Summary: To escape an arranged marriage, Brittany Pierce sets sail in the dead of night with her attendant, Sugar. Eager to explore her new freedom, she has no idea what's about to befall her… AU. Pirate!Brittana.
Rating: ARR! (for graphic violence, language, and, of course, smut.) THERE WILL BE NO NON-CON IN THIS STORY.
Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me. If it did, it probably wouldn't suck so much.
A/N: Hello everyone! It's finally here. :) Thanks to everyone who's read any of my stories in the past, and if this is your first time cracking open one of my stories, hi there! Welcome aboard! XD
This should be a fun adventure. It won't run as long as my other story, No Solid Ground, and won't be nearly as angsty (thank the starlit heavens), but it should probably go to about 20 chapters or so. I will try and update once a week at the very least.
The setting of this story is fictional. I kind of used the Mediterranean for influence/reference, but none of the places they will go to are real. Also, since the place is fictional, the time period is also fictional. I used both real pirates and Hollywood pirates as a guide, since I didn't want to go too "arr matey" but I also didn't want to lose the fun of pirate legend. It should be a pretty balanced blend, but we shall see. I'll also try not to go too deep into ship terms, because I think it takes away from the story if you have to constantly be like "wtf is starboard?" and such.
As always, if you have questions, my inbox is always open, both on here or on tumblr (xandylytex) so feel free to drop me a line!
Things you can expect from this story: sword-fighting; monster hunting; Brittana romance; pirating/stealing, obvs; treasure hunting; lots of sailing; whorehouses; ship battles; cannons; and other shit.
Well, that being said, I hope you enjoy the prologue.
Fair sailing! 8)~
Prince Rory Flannigan isn't too terribly ugly. Though plain-featured and rather boring, he is not awful to look at, and, being so not-awful to look at, his company is not immediately rejected- on most days. He is well-mannered and polite, but his accent is exceedingly difficult to understand, and his childlike naivety (which borders so often on stupidity the two are sometimes interchangeable) combined with his young age make him entirely unfit to be a decent husband. He is, essentially, a boy.
Which is why Brittany Pierce finds it utterly infuriating that her father, Duke Charles, has deemed it necessary that she marry him.
"But he is not a suitable husband!" she exclaims, trying to break through her sire's unfailing stubbornness.
Brittany has lived with her father on his estate for the entirety of her life. Her mother, she has been told, was involved in some scandal, the topic of which is forbidden from conversation, when she was the tender age of seven. Consequently banished because of it, her mother was never heard from again, and Brittany only wishes she knew what, exactly, her crime was, if only not to be doomed to commit it herself. (Are not those sorts of things hereditary?) Her upbringing was facilitated by servants, nannies, and even one of her father's many mistresses, along with her father himself. She has never wanted for anything, being quite pampered and very well provided for over the span of her lifetime, though she is the middle child, having both an older brother and a younger sister.
However, being so pampered- but not to the result of spoilage- Brittany can not and adamantly refuses to succumb to such ill-received terms of marriage. "Father, please see reason."
"Reason, my dove?" the Duke teases, an amused smirk playing at his lips. He is a man who has ruled over his vast territory, flaunting his power and clout appointed to him by royalty. He has lived in privilege all his life, the most current in a long line of many power-hungry, self-important men before him, and he rules his estate and sequent lands with firm fairness. He cares for his daughter- and all his children, really- but for her troubles- be they of marriage or otherwise- he cares not. What does she know of trouble, having lived in the lap of luxury all her life?
"You have listed many reasons why you do not care for the Flannigan boy, yet none of them will change my mind," he states, entertained by his daughter's obvious distress. "Do you abhor the color green?"
Rolling her eyes, Brittany sighs. "You know that I do not. It is my favorite color-"
"Then this is truly a match made in Heaven!" The Duke laughs and slaps his hand on his thigh for emphasis. "In fact-" he waves over his personal attendant, who sports a puff of wiry, frizzy hair and teeth like that of a rabbit's. "Jacob, take that down. Lady Brittany adores the color green-"
"Father-"
"-and will be wed to Prince Rory only if he is adorned in such a color!"
"Yes, sire!" Jacob nods, hurrying to jot down the Duke's words.
"Jacob, do not write that. I will do no such thing!"
