Slow burn-ish White Rose with possible additions of your favorite (or hated) pairings on the side. Rated M for graphic violence and blood depiction, planned smuts (it's omegaverse, duh) , sensitive topics and more.

More like Horatio Hornblower series than Pirates of Caribbean, considering the only fantasy element in this story is the bizarre alpha/beta/omega system and anachronistic technological and sociological advances. And maybe too Navy-like than piratey here.

One

Mooring

"Ah, we got the weather gage's favor, ma'am!"

She nodded, agreeing with her first lieutenant. Her snow-white hair, held in off-center low ponytail, flew forward riding the breeze. The wind blew straight from the stern to the bow and pushed the Atlas Imperial Navy frigate running on the wind with her famous agility. Their homebound sail would be a quick one and, if heavens allowed, the frigate would be able to dock before sunset.

Crews of the watch duty lounged, oversaw by officers in charge who looked equally lulled by the breezy calm. Let them be, the snow-haired captain mused, Myrtenaster had been circling around the waters for straight three weeks, an exhausting timespan for a simple routine patrol. Everyone on board had been looking forward to smooth travel ashore and the dry land under their feet.

Not only restoring her crew's morale, there was a necessity to replenish their logistics with fresh batch free of crawling infestations. Sights of maggots and weevils on ration biscuits were unsightly—even after years being used to have them as unwanted guests inside her meal.

Then a scampering deckhand scurried and broke the tranquility, squeaking the relayed message from the crow's nest.

"Pirates! Pirates off starboard bow!"

She took the spyglass from her first lieutenant and spied through the distance. A two-masted vessel was coming to their way in full sail.

"A small schooner with a plain black flag, most likely just a low-time scoundrel."

"Surely we'll make a short work of them, Captain! Speed and firepower, Myrtenaster have advantage on both!"

"I appreciate your confidence, Flynt, but one can't be too cautious," she said through her good-natured smile. Marching along the upper deck, thumps of her boots sent officers and seamen running to their positions, ready for her command.

"Starboard side, load the guns!"

xxxx

I think it's blessing from heavens to have us mooring at Patch right on your birthday, Mom! Summer's been stormy as usual, but today is very clear and sunny. Our sailing has been a fast and smooth one for almost a week. No fancy boarding to write down here, just couple of small-time merchants and pirates. Oh! We get some nice Mistralian silk and tasty exotic fruits from Vacuo! Sun loves those fruits so much, I bet Yang will love them too, but too bad we can't bring the batch we got to Patch in time before they got bad. Maybe next time?

Sometimes I dream of sailing in Crescent Rose together with you, Mom. The sea is so vast and blue, it's prettier than in the stories you told me. But sometimes it makes me feel… lonely. I know I have Uncle Qrow and the merry crews of Crescent Rose, but without you it's different.

Nay! I won't mope around today! Because finally I can celebrate your birthday with you, Mom!

A mop of crimson-tipped black hair jerked softly as captain's quarter door creaked open.

"Getting comfy there, kiddo?"

"Yeah," she grinned and closed her journal with her ink-stained hand.

"Come and chill on the deck. We're going ashore soon."

Ruby nodded with a small yelp of 'yep!' and burst out to the deck.

Her silver eyes gleamed in joy as the fresh breeze of summer ocean greeted her. Cool sweeps of air cleave through her hair, crisp but slightly wet, coming from soft underlying tone of summer's storm residue. The sailors of Crescent Rose shared the same jollity under the sun and the fully blowing sails. They hailed the lass in red hood, in cahoots with her antics under the sun.

Some eyed her with more than mere cordiality, but a flash of her sheathed cutlass and sickle-sword was enough to flush out any intentions of misdeeds from their skulls and crotches.

Standing on the jutting bowsprit, she could spectate green lump of an island afar. Her smile grew impossibly wider as the green lump grow bigger and bigger in her horizon of view. The green now dotted with other colors, undistinguishable at first, but slowly taking blurry shapes of buildings and trees and all.

Then, that green lump became her home in her eyes.

