Hello everyone! What you are about to read is the first chapter of the first book of a trilogy (that has yet to be named) focusing on Erza, Lucy and Levy. You do not have to read these books in any certain order, though it may help, as they can all be stand alone books. This will be a novel length story, and I am currently looking for betas and people to bounce ideas off of. If you are interested, please PM me! Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story and please leave a review in the little box ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or any of its characters. I just like making them into pirates. Arggh.
~o~O~o~
August 1713, The English Channel off Portsmouth, England
This was Jellal Fernandaz's last chance. If he didn't sail his father's merchant ship and the cargo she held safely into harbor, his future would be tossed to the wind. With his head held high, he marched across the deck of the Lady Em and gazed over the choppy seas of the channel, expecting at any minute to see the lights of Portsmouth pierce the gray shroud of dusk. Another hour and his mission would be a success. It had taken two years before his father had trusted him to captain the most prized vessel in his merchant fleet, the Lady Em—named after Jellal's mother, Emily—especially on a journey that had taken him past hostile France and Spain and then far into pirate-infested waters off the African coast.
Fisting his hands on his hips, Jellal puffed out his chest and drew a deep breath of salty air and the scent of musky earth—the smell of home. Returning with a shipload of ivory, gold and pepper from the Gold Coast, Jellal could almost see the beaming approval on his father's sea-weathered face. Jellal would prove himself equal to his older brother Theodore—perfect, obedient Theodore—who never let his father down. Jellal, however, had been labeled naught but capricious and unruly, the son who possessed neither courage for command nor the brains for business. This was almost as far from the truth as it could be, but never the less, that was the title placed on him.
Fog rolled in from the sea, obscuring the sunset into a dull blend of muted colors as it stole the remaining light of what had been a glorious day. Bowing his head Jellal thanked providence for such a safe journey.
"A sail, a sail!" a course voice blared from above.
Plucking the spyglass from his belt, Jellal held it to his eye. "Where away, Mules?"
"Directly off our lee, Captain."
Jellal swerved the glass; the dark outline of ship came into focus, the whites of her sails stark against the encroaching night. Gray smoke spiraled up from her quarterdeck as sailors scrambled across her in frenzy. The British flag flapped a harried plea from her mainmast.
"Hard to larboard," he yelled aft, lowering the glass. "Head straight for her Mr. Nelson"
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain." Cudney gave him a sideways glance. "But didn't your father give explicit orders never to approach an unknown vessel?"
"My father is not the captain of this ship, and I'll thank you to obey my orders without question." Jellal stiffened his lips, tired of having his decisions challenged. True, he had failed on two of his father's prior ventures—one to the West Indies where a hurricane sank his ship, and the other where he ran aground on the shoals of Portugal. Neither had been his fault, but still. Perhaps his father would even promote him to head overseer of his affairs.
With a nod, Cudney turned. "Mr. Blake, Mr. Gibes, prepare to luff, if you please." His bellowing voice echoed over the decks, sending the men up in the shrouds.
"Who is she?" Cudney held out his hand for the glass.
"A merchant ship, perhaps." Jellal handed him the telescope then gripped the railing as the Lady Em veered to larboard, sending a spray of seawater over her decks. "But she's British, and she's in trouble."
The ship lumbered over the aggravated waves. Jellal watched Cudney a he steadied the glass over his eye and his boots on the sodden deck. A low whistle spilled from his mouth as he twisted the glass for a better look.
"Pray tell, Mr. Cudney, what has caught your eye—one of those new ship wheels you've been coveting?"
"Nay, Captain. But something nearly as beautiful—a lady."
Jellal snatched the glass back as the Lady Em climbed a rising swell and then tromped down on the other side. As the vessel's sails snapped in the rising wind, braced his boots on the deck and focused the glass of the merchant ship. A woman clung to the foremast, a panic distorting her features which were indistinct through the haze. She raised a delicate hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint. Long red hair fluttered in the wind behind her. Heat flooded Jellal despite the chill of the channel. Lowering the glass, he tapped it into the palm of his hand, loathing himself for his shameless reaction. Hadn't his weakness for the opposite sex already caused enough pain?
Yet the vessel was clearly in trouble.
"We shall come alongside her." Jellal ordered.
Cudney glared at the ship. "Something's not right. I can feel it in my gut."