The Duke's humor falls instantly, and Brittany swallows at his sudden and drastic change in attitude. "Now, my dear, I've been a good sport," he starts lowly, his blue eyes narrowing into cold, flinty slits. "I've sat here quietly and listened to your every complaint about the Flannigan boy, indulged in your girlish fantasy of what you suppose your husband should be, and now you will do me the same courtesy. You will find no better than Prince Rory, and even if you did, it would not matter. I am your father; I will decide your future, and you will abide by me."
"But-"
"Enough, Brittany. No more of this. You will marry Prince Rory and that is final. Am I making myself clear?"
Brittany takes a slow, deep breath through her nose, swallowing down the panic she feels welling up inside her at being so firmly commanded to do something that goes against her every wish. She clenches her fist tightly by her side, willing herself to hold her tongue, before nodding firmly, submitting.
The Duke's smile returns instantly, the glint reappearing in his blue eyes. "Grand. Now go and get ready for supper. I hear that Chef Couter is cooking your favorite."
Without another word, Brittany turns on her heel and flees to her room. The Duke watches her go without a single shred of remorse; because what's best for his daughter is what's best for him.
"Oh, Brittany, it will be all right," Sugar, Brittany's personal attendant, soothes, rubbing comforting circles on the crying blonde's back while she weeps into her pillow. It is after dinner, and the reality of her situation has begun to sink in.
"How, Sugar?" Brittany sobs dramatically, lifting her face from her damp pillowcase to cast a mournful look at her attendant. "My father refuses to see the error of his ways. My fate is sealed. I am to wed that- th-that-" She dissolves into another round of sobbing as Sugar hushes her, her hand still continuing its circular motion.
"Okay, you're right. It probably won't. But- he can't be as bad as you've come to learn," Sugar reassures. "And besides- you will have me beside you, to continue to care for your needs."
"But eventually he will want to- to-" Brittany shudders violently. "I cannot even think it. Perhaps I can acquire a chastity belt, and throw away the key."
Sugar chuckles. "Perhaps. Although, if you do meet someone worthy, you will need quite the locksmith."
Brittany grins. "Perhaps, when I meet him, he will be a locksmith."
"We can only hope for such a lucky fate."
Brittany's smile fades. "Thank you for attempting to cheer me, Sugar, but unfortunately, these are silly fantasies that will never take hold in the real world. I am to wed Prince Rory and I have no other option." She feels more tears springing to her eyes and swallows down the lump in her throat, trying to stave off the constricting feeling. Her stomach twists at the thought of losing her freedom forever. Knowingly, Sugar pulls Brittany against her and strokes calming fingers through her hair. Brittany settles against her shoulder, feeling equal parts soothed and depressed.
"I always thought that when I married, it would be for love," Brittany confesses softly, a fresh tear making its trek down her cheek. "Not to cement some senseless contract to secure more land or more power. I thought I meant more than that to my father."
"No," Sugar says honestly, but then at Brittany's gasp, she amends, "I'm sure he only wants what's best for you, Britt."
"How can what's best for me make me so miserable?"
Sugar opens her mouth to answer, when a knock at the door startles her. Brittany quickly sits up, wiping her tears, as the Duke enters her bedchamber and Sugar exits to allow them some privacy. Keeping her back to her father, Brittany crosses her arms tightly against her chest. She will not show him weakness.
"Bumblebee," her father starts, setting a hand on her shoulder, "It pains me to see you so upset. I am sorry for being harsh with you earlier, truly I am. I am only trying to ensure you have a future, sweetness. Please, do not be cross with me."
"I am old enough to decide my own future, Father," Brittany says sharply, pulling away from his hand.
The Duke laughs. "Oh, darling. You are so young, and so naïve. You think you know something about what's out there, but you do not. I have kept you safe and protected, and now I must pass you on to a man who will do the same. With Prince Rory you will never have to worry. He will provide for you and take care of you, and someday when your brother returns from the war-"
"He will not," Brittany grumps.
"Hold your tongue," the Duke snaps. "He will return and rule in my place, and unite the two territories under his leadership."
"If he is to do all this, then why is it that you need me to marry?"
"I already told you, Dear One- to ensure you are taken care of."
"I can take care of myself!" Brittany snarls, pulling away. "I am not helpless!"