Crescent Rose flitted past the last furloughs of water and waves, reefed her sails and moored at the main port of Patch. The noise of dockworkers, sailor and seamen flocking the docks, caws of seagulls that flew and dive in hope for morsels of fishes; they were like a fanfare to her ears that welcomed her.

She literally skipped the gangway and just jump from the deck, landing on the pier with a flair made by her red cape. Qrow chuckled and followed suit with ambling steps along the gangway—the rum and vodka started to get him walking not-so-straight again.

"Careful, Uncle! You don't want to fall to the water!" Ruby laughed.

The dark-haired privateer chuckled as he made it across safely and quickly caught up with his niece's speedy pace despite his drunkenness.

"Yang might be out somewhere at work, but your dad's home, I reckon. He must've been dying to meet you after so long."

"I know, but…" she paused in the middle, her voice suddenly shifted a volume lower. "I... don't really look forward to meet Dad?"

"Why is that?"

"…Just because? Uhh, is that make me a horrible daughter?"

Ruby waited for a response and got none. Qrow was always drunk, but also always sharp. Perhaps the hullabaloo of the docks drowned her voice, or his reply never reached her ears. It didn't matter, anyways—the less her father was talked about, the better. She was here to relish her time at her hometown Patch in peace, after all.

Patch is the biggest and most fertile island of Hunter's Isles, its namesake town is one of biggest trading hub connecting the three archipelagoes and one of many sources of dispute between Atlas Empire and Kingdom of Vale.

Personally? Ruby had no allegiance nor preference between two feuding nations, but Qrow—just like any privateers—would side to one with most gold, best gunpowder and tastiest rum. Atlesian rum is shit, their beer is worse, and I'm not a fan of their fancy wine, the dusty crow-like privateer once said to her, but Vale is the poorer of the two devils—poor sods with even poorer gold and gunpowder!

Again, their options as privateers weren't that limited to serving nations seeking naval domination. Local government and trading companies also sought privateers' service, whether it was a sea escort duty or certain things not exactly legal, and would pay handsomely for any jobs done well.

There was a reason Ruby revered Qrow Branwen. No matter how mouthwatering the prizes were, he wouldn't accept a job of merciless seaborne slaughter sponsored by greedy trading companies or local tyrants. Instead, he'd hunt down pirates hired by them before more victims fell, although all the bounties and cargoes found would be claimed as his regardless the true legal owner was.

The pirates' pirate, and the great and dearest mentor of Ruby, Qrow was.

They walked in no hurry, but soon they found themselves only few yards away from a two-storey house with walls of wood and stone. The house stood on top of the hill overseeing the sea and port town, offering fantastic view that filled most of Ruby's childhood memories.

Everything was still fresh in her mind, how her mother would sit down with her to watch the sunset and lulled her with tales of high water adventures and legends of the sea. Or when her sister and she playfully fought each other to determine who got the first turn to spy the ships afar with the spyglass gifted by their Uncle Qrow.

Years passed and Ruby was no longer that little girl in red hood who dreamed of open seas. Her dreams were no longer a girl's mere musing, but real waves and tides reflected on her silver eyes as Crescent Rose rode the wild waters.

At the doorstep, a man of sand-colored hair smiled gleefully upon their arrival.

"Rubes! You're home!"

Before Ruby could move she was already trapped by her father's hug. She reciprocated his gesture of affection and hugged back, albeit not with the same warmth as his.

Spicy scent, like cloves dried under the sun, filled her nose. Almost like sunny fragrance her sister had, but the sharper overtone set apart their resemblances. It wasn't the scent she missed.

Qrow leaned against the doorframe, not really interested to come in. "How do ye do, Tai."

The sandy blonde smiled at Qrow with his eyes cooled from their gleam, staring at dull red ones. "Same to you too."

"I'll be downtown, restocking for Crescent Rose," slurred Qrow before taking a swig of his rum-vodka mix and left the house.

Thus there were only two left, both wearing smiles—one was of a glee, one of a discomfort.

"When Yang will come home?"

