russia. Not too many people knew why, even some members of their ship didn't really know. Though everyone on every ocean knew that the Captain Fury, the twelfth captain of the SHIELD, was one person you definitely didn't want to get on the wrong side of. He was powerful, yes, he was scary, yes, and he was ruthless, big yes. But the scariest thing about Fury was that he had connections. Lots of them.

To become a member of his crew was a very hard thing to do. Not a lot of people actually intended to be members of Fury's crew; actually most of his crew had been recruited or kidnapped. The four most important members of his crew were first mate, Natalia Romanova. She didn't look too dangerous, but if people saw how many pistols she carried with her, then no one would dare come near her. There was the lookout, Clint Barton, who had been nicknamed 'Hawk', as his eyesight was scarily accurate. He wasn't the most sociable being, as he was more often than not up in the crow's nest, looking at the frozen landscape of the icy seas around them. Then there was Phil Coulson and Maria Hill, not as dangerous as Clint and Natalia, but still a deadly duo. There were numerous other members of Fury's crew, though they didn't even come close to the power his 'inner circle' had, so really at the moment, Fury didn't really pay much attention to them.

Fury had bigger fish to fry. The man had his eye on two ships that had caught his interest; the oddly named ship, Freedom, with their captain Steve Rogers, and the Skidbladnir, captained by Loki and Thor, the two brothers. Though these two ships didn't have the best swordsmen on, Fury did recognise that, perhaps, with a bit of training, the crews of the two ships could be exactly what his ship needed.

Well, only time would tell, of course. Fury sighed to himself, downing his rum. The world really was in a ruin at the moment. Hopefully the many wars would be over soon. Peace would have to come soon, surely?

If peace wasn't going to come naturally, Fury thought, then he may just have to force it to come a little quicker.

A/N

So hey! Thank you for reading first of all! :D I hope you enjoyed, and before I say anything else, I would ask you that, if you did enjoy, then I would love you so much if you did review/fave/follow. Support just shows me if people like the stuff I write~ and of course, it'd be pointless writing a fic if no one reads it, so if you want more – then tell me! XD
A few people might know me for writing my Hetalia fic 'the World Inside a Castle' (hello again if you've read that!) And I'm currently writing the sequel for it, 'Things change. Get over it.' If you are reading that, then don't worry! This fic won't interfere with my other one ^^ hopefully I can write them at parallels ^^ that is, if you guys like this fic!
So thank you very much for reading! :D A little review makes my world spin!
Over and out!