"Nonsense. Where's your chivalry?" Said the young captain, ignoring the hairs bristling on the back of his own neck.
Cudney's dark eyes shot back to Jellal. "But your father—"
"Enough!" Jellal snapped. "My father did not intend for me to allow a lady to drown. Besides, pirates would not dare to sail so close to England, especially near a city where so many of His Majesty's ships are anchored." Jellal glanced back at the foundering ship, now only half a knot off their bow. Smoke poured from her waist, curling like a snake into the dark sky. Left to burn, the fire would sink the ship in less than an hour. "Surely you do not suspect a woman of piracy?"
Cudney cocked one brow. "Begging your pardon Captain, but I've see stranger things on these seas."
~o~O~o~
Erza Scarlett Dryer flung her red hair behind her and held a quivering hand to her brow, nausea rising in her throat at her idiotic display. How did women feign such weakness without losing their lunch?
"They have taken the bait, mistress." A sinister chuckle filled the breeze.
"Oh thank heavens." Erza released the mast. Planting a hand on her hip, she gave Gildartz a mischievous grin. "Well what are you waiting for? Ready the men."
"Aye, aye." The bulky first mate winked and then strode across the deck, his bright orange hair gleaming in the light from the lantern hanging on the mainmast.
After checking the pistol that was stuffed in the sash of her gown and the one strapped to her calf, Erza sauntered to the railing to get a better look at her latest victim, a sleek two-masted brigantine. The orange, white and blue of the Dutch flag fluttered from her mizzen. A very nice prize indeed. One that would bring her even closer to winning the privet war she waged for herself and her sisters.
The oncoming ship sat low in the water, its hold no doubt packed with valuable cargo. Erza grinned. With this ship and the one she had plundered earlier, loaded with precious spices and silks, she was well on her way to amassing the fortune that would provide for her independence and that of her sisters. Well, at least the two that were left unfettered by unholy matrimony.
She allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment to her older sister Cana. Last year their father had forced her into a marriage with Lord Bacchus, a vile, perverse man who had oppressed and mistreated her beyond what anyone should have to endure. Erza had feared for her sister's safety and had prayed to God for months to deliver her, but to no avail.
Then, of course, there was the incident with Lucy, their youngest sister.
That was when Erza had stopped praying, had stopped hoping, had stopped believing in a God who claimed to love and care for His children. Hah.
She would rather die than see her two younger sisters chained to abusive men, and the only way to do avoid that fate was to shield them with their own fortune—a fortune she must provide since British law prohibited women from inheriting their father's wealth. Cringing, she stifled the fury bubbling in her stomach. She mustn't think of it now. She had a ship to plunder, and this was as much for Cana as it was for any of them.
The bowsprit of the brigantine bowed in obedience to her as it plunged over the white-capped swells. Gazing into the hazy mist, Erza longed to get a peek at the ninnies who had been so easily duped by her ruse, but she dared not raise the spyglass to her eye.
Putting on her most flirtatious smile, she waved to her prey, beckoning the fools onward, and then she scanned the deck as her crew rushed to their stations. Aboard her ship she was in control; she was the master of her life, her future—here and nowhere else. And oh, how she loved it!
Glidartz's large frame appeared beside her. "The rest of the men be waitin'yer command below the hatches mistress." He smacked his lips together in a hungry sound that Erza had become accustomed to before a battle. Nodding, she scanned her ship. Wilson manned the helm; Grayson and Lambert hovered over the fire, pretending to put it out; and Kane and Mac clambered up the ratlines in pretense of fear. She spotted Morgan pacing the special perch she had nailed to the mast just for him. She whistled, and the red macaw halted, bobbed his head up and down, and squawked, "Man the guns, man the guns!"
Erza smiled. She had purchased the bird from a trader off Morocco and named him after Captain Henry Morgan, the greatest pirate of all time. The feisty parrot had been a fine addition to her crew.
Azlack, her master gunner, came up to her side, wringing his hands in anticipation. "Can I just fire one shot at 'em, Cap'n? The guns grow cold from lack of use." His expression twisted into a pout that reminded her of her sister Lucy. "I won't hurt 'em none; ye have my word."
