trigger warnings: character deaths (none of which are Brittany or Santana), implied rape, kidnapping, pillaging, and just about anything else you can imagine involving pirates.
In Seventeen Hundred and Four, Santana Lopez washed ashore
She met a man by the name of Schue and learned to sail the ocean blue
But no pirate was complete without a devilish master feat
She sought dreaded Sylvester's gold and other treasures left untold
But who dared come in between—a maiden, a brother, an admiral of the queen?
Sue Sylvester was the most dastardly pirate in all of the Good Lord's oceans, but after thirty years of thievery, she'd begun to grow tired of her high seas heists. She'd battled Royal Navies and Imperial Armies across the globe—and defeated them all—but her heart was too far inland to live on an old wooden ship forever.
She needed to return home.
Jean needed her there and all of the riches she had accumulated suddenly meant nothing.
"That's deep enough, Becky," Sue said, a wistful gleam in her eye as she watched her first mate dig a hole in the forest.
Becky stopped digging and fanned herself with her blistered hands. Why she always got stuck with the manual labor, she'd never know. "Would you like to draw the map or should I?"
"No map," Sue replied, shoving her treasure chest into the hole. They weren't coming back and whoever stumbled upon it way out here deserved to keep it. "Jeanie will be so proud of us for taking such good care of each other."
Becky nodded. "She sure will, Captain."
"Come along now, Becky. It's time we retired."
England, 1703
"Sail around the world—join Queen Marley's Royal Navy," Sir Figgins said with sparse enthusiasm. He had served his time in the Navy long ago and now he was in charge of enlisting young sailors. It was a tedious task and allowed him little time to frequent the brothels he loved so much.
"I'd like to sign up," one man volunteered.
"What's your name, son?" Sir Figgins asked him.
"It's Blaine," the boy replied. "Blaine Anderson."
Sir Figgins looked Blaine up and down. Although the boy was small in stature, he stood up straight and spoke with conviction. He was just the type of man the Navy wanted. "The wages are fair, the hours are all the time, and that's your commanding officer there," Sir Figgins said, pointing toward the ship's captain.
Blaine was incredulous. "Cooper?"
"Little brother!" Cooper said. "I wasn't aware you were enlisting."
"I looked for work at the theatre, but then I thought I should at least try and live up to your reputation," Blaine blushed.
Cooper clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Work hard and you will."
"What a touching moment," Sir Figgins said. "Excuse me while I have my own touching moment down the street at Madame Beiste's."
Uncharted Island, Caribbean, 1703
"Where are you going to go, Jesse?" Will shouted. "We're marooned here."
"Help will come," Jesse said, unconvinced by his own words. "In the meantime, I just want to get as far away from you as I can." He walked down the beach as fast as his weak, tired legs would take him.
"Jesse, come back!"
"No, you drunk bastard! You're the reason we're stranded out here!"
"I did it to protect you from those mangy rascals," Will said.
"And you thought burning down our ship would help? How are we supposed to find Sylvester's treasure now?"
Will looked down at the sand between his toes. "Maybe it's here."
"Fuck you," Jesse spat.
Off the Coast of Hispaniola, 1704
"Papá, watch this dance Emma showed me!"
"Not now, Santana," her father scolded her. He grabbed her by the arm and forced her to the ledge of the ship. The crashing waves frightened her, but the petrified look in her father's eyes frightened her more.
"Get in the rowboat," he commanded.
As a Spanish merchant, he was constantly on guard for pirates. His cargo ships were highly valuable and they had never fallen into the wrong hands, but that streak was about to end. He was surrounded. Fortunately, the darkness of this night might protect his young daughter.
"Here she is," the midwife said proudly as she handed the baby to Señor Lopez.
He cradled her gently in his arms. "What's her name?" he asked.
"Santana," his wife, Maribel, replied.
They had longed for a child for years, but were never blessed with one until now.
In all his life, he'd never seen anything so precious.
He wiped away a tear at the memory. "I'll lower you into the water. Then you must row as far from here as possible."
"Papá!" she cried as strange men began to board her father's ship.
He had just finished lowering her into the frantic sea when he was stabbed in the back.
En Route to Asia, 1704
"Are you ready to see the Orient, little brother?" Captain Cooper Anderson asked once Blaine was safely aboard the HMS Dalton. It was the naval fleet's pride and joy—the fastest ship in the sea, crewed by the toughest sailors, captained by the most charismatic Englishman since Shakespeare.
"I'm ready to see the whole world," Blaine said.
Cooper chuckled. His brother's good spirits never failed to amuse him. "You're an adventurer—just like me. I remember the first time I saw the African savanna. What a sight to behold!"
"And the Amazon Jungle?"
"Gorgeous. As were the women," said Cooper, but Blaine had never been intrigued by any woman. He preferred the company of men and had already managed to befriend one fellow on this voyage—a boy named Sam.