"Brittany," the Duke says, his voice taking on a hard edge, "do not be stupid. You have lived on this estate all your life. You cannot even dress yourself without your servants. Do not be so bold as to presume you are capable of doing anything on your own."
Brittany bites her lip, feeling her tears return at her father's harsh words. I'm not stupid, she thinks. "I'm not stupid," she whispers out loud, and her father laughs.
"Prove it, then. Marry Prince Rory and make a future for yourself. Do your duties as my daughter. You have no other choice." With that, he stands and leaves, and Brittany collapses into another fit of crying onto the bed. Moments later, Sugar rushes in, gathering the blonde into her arms and quieting her mournful sobs.
Once Brittany has cried herself out, Sugar gets up from the bed, checks the room, and, once satisfied, locks the door.
"Sugar, what-"
"Quiet now, Britt, we must talk quickly before we're discovered," she hisses, and Brittany's so surprised, she snaps her mouth shut and listens, her blue eyes wide with intrigue. After one deep, dramatic breath, Sugar raises her eyes to Brittany's and smiles.
"I think I've figured out a way for you to escape your marriage to Prince Rory."
Samson Evans is not the smartest man in the employ of the Duke, but he is the most loyal. He came into his position quite by accident, acquiring it from the former Captain of the Guard after witnessing some illegal dealings by him. Being the type of man with strong morals, he immediately reported those dealings to the Duke, and as a reward, Sam was given the position of Captain. He is young, having seen only a few more summers than Brittany, but he has served the Duke faithfully since he came of age and took up arms.
He is skilled and very well-trained; he prides himself in keeping his body in top physical condition. He also has (and has had for years) quite the eye for the Duke's daughter. He's spent every chance he could get spending time with her, watching over her on those rare occasions when she needed to leave the Estate to venture into town, and genuinely admiring her obvious beauty from afar- her blue eyes, her blonde hair, her slim, toned body. He does not think highly of her intelligence, but he likes that about her. She is simpler than he is, and though he understands only half of what she says, he finds her idiotic mumblings rather endearing. Often he has dreamed of making her his wife, but he knows that she is promised to another man; he knows his boundaries.
Still. His feelings remain.
And it is those very same feelings that drive him to meet with Brittany and Sugar on this dark, tranquil evening.
"You're certain you can guarantee safe passage to Argo?" Brittany demands in a hushed whisper. Sugar had snatched her, in the dead of night, to steal away from her father's mansion and make the journey down to the Estate wall. Now, shrouded in a black, hooded cloak, she stands under the cover of darkness by the tall, stone wall encasing the grounds of the mansion, conversing with a man she believes to be a friend.
"I am certain," Sam reassures, nodding stiffly. "I know these waters well, My Lady. You will be safe, and we will be in Argo in less than a week. I swear it."
"Then guide me away, Captain Evans," Brittany says with a wry, relieved grin. "I do not wish to remain here and have my life stolen from me."
"Of course, My Lady. I have our transportation waiting. Follow me." Sam turns, then pauses. He twists back and boldly slips his hand into Brittany's. Their eyes meet, and Brittany reassures him with a friendly smile. Though she finds it odd that Sam has taken her hand, she is not one to throw around her authority.
And, she reminds herself, you are going to live among normal people soon. It is time you forgot your title and your formalities and simply embraced the blessed simplicity of an ordinary life.
Smiling wider, Brittany squeezes Sam's hand and allows the blonde-haired man to lead her, along with Sugar, who carries a satchel of their belongings, out of the Estate. She feels safe with his large, warm hand in hers. Sam has always been kind to her, and he is doing her a great service- one that may get him banished, or at worst, killed, should they be discovered- and she is eternally grateful. She makes sure to keep her face obscured with the hood on her cloak as Sam guides her around a building and to a very small carriage, which she and Sugar board silently.
Once inside, her heart pounds. She's really doing this. Sugar watches her, her eyes bright, her expression anxious but hopeful. She smiles, and Brittany smiles back. She's really doing this. She stares out of the small window in her carriage, listening to the fast-paced clopping of hooves as the pony maneuvers down the worn, dirt road, and watches the dark trees go by. She's never actually been completely off of her father's lands. But now, as the mansion grows smaller and smaller in the distance, she feels her nerves picking up and her stomach twisting with excitement.
She can taste the barest hint of freedom.