"Any time before the sunset, I guess. I heard Junior's fight club is taking some days off."

Ruby nodded. She let her eyes roam about, doing anything to minimize eye contact with her father. After less than comfortable seconds of silence she went upstairs before her father could start any further conversation.

Settling herself on her old bed, Ruby let herself relieve in warmth of home and memories. Of gentle scent of summer's roses and warm embraces that cradled her to sleep.

She took a book from the wall shelf, her fingers raking the book's spine with a fond smile. Years passed and this book was still like how it was in her mother's hand. Rosemary and sage flowers. Parsley and thyme. Roses. Her fingers gently stroked the pressed flowers and herb inside the book, the lingering ghosts of sweet fragrance reminded her of the warmth of her mother.

Make beautiful memories last, just like how you press the roses, Ruby.

"I've made lots of memories with Crescent Rose, Mom," she hummed while caressing a pressed rose lovingly, underneath it was a tale of Sinbad getting shipwrecked in his journey. "Lots of tales that will give Sinbad a run for his money!"

With a smile, Ruby put the book back and went downstairs. She still needed to visit her mother.

However, before she could reach the door, it was already slammed open with nearly hinge-splitting force.

"Uncle Qrow—?"

"Scamper back to the ship, kiddo!" the privateer grunted between his ragged breath. "Schnee's scurvied seahounds is shitting our ship!"

"But I haven't stocked my herbs and Yang—!"

"My lads have just purchased and loaded 'em to Crescent Rose, enough to stall your heat for a year. You're going to meet Yang again soon, I promise!"

Ruby was still bewildered when her body followed Qrow out of semi-automatic response. She wasn't sure if it was her father that called her to come back on the background, she just started running with her uncle.

Distant echoes of gunshots came from the direction of the port and made their run even more frantic. Even when the port wasn't that far, if they relied on their legs' gallops alone they might not make it.

And just in time for a farmer's cart to innocently passing them. Ruby sprinted and leaped to the driver's seat, snatching the reins and shoved the farmer off his cart. Qrow jumped to the back of the cart, knocking crates of carrots and tomatoes over.

"Sorry! We'll make up for this soon, mister!" Ruby shouted over her shoulder and whipped the horses to rush.

When they arrived, the port was in disarray. Blades clashed and gunshots hooted with no care to the damage surrounding. Crews of Crescent Rose defending her from invasion of Schnee's hired muscles, both at the docks and aboard the brig.

Ruby hurled herself straight to the fray and struck down one of them, hooking his neck with her sickle-sword and slashed his chest with her cutlass. Blood loss from cuts of his neck and chest was enough to knock him dying.

"Bitch! Go die!" roared a man, his axe slammed down with eagerness to chop her shoulder.

Ruby easily sidestepped, came in too close for his effective range and swung her cutlass severing his neck artery. The fountain of blood was a fearful sight enough to scare a small score of thugs nearby to drop their weapons and ran with their tail between their legs. She let out a growl of disgust as some of his blood splattered to her beloved hooded cape.

She continued to fight against the carnage, focusing her strike not to kill but just enough to buy her a safe passage to the ship. Qrow had been ahead, fighting his way to clear the gangway from the rogues.

"Ruby! Quick, to the ship!" He shouted and kicked a guy from the gangplank.

Ruby made her run and her lithe body easily flitted through the mess of fighting. However, a big man stood between her and the gangplank. She didn't slow down nor she was intimidated with his barreled chest and beastly cutlass. Instead, she accelerated straight head-on and used the speed to propel her on top of a pile of container crates. She maintained her momentum and hopped to his shoulder, using it as her leverage to launch forward and avoided his unintelligent sword bash.

"So long, big loser!" Ruby cheekily stuck her tongue out. She landed on the last half of the gangplank to the ship and quickly ran to the brig's deck.

"Get the anchor up, damn ye slowpokes!" Qrow roared and a score of crews scrambled and manned the capstan to haul the anchor up.