"The Caribbean Isles?" he asked Cooper.
"Breathtaking. Like my reflection."
"I'll see them all one day too?"
Cooper shoved Blaine playfully. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll see them together."
The Shores of Saint Kitts, 1704
Santana washed ashore with no memory of how she'd gotten there. She sputtered and coughed. Her ribs felt bruised and she had a few scratches on her arms, but the worst was her throat. She hadn't had a drop of water in days. She knew firsthand that sea water only made her thirstier.
Suddenly a shadowy figure loomed over her.
"Who do we have here?" he asked. "You're a scrawny little wench. What's your name, girl?"
"Santana," she replied before passing out.
"My name is Swashbucklin' Schue," the mystery man told her once she awoke under the shade of a palm tree. He offered her a tin cup full of fresh water. "But you can call me Will. I sailed the high seas under Captain Sylvester, the most ruthless pirate the world has ever known."
"Why aren't you still sailing with him?" Santana asked feebly, accepting the drink. She barely had the strength to speak, but she wanted to know why this man was choosing to help her.
"She vanished without a trace," Will told her. "But here's the strangest part—she left all her treasure behind, buried on one of these islands. Been lookin' for it meself."
Santana was shocked. "Captain Sylvester was a woman?"
"The hardiest woman I ever met," Will said with a nod. "You'd make a great captain, too. The fearless Captain Santana. You've already weathered a few storms, by the looks of you. C'mon, you must be starving."
He helped her to her feet and supported her weight as she took a few unsteady steps. They walked down the beach until they reached a fishing hut where they saw a young boy around Santana's age waving them over.
"Who's your new friend, Will?" the boy asked, brushing his tangled, windswept hair out of his face.
"This is my daughter, Santana. Santana, meet Island Artie," Swashbucklin' Schue said, his arm still protectively around the girl. "If the locals think we're related, they'll leave you alone," he whispered so only she could hear.
"She must take after her mother," Island Artie commented, noting the girl's outstanding beauty.
"Sure does! Her mother's an… exotic," Will said.
Island Artie scratched his head. "An exotic what?"
Will coughed. "We'll take your best fish."
Bombay, India, 1704
"Branch out, men. We're getting off the Dalton for a night of mischief and mayhem," Cooper ordered. His sailors needed to unwind. Life at sea was monotonous and this was just the refresher they needed. "You two are coming with me," he told Blaine and Sam, who were thrilled to spend their evening with their beloved captain.
They wandered the streets of Bombay looking for a nice place to have a drink. "So Samuel," Cooper said, "do you have a girl waiting for you back home?"
Sam scratched his head. The only girl he'd ever loved was a slave and he couldn't admit that without the fear of being ostracized by his fellow sailors. "No," he said glumly. He didn't even know her name.
"There isn't shame in that! My little brother hasn't one either," Cooper said to Blaine's embarrassment. He spotted a pub up ahead. "Last one there swabs the poop deck!"
Sam and Blaine chased after him, dodging the villagers that filled the streets. When they arrived, Cooper was already waiting for them with drinks in hand.
"I'll be back with more," Cooper said once they'd finished the first round.
"Your brother is a wonder," Sam told Blaine, who agreed. They chatted idly and waited for Cooper to return.
"Follow me, boys. There's a card game happening in the back room," Cooper whispered.
He walked with the confidence befitting of a captain and knocked on the door.
In the past Cooper was something of a swindler. He made a living off cheap tricks and was starting to make his way up in the nefarious London underground when he made the mistake of targeting a man named Sandy Ryerson, who wasn't pleased to discover his priceless collection of porcelain dolls was pawned. Sandy tracked Cooper down and demanded compensation. In an effort to repay his debts, Cooper joined the Navy.
The rest was smooth sailing... until now.
"No foreigners welcome," the man who opened the door said, before sliding it closed.
"We're not foreigners. We're Englishmen!" Cooper boasted loudly. "And we're just stopping through on our way to—"
The man opened the door a crack and shook his head. "Foreign to me."
"Listen here, my good sir—"
Cooper didn't have the chance to finish his sentence before the man drew his sword.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Cooper warned, drawing his own weapon. "We're members of the Queen's Royal Navy."
"The Queen's Navy, huh?" the man said, as though the realization had just dawned on him, "in that case... Attack!"
To Cooper's surprise, men poured out of the back room and began circling him and his two companions. Blaine and Sam dueled side by side as Cooper fought off three men at once.
"This would be much easier if I hadn't left my pistol on board the ship," Blaine moaned, dodging a jab from a boy no older than him, and swiping at him with his sword.
"A sailor never forgets his weapons—ah, I forgot mine, too," Sam said sheepishly. "Guess we'll have to do it the old fashioned way."
"Junior!" the man who had launched the attack yelled. The boy fighting Blaine retreated back to where the enemy had cornered Cooper and tied him up.