No forced marriage. No Rory. No rules.
Brittany Pierce is nineteen years old, and she feels like her life has finally begun.
When the carriage stops and Sam tugs the small door open, offering his hand to her, they have arrived at the harbor. Brittany accepts his assistance and steps down, nearly losing her balance as she takes in the sight before her. Her blue eyes widen, her mouth opening in awe at the huge ship, situated less than twenty yards away. A long, ribbed plank is her only means of boarding the monstrous wooden vessel, and as Sam leads her around the carriage and guides her to it, Brittany feels her excitement hitting her full force. She's never seen a ship in person, or even been to the harbor, so the towering mast and sails illuminated by lamps have her staring around in wonder.
"Let us go, Brittany, before we are discovered," Sugar reminds her, and, nodding, Brittany carefully climbs up the wooden ramp and into the vast ship. When her feet touch the deck, she takes in her surroundings, trying to observe the uniformed crew as they hurry around, preparing for launch. Sam moves to talk to another ranking officer- one Brittany does not recognize, nor has any knowledge about what he or any of the other crew member's jobs are. She watches, fascinated by the workings of the ship, listening to their shouts. After several moments, the new ranking officer gives Sam a stiff nod, and waves his hand.
"Cast the lines!"
A few men on the dock untie the many mooring lines securing the ship to it, and after a few more shouted commands that she doesn't understand, the great ship is moving, and Brittany's heart skips a beat. The wind is strong as it fills the huge sails, and Brittany views it as a good luck omen. Perhaps Fate is on her side. She inhales the smell of the salt and the caress of the cool night breeze on her face, and smiles. She knows it sounds cheesy, but she feels as if a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders. By the time her father has discovered her gone, she, Sugar and Sam will be well on their way to Argo, hopefully without leaving a trace as to their whereabouts.
Steady footsteps on the sturdy wooden deck catch her attention, and she turns from the sight of the dark waves and the harbor to find Sam approaching her slowly. He stands next to her against the railing, placing his hands on the wooden beam, and studies the waves quietly for a moment before speaking.
"The waters are calm and the winds are strong. We will make good time before morning."
Brittany swallows. "Do you think Father will pursue us?"
"Where?" Sam asks gently. "He has no idea where we have gone- not even the harbor crew know our actual destination. I have given them false information to prevent being tailed. We have made all the necessary preparations. He will not know where to pursue us to."
Brittany nods absently, chewing her lip. She imagines her father and how furious he will be once he discovers her gone. And Sugar. And Sam-
"Have no fear, Brittany," Sam says, interrupting her worried thoughts and giving her a reassuring smile. "I won't let any harm befall you. You will be safe with me- I will protect you with my life."
"I know, Sam," Brittany says softly. "I am grateful you have risked so much to save me from my fate."
"It would pain me very much to see you miserable, Britt," Sam says seriously, and Brittany tries not to frown at the nickname he has given her. Only Sugar shortens her name in such a way, but she supposes she shall have to get used to it. "You should be free to marry whomever you choose," he continues, and Brittany realizes he's still talking and tunes back in just in time to find him staring at her, his eyes hopeful but longing. She watches his throat move as he swallows, and her stomach twists with a sinking dread as she realizes he is nervous, and she hopes it is not for the reason she thinks-
"Actually, Britt," he starts, gathering his courage. He straightens his shoulders and slides his hand across the ship rail, laying his fingers against hers. Brittany's stomach twists further. "There is something I want to talk to you about."
"Is it about our food rations?" Brittany asks, keeping her voice steady and trying to deter the conversation. "Because Sugar told me a story once about a ship's crew that was marooned on a deserted island because of a storm and they resorted to eating each other, and I just want you to know that-"
"No, Brittany, it's not about the food," Sam says firmly. He takes another deep breath as Brittany waits, her heart pounding with anxiety. "When we arrive to Argo, I had wondered- well, hoped- that you might consider me in your future."
"Of course, Sam, you are part of my personal guard," Brittany answers, keeping her face straight. She does not want to have this conversation. Inside, her mind is panicking. She needs Sam. He's like a brother to her, and the only reason she's even on this ship. But she doesn't want him to back her into a corner, and the last thing she wants is another man forcing her into some sort of relationship-
"Well, yes, I am-"
"Then you will always be in my future." She hopes that's a good answer.