Ruby occupied one of the swivel guns and fired canister shots, halting the rogues at bay with its shotgun-like spread. She could stop those who were foolish enough to stand at the pier or rushing through the gangway by feeding them with hot bullets, but some found went through roundabout way and tried to get onto the ship by climbing on her side from the water. The goons who succeeded to board, still, was met by heavy resistance by the crews.

Once the anchor had been cleared from the seabed, the ship wheels turned and the brig trudged to turn away from the dock. With all sails unfurled and all the last scallywags dispatched, Crescent Rose started to crawl along the wind, trudging away from the port and the Schnee-hired rogues.

Ruby watched from the quarterdeck as the ship sailed. The great island of Patch slowly diminished into green lump behind the stern, smaller and smaller until it was no more on her horizon.

Her silver eyes gleamed from the suffocation inside.

"I'm really sorry, lass," Qrow sighed beside her. "You've been looking forward to meet your mom and your sister for really long."

It wasn't easy, but the silver-eyed girl managed to pry a wry smile—and choke back the tears. "As long as the sun still rises and sets, I can meet Mom and Yang anytime. You've given Mom the roses, haven't you, Uncle?"

"Aye, I have. This year, though, somehow the roses aren't as red as it used to." He let out a mirthless chuckle. "I hope I didn't disappoint her."

She nodded gently and retreated to captain's cabin. She took the quill and penned more inks on the brownish page of her journal.

And again, another birthday passed.

I'm so sorry Mom, for I can't meet you and Yang again. But at least you still have the roses. Please don't scold Uncle Qrow? He's not the one to blame for the roses hehe.

Happy birthday Mom, I miss you.

xxxxx

INS Myrtenaster docked proudly, even with her foremast topsail torn by cannonballs' ruse and the headsail flapped awkwardly after its cable plucked away from the bowsprit.

Weiss was quite upset to have the frigate damaged just before her patrol ended, but the damage was far outweighed by what they gained. The pirate schooner, although not worth much of a prize, was captured easily. The reparation for sustained damage would gave her and her crew some more time to rest before they had Myrtenaster's anchor aweigh again for another long patrol.

After short discussion with the ship's purser regarding logistics and available budgets, she got off the ship to the docks. Briskly passing the hustle-bustle, she made her way to her regular place to wind back from her seaborne duties. The bar was a rather high-class establishment, a favorite lounging spots for Navy captains, masters of merchant vessels and general wealthy patrons. A place for her to enjoy her liquor without noises and bar fights of drunken poor sailors.

The bartender smiled at her cordially, welcoming her with short pleasantries and gave her the usual: light white wine.

It had been a sort of ritual of hers, sipping white wine every time she got chances to step on dry land. White to balance red. White wine to wash away the stench of blood soaked in seawater—sweet phlegm to balance and cleanse sanguine humor desecrated by sea.

Discussions Weiss had with Dr. Scarlatina, the surgeon of Myrtenaster, had taught her many perspectives in modern medicine, including the debunking of classical medicine method of four humors and its nonsense. Downing whatever amounts of white wine wouldn't do Weiss any real benefit of rebalancing her bodily fluids nor it cleansed whatever ailments bloodied sea spat at her.

She just felt it, believed it. A make-believe wellness, a placebo.

Even if it wasn't real, still, a placebo comfort or bravery was better than nothing.

The sun started to cast golden glow, lengthening shadows casted on the rising waterline. She was weary from her eventful days, but there was a certain someone she had to pay a visit before dusk fell. She wouldn't call herself a proud true blood Schnee captain if she allowed mere fatigue got the best of her.

Just before she made her mind to leave, a marine corporal saluted at her.

"Good evening, Captain Schnee. Commodore Vasillias is expecting you in his office soon."

"Commodore Vasillias?" She said, unamused. "Is that an invitation for proper function or a private occasion?"

"Private, ma'am."

"Do tell him I have another appointment I can't cancel."

The corporal seemed a bit hesitant, but a glare from her was enough to push him back to his track and relayed her open refusal.