"I cannot take that chance Azlack. You know the rules." Erza said as the gunner's soot-blackened face fell in disappointment. "No one gets hurt, or we abandon the prize. But I promise that we shall test the guns soon enough"
With a grunt, Azlack trudged away and disappeared below.
Returning her gaze back to her unsuspecting prize, Erza inhaled a breath of crisp air. Smoke burned in her throat and nose, but she stifled a cough as the thrill of her impending victory charged through her, setting every nerve aflame. The merchant ship was nigh upon them, so much so that she could already make out the worried expressions of the crew as they charged to her rescue.
This is for you Cana, and for you Mother.
Heavy fog blanketed the two ships in a gray that darkened with each passing minute. Erza tugged her shawl tighter against her body, both to ward off the chill and to hide the pistol in her sash. A vision of her mother's pale face formed in the fog before her, blood marring the sheets on the birthing bed where she lay.
"Take care of your sisters, Erza"
A gust of wind blasted against Erza's face, where a determined expression marked her features. "I will Mother. I promise."
"Ahoy there!" a booming voice shattered her memories.
Ezra raised her hand in greeting toward the brigantine as it heaved ten yards off their starboard beam. "Ahoy, kind sir. Thank God you have arrived in time!" she yelled back, sending the sailors scurrying across the deck. Soon they were lowered a cockboat, filled it with men, and shoved off.
A twinge of guilt poked at Erza's resolve. These men had come to her with kind intentions. She swallowed hard, trying to drown out her nagging conscious. They were naught but rich merchants, she told herself, and she, A Robin Hood of the seas, taking from the rich to feed the poor. Well, perhaps not the poor, but certainly the needy. Besides, she had exhausted all legal means of acquiring the money she needed and present society offered her no other choice.
The boat thumped against her hull, and she nodded at Kane and Mac, who had jumped down from the shrouds and tossed the rope ladder over the side.
"Permission to come aboard?" The man who appeared to be the captain shouted toward Gildartz as he swung his legs over the bulwarks, but his eyes were on Erza.
By all means. Erza shoved a floppy fisherman's hat atop her head, obscuring her features from his view, and smiled sweetly.
~o~O~o~
"Aye, I beg ye, be quick about it afore our ship burns to a cinder." The massive, orange haired man beckoned to Jellal.
Jellal hesitated. He knew he should obey his father's instructions, he knew he shouldn't risk the hoard of goods in his hold, he knew he should pay heed to the foreboding of dread that now sank like an anchor in his stomach, but all he could see was the lady's admiring smile beneath the shadow of her heat, and he led his men over the bulwarks. After directing them to assist in putting out the fire, he marched toward the imposing man and bowed.
"Captain Jellal Fernandaz at your service."
When his gaze drifted to the lady, she slunk into the shadows by the foremast, her features lost in the dim light. Odd. Somehow he had envisioned a much warmer welcome. At the very least, some display of female appreciation.
"Give 'em no quarter! Give 'em no quarter!" a shrill voice shrieked, drawing Jellal's attention behind him to a large red parrot perched on a peg jutting from the mainmast.
A sharp blade of fear stabbed him.
"Captain," one of his crew called from the quarterdeck, "the ship ain't on fire. It's just a barrel with flaming rubbish inside it!"
The anchor that had sunk in Jellal's stomach dropped into his boot with an ominous clunk. He spun back around to the tall man, hoping for some sort of explanation, but all e received was a sinister grin.
Alarm seized Jellal, sucking away his confidence, reason and pride. He couldn't have been this daft. He glanced back to the Lady Em bobbing in the sea behind them. The pride of his father's fleet.
"To battle men!" the woman roared in a commanding voice belying her gender—a voice that ground Jellal's heart to dust.
Dozens of pirates spat from hatches onto the deck. Brandishing weapons they rushed toward his startled crew. One by one, his men dropped their buckets to the wooden planks with hollow thuds and slowly raised their hands. Their anxious gazes shot to Jellal, seeking his command. The pirates chortled as Jellal's fear exploded into a searing rage. They were surrounded.
The woman drew a pistol from her sash, and Jellal could just make out the tilted lift of her ruby lips—damn them! He wiped the sweat from his brow and prayed to God that he would wake up from this nightmare.
"I thank you, Captain, for your chivalrous rescue." The woman pointed her pistol at him and cocked it with a snap.
"But I believe I'll be taking over your ship now."