"Yes, that is true," Sam agrees, shaking his head slowly and finding no fault in her reasoning. Except- "But I was hoping I might be in your future as more of a- well, more romantic sort of-"
"Sam, you are sweet," Brittany says with a genuine smile. She struggles to come up with the words that will let him down gently. "And-"
"My Lady, pardon me," the ranking officer from earlier interrupts, and Brittany turns to catch his eye. His dark hair is slicked back and he has thick eyebrows. But he is not unattractive, and he really couldn't have interrupted at a better time. Brittany holds in her sigh of relief. She nods in acknowledgement, and the man turns to Sam. "Captain, we are approaching the border."
Sam sighs. "Thank you, Anderson." He looks at Brittany. "Fetch Sugar and stay below deck until I send for you. I must explain the reason why we have left the boundaries of your father's territory. Lynn," he calls, and a man saunters over. He is young and also attractive, but Brittany doesn't find him particularly interesting. "Please escort Miss Pierce and her attendant to their stateroom."
"It's about time," Sugar mumbles, sidling up beside them. She shoulders the large satchel of belongings she carries on her shoulder and places a hand on her hip.
Brittany thanks Sam lightly and then Lynn leads them away under Sam's protective gaze. Once the two women disappear down the stairs, he waits with a stony face as their ship dutifully approaches the smaller boat on patrol at the border.
It's still several days to Argo. He must play his cards right if they are to make it through the many dangers that lie in wait for them along the way.
Two Nights Later
x
Santana Lopez has been an outlaw for as long as she can remember. Living in poverty on the streets wasn't the easiest life, but her parents did the best they could to provide for her. Every day, her father would try and find work on the docks near their village. He had been a sailor earlier in his life, but when his country lost the War they had been fighting and they were swallowed by the new conquering sovereign, it was hard to work with such a service in his background. He was ridiculed and treated with disrespect for having fought on the opposing side, so work- especially decent, steady work- was very hard to come by. Which left her family, like so many other natives, struggling to survive.
Her father was very knowledgeable about sailing because of his background in the armada, and he taught her everything he could. He explained to her about the rigging, the process for casting a ship, and various forms of knots. Sometimes he would bring home torn gillnets or trawls that he would fix for an extra profit, and she would help him mend or replace the ropes, working long into the night together.
In the mornings, he would travel by foot to the docks in the hopes that he would be able to take up a daily job on a schooner or some other fishing boat.
One day, he never returned.
Santana had always wondered if he was lost at sea, or if he simply found a good job and had to leave right away. She and her mother waited with high hopes for his return. Maybe he found work on a whaling ship, they'd said. And he will return with a pocket full of money, and we will finally have a place of our own.
After a few months of waiting, they gave up their optimistic way of thinking. He was never coming back.
With her father gone, the responsibility to support them fell to her mother, but her limited skill set which included the mending of clothes and linens combined with the fact that her accent was spat upon was not enough to put food on the table. Most days, they starved. Until one day, her mother never returned home. Santana found out later from other villagers that her mother was accused of theft and immediately executed by the corrupt police, and no one thought twice about it. It was a common occurence, but that did not make it any less devastating for Santana, and did not help her abandonment issues.
She was eleven, and she was on her own.
She knew she could never get a job as a deck hand- not as a girl, anyways. She hid her gender, charmed the crew of a merchant ship, and landed herself a fulltime job as a swabby, keeping to herself but proving her worth several times over by displaying her knowledge of rigs and knots, passed down by her father. It was a good gig- one that provided well for her. She enjoyed the company of her fellow able-bodied sailors and though her cut of the profits was miniscule at best, she never went without food and she had a place to stay. She was content.
And then her ship was captured by pirates.
The entire crew was executed in the chaos of defending their haul from the savages, who were notorious for their bloodthirstiness and willingness to attack any ship within their borders. Being small, young, and crafty, Santana continued her masquerade as a boy, and when she was discovered in the hull by the pirates, the Captain- known as "The Terror of the Seas" (yes, she rolled her eyes a little)- decided to spare her life, and she was granted the title of Cabin Boy on her new ship.
