Your name is Arabell , you have long dark brown hair, golden chocolate eyes, a petite frame, and lightly tanned skin. Most girls of your social standings were pale, but you weren't like the girls your age. Your mother, who should have been the one to teach you how a proper young lady to act, had died birthing you, and your father runs a distillery and sugarcane plantation on Kingston Harbor.

Seeing as your father was always busy running things, and you had no other siblings, you were ignored most of the time. Not that your father didn't love you, he was a good father, just...a busy one. Having the freedom to do so, you played in the sugarcane fields, stealing sugar whenever you were certain none of the slaves were looking. When your father went into town you'd always beg him to take you with him, and he normally did. You had the strangest obsession with the docks. You loved to watch the sailor scurry about, and watch all the different ships dock into the port. You didn't understand how most people would have found this activity anything short of entrancing.

Sadly, your freedom did not last, as you learned at the age of thirteen. You father had started paying you much more attention, not that you minded, but it did leave you a little suspicious. He made you start warring corsets over your dresses, and all kinds of cloth underneath them. You hated him for it...the corsets crushed your insides, and the layers of undergarments were unbearably hot in the Caribbean heat. Completely unpractical for anyone to ware.

Then it became even worse. You'd always be at these balls and banquets. You didn't even know how to dance properly for heavens sakes! The closest you ever came to dancing lessons was dancing with the slaves around bonfires when your father wasn't home. You had come to find these dances very different. Plus your father would introduce you to every boy in the room by the end of the night. For a while you didn't understand his queer behavior, but you were a clever child and finally caught on. You did not approve of your father trying to marry you off. You hardly knew these people, let a lone loved them. Besides, you didn't want to have kids and waste away. You wanted to see the world, and actually live your life instead of watching it fade before your eyes. You had worked up a routine to scare every man away. It consisted of throwing things, and yelling curses, and overall being unladylike.

Your scheme had worked on every man...except one, Thomas H. Ross. No matter what you did, he seemed determined to marry you. Your father had actually promised him your hand! You had expected him to at least ask you if it was what you wanted first...but...he hadn't.

You quickly and cunningly devised a plan. You waited until your father went into town, which didn't take too long. You begged him to come, as always, and he complied, and as always you went straight to the docks. You managed to board passage with one of the merchant ships. You can't remember what isle it was supposed to be heading too, because halfway through the voyage there was a pirate raid. The Banshee's crew quickly overtook that of the merchant ship, and even though you had hidden, you were found and overtaken as well.

All of the crew was killed in one horrid way or another, but you were sparred. In a sense... The Banshee's captain, Bones Jones, a scrawny man with beady blue eyes, and a wiry white beard, not to mention the stench of decay about him, decided to take you as the crew's wench. You were only fourteen at the time, and thus too terrified to do or say anything against your fate.

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A/N: I know...it's short, but it's only the prolouge. The actual chapters will be a lot longer.