Others might perceive her earlier gesture as impertinence towards superior that might cost her career. Weiss cared less, for she knew Atlesian military still strongly upheld its tradition of meritocracy. With her impressive track record within her tour of duty, a mere senior's whine over small off-duty matters wouldn't topple her from her post.

It was one of many things she appreciated from Atlesian military, traditions stemming from rigid codes of chivalry and honor that had persisted through centuries. Compare it to the society of Atlesian elites, aristocrats and wealthy titled individuals that was bloated with guile, charade and backstabs. No wonder her late grandfather preferred spending most of his lifetime serving at Navy than pleasing Atlesian elites despite his aristocratic title.

She left without forgetting to leave the payment and the tip on the counter. The snow-haired woman went to a pier of docked boats and dinghies overlooking an island of a building offshore. Usually there would be a small score of ferryman there around the clock, but she only found one snoring on his boat. She was tempted to wake him up with a kick, but fortunately she was patient enough to just kick his boat instead.

The ferryman woke up with a jolt, obviously shocked not only by the kick on his boat, but the high rank spelled by her uniform and alpha scent coming from her petite body.

"M-Ma'am!"

"Cease your stutter," Weiss sighed and got into the boat, holding out some coins for the fee. "Just take me across the water."

The man took the coins and hurriedly untied the boat from the pier. He ferried Weiss across the water to the small rocky island and the captain went straight to the building. From afar, it made a melodramatic sight indeed; lone stony structure surrounded by seawater and golden glow of evening sun, casting a somberly beautiful shadow on the water surface. Up close, standing in its shadow, it was far somber than it was beautiful.

There was a doctor and staff hurried to welcome her on the entrance, for Weiss had been one of very handful people that visited the asylum in regular basis. They gave her brief update as she briskly walked along the drab hallway of the mental institution.

Reaching the recreation room, Weiss politely asked the doctor and the staffs to give her privacy. Across Weiss was a woman that almost mirrored her physique, save for taller height and subtle creases of older age. She looked at the gently rolling sea through the glass of a grand window, dressed in crisp Navy uniform sans the jacket. Refracted sunlight highlighted sharp ice blue eyes which used to be far more than just idle spectators of sea's splendor.

"Hello, Winter."

The older snow-haired lady smiled and moved away from the window to give Weiss a brief but warm hug.

"You've fared good so far, I take it?" Winter asked.

Weiss nodded. "And I can see that you too."

Winter Schnee. Once a proud commander of Atlas elite marine specialist force, the Ghostguards. Now she was reduced to nothing but a disillusioned inmate slash asylum patient. It broke Weiss' heart to see the sister she looked up to, the one that guided her in her naval career, to be like this.

As much as Weiss wanted to bail her sister out from this madhouse, however, this was arguably the best reprieve Winter could ever have. Outside these drab walls, no one could guarantee Winter's safety or her fragile sanity.

Here, in this island of military prison and mental institution, at least Winter was safe both in body and—most importantly—in mind. Even after her fall, the soldiers and staffs held her in respectful regard, treating her more like an honorably retired officer rather than a mentally unstable patient-inmate.

"It's getting boring to watch the same sea, crunching out same waves, from the same window," Winter said with a mirthful smile and settled herself on the couch. "What's your latest tale out there?"

Weiss chuckled and let herself sat comfortably beside Winter. She patiently recalled events happened on her patrol one by one, as honest as matter-of-fact without any embellishment.

She was careful not to get her sister too excited, for even the blandest recap of her day at sea could trigger Winter's fit. One day, when her attention slipped in the middle of the most exciting part of her story, Winter somehow grabbed ahold of her rapier and started brandishing it around wildly, screaming war cries to imaginary enemies. Fortunately, she still obeyed when Weiss asked her to drop the rapier and no one was hurt in the process.

This time, Weiss was sharp enough to notice Winter and her breath that started to race.

"I'm afraid it is my time to go, sister," Weiss stood up, trying to get her coat covering her sabre and rapier from Winter's notice. "I'll see you soon."

"Fair winds and following seas, Weiss."