She couldn't believe her luck at having been allowed to live, and especially on board a pirate ship. The pay, while still small, was even better than the merchant ship she'd been on, and her rules were lax so long as she did her job. However, the Captain was worse than any pirate story she'd ever been told by her father, and more brutal than she'd heard snatches of from her former merchant shipmates. He regularly keelhauled his enemies, which is part of what earned him his vicious reputation. Santana made extra sure she never did anything to cross him.
Perhaps the best thing to come out of being integrated with the pirates was her friendship with Puck, who was nicknamed after a prankster in a famous play due to his similar mischievous nature. He was only a few years older than her, and had served on a military ship as a Cabin Boy before it had been attacked and he'd been acquired- much in the same way she had been. He was the Powder Monkey of their pirate ship, and his job was to run gunpowder from the hull to the cannons during a fight. Both being so much younger than the rest of the crew, they instantly bonded, and spent years together as friends serving on the pirate ship- until it came up against the law. The crew was mostly annihilated in the battle, leaving only a few aboard the wreckage once the smoke cleared.
The Quartermaster, who was even more brutal than the Captain, somehow survived, and was next to take over the remains of the ship, but Santana and Puck were in agreement that they weren't going to let that happen. Together with a few other crew members, they mutinied and took control of what was left of the badly-damaged ship, ran a few easy cargo errands to earn money, and after a while, sold the parts and bought a new ship. They employed the crewmembers most loyal to them, acquired others through their travels, and now, here they are.
Santana's been at Puck's side almost as long as she's been a pirate, and normally, she looks up to him- likes him, even.
Except when he's being an idiot. Which is usually.
"I'm telling you, Dia- it's real," Puck insists, and Santana rolls her eyes, diverting her attention back down to the apple that she's carefully peeling with a knife. It's dark, but the moonlight and the small lamp they have on the deck nearby casts enough of a glow for her to see what she's doing. The water is calm and the weather is warm. She loves nights like this- she just hates that she has to spend this particular one listening to the ramblings of her addle-brained Captain.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" she snaps. "It changes the meaning when you shorten it-"
"As many times as I've ignored you," Puck says with a grin that infuriates her. She releases an exasperated breath, wipes her knife on her pants and tucks it back into her boot. "I'm not foolin' this time, though. This thing is real. I have it on good authority."
"Hah," she laughs. "On whose authority?"
"If I tell you, you'll doubt me."
"Then I already smell horseshit."
"Come on. I'm being serious."
"So am I."
"Santana…"
She huffs, taking a bite of her apple- she's rather fond of them, and it's rare she gets to have one- and rolling her eyes. "Even if I believed you- which, I fucking don't- how in Hades are we going to get our hands on it? That map has got to be under serious lock and key; and suppose we do get it? How the fuck do we even read it? I doubt even Specs is capable of translating that bosh."
"Don't be such a croaker," Puck mumbles. "We'll figure it out as we go. We always d-"
"SHIP, HO!"
Santana sits up suddenly, her attention piqued as the small amount of lighting around them on the ship is immediately doused, shrouding them in darkness. Her eyes catch Puck's and they share a knowing look, then quickly move to the gunwales at the edge of the upper deck. Lifting his small spyglass to his face, Puck scans the horizon, searching for the promised ship, and-
"Holy Mother of Sin, do you see what I see?" He demands, shoving the spyglass at Santana. She glares at him briefly before lifting it to her eye, but once she spots it out on the dark horizon, there's no mistaking the sight that greets her. She grins.
"A noble Lycan ship… what could it possibly be carrying, so late at night-"
"And so alone?" Puck finishes with a wicked laugh.
She shoves the spyglass back at Puck and narrows her eyes. "Whatever it is, it must be extremely valuable. They take a great risk."
"Well then I think our duty here is clear, eh?"
Santana nods. "Aye. That ship won't even see us coming. Whatever they're carrying is ours."
Oouu... what do you guys think Santana's gonna find on that ship? XD
Review if you feel like it! If not, it's okay, I'll catch you on the next voyage!
keelhauling is a form of punishment in which a person is dragged underneath the back of a ship (or the keel), under the water, from one side of the ship to the other. It's especially painful because the barnacles and shit stuck to the bottom pretty much rip you open and then saltwater gets in there and you can't breathe and yikes. You dead.
prince is used as its original rank/title (similar to Duke or Baron or whatever) and not as the son of a king (As in Prince Charming. XD)