The sisters shared one more hug before Weiss went back to the mainland. There was a voice nagging on the back of her mind—was her visit too short? She never knew when she could visit Winter again, anyway.

She eventually convinced herself a short visit was much better than overstaying her welcome and had Winter having a fit with a weapon in hand.

There was no trace of sunset behind when she reached her office. Daylight had been over but her day was still far from over. She still had patrol reports to work on, other paperwork to be done and a mountain of letters to read.

She was in the middle of writing her patrol log when the door was knocked politely. She let them come in and a private saluted at her.

"Reports?"

"Yes, ma'am," the private nodded and gave Weiss a bundle of letters. "The Fall Maiden launched a raid to Innsport's wharf and took two Atlesian merchant vessels with them. INS Brynhildr spotted them, but couldn't stop their raid and their escape. Details of the event are on the letters, ma'am."

Weiss opened the sealed letters and studied the written report of the raid. They must've attacked after Myrtenaster had passed Innsport, approximately half a day behind the frigate. Hopefully the damage done wouldn't hinder much of Atlesian commerce, since Innsport housed an important shipyard as well as storage wharf for merchants.

The Fall Maiden. A reportedly indiscriminate chaos harbinger, plunderer of the seas and shores of the three archipelagoes. It had been three months without any reported sighting of the wretched pirate ship, and now she rose from her short hibernation to wreak havoc again.

With the emergence of her terror, the admiralty certainly would amp up the patrol force, which means more patrols for her and Myrtenaster, more possible casualties among her seamen and officers—and the admiralty had yet approved her request for additional lieutenants to bolster imbalance of officers in her ranks. Her midshipmen mostly were teenage youths too young for promotional exams and she only had two lieutenants to help her keeping the morale and discipline of more than 150 crews of Myrtenaster.

In the middle of her own pondering, she'd just noticed the private hadn't taken his leave.

"Captain Schnee?"

"Is there something more?"

"Commodore Vasillias insisted to have your company at his office this evening."

Weiss didn't bother to cover her scowl and dismissed him nonchalantly.

Giving her report last proofreading, she set aside her reports and reached for an unmarked sealed letter. The letter informed a small rogue corvette named Tessaly marooned on a shore of Hunter's Isles and launched an ambush against a privateer in Patch. The same ship carried a band of ruffians her source claimed to be hired by Schnee Trading Company.

It wouldn't be the first time her father hired scallywags to do dirty jobs for him, but to specifically target a privateer rather than rivaling companies or merchants was a bit odd. Revenge? Probably, but it led to another question of how much this privateer was a thorn on his side.

Weiss put the letter down and peered to the distance beyond the window. It had been almost two years since she'd been spying on STC and its—her father's—shadier moves. It had been almost two years since Winter's lopsided court martial and the beginning of her quest to find truth and justice for her sister.

She wondered what ending her efforts would reap in the end. If there was an ending for it. If she could swerve any prospect of death at sea or land. If she was still alive to see the end of all of this.

The dark sea of new moon tide rumbled gently. The night had grown old. Perhaps she should consider a glass of wine followed by a good nightly rest.

Brought to you by this dumb dragon, proofread by my sensei the most exalted, the great loodmeister Webdog177! What are you waiting for? Go read his glorious smut, dammit!

Weather gage : An old expression when the sailing ship has the wind blowing to the direction the ship is heading.

Starboard : The right side of the ship.

Capstan : A part of the ship used to pull the anchor up and down.

Gangway/gangplank : In older times, a long wooden plank used as a walkway from the ship to the pier and vice versa. Also used when boarding enemy ships.

Fair winds and following seas : A nautical expression for good luck.

Really, sea talk is a weird talk. I have so much fun learning sailor's quirky words and vocabularies (with Horatio Hornblower books and tv series as my main source)!

And yes, maggots and weevils often live inside the flours and biscuits, even the ones that officers and captains eat. So actually even captains wouldn't really dine in absolute luxury. Imagine how hard it'd be for ordinary sailors! Be glad we live in modern era with hygienic tinned food!