"My name is Captain Michael Chang Senior," the man spoke, "and no Englishman will ever claim my loot."
"We're not trying to claim your loot. We just wanted to play cards," Cooper explained to no avail.
"Let him go!" Blaine shouted.
Cooper struggled against his captors. "Blaine, stay where you are."
Sam grabbed Blaine by the waist, hoping to keep him from doing something that would likely get them all killed.
"Hold him down," Captain Chang ordered his men, pulling a white-hot brand from the fireplace.
"No!" Cooper shouted. "Anything but that—stop."
"Let this be a warning to you," Captain Chang said to Blaine and Sam. "Any Englishman who steps foot in Bombay will soon bear our mark."
He placed the brand on Cooper's face as Sam cringed and Blaine wept.
Brad's Tavern, Saint Kitts, 1714
"Just how drunk are you, Pop?" Santana asked as she struggled to keep Will standing upright. He just polished off his fourth or fifth tankard and had a habit of buying a round for everyone once he got this way.
These nights set them back quite a bit of money—money that they needed to charter a ship. Santana never blamed Will for it, but it was time she left the island in search of Sylvester's treasure. He'd taken care of her for years and it was time she repaid his kindness.
"Only a little tip bitsy," Will slurred. He gave the barmaid a few coins. "More ale, April."
April winked at her favorite customer. He was the handsomest man on the island and April knew that for a fact since she had slept with all of them. "You got it, Sailor," she said, going to fetch his drink.
"Promise me you won't bring her home again," Santana begged Will. "She's given you fleas twice already."
"Hello, Father," said a bitter voice behind Will.
Santana froze. She'd heard stories about Will's son, but surely it couldn't be him...
"Jesse!" Will greeted, turning to face him.
Santana peered up at Jesse, not knowing what to say. He looked almost exactly like his father, but without the distinguished jawline that made Will so dashing.
"I go by Captain St. James now. You look well. Still slumming it with prostitutes I see," Jesse sneered.
"No, no, no," Will said. "This is your sister!"
"The family resemblance is astounding," Jesse replied.
Will let Jesse's snide remark go, happy that his only son was right before his very eyes. "Last I heard you were sailing with Connivin' Corcoran," he said.
"Mutinied. I played no part in it, but somehow I was still elected captain." Jesse let out a deep, mournful sound that hardly convinced Santana of his remorse.
She was right not to believe him because Shelby Corcoran's downfall came when she put her trust in this pompous man who sought only one thing: fortune.
Jesse continued. "I was working for a respectable trading company when I met her, but she was like a siren. She lured me in with her song. Four years we made beautiful rhapsody together."
Santana clutched her stomach. "I think I'm going to be seasick."
"But we're on land," said Will.
She rolled her eyes at her drunken slob of a Pop. He was a fool for buying into Jesse's tale, but she loved him nonetheless. "I know."
"So what's next for you, Jesse?" Will asked.
"Captain St. James," Jesse reminded him. "And I'm looking to take a wife." His cold, narrowed eyes bore into Santana's, but she refused to look away. He would not intimidate her. "It's a shame we're related," he told her. "I would love to tame a wild beauty like you."
And with that, he left.
"Are you sure he's your son?" Santana asked Will.
Will nodded. "Probably."
"We had best head home soon before April hoists up her skirt," she advised. "A few more months and we'll have enough money to set sail."
He burped. "Aye aye, Captain Santana."
"So if I'm the captain then what does that make you again?"
"I'll be your first mate," Will told her. "I'll be there to give you advice whenever you need it."
"Always?" Santana wondered.
Will hugged her tightly. "Always."
She paused. "Will?"
"Aye?"
"What did Jesse mean when he said they made rhapsody together?"
Will shook his head. "I'm not certain I want to know."
The Island Territory of Curaçao, 1715
Brittany Pierce was restless.
Willemstad was a beautiful place full of wonderful people, but there was nothing left for her to explore. She knew every rock, every tree, every facet of every person.
She didn't want a life of tea parties and piano lessons.
She often gazed out at the sea and wondered what was beyond the horizon. Exotic lands filled with jungle cats larger than her own Lord Tubbington? Colorful creatures on the verge of extinction in need of her help, perhaps?
Living here was like an undertow. It slowly pulled at her until she felt like she was drowning at sea.
"Brittany!" said her friend, Rachel. "Did you hear that pirates have been spotted on the south beach?"
Brittany's heart skipped a beat.
"They're taking wives!"
"Bring out your women and we shall not harm anyone. Refuse to do so and we'll burn your entire settlement to the ground," the leader said from his spot in the town square.
"We need to hide," Brittany told Rachel. She wanted off this island, but it was not as a pirate's captive. She pictured all of the best hiding spots on the island from her childhood. An idea came to her. "The salt mines," she said.
"There isn't much time," Rachel said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Where are you going?"
Brittany and Rachel froze. Behind them was the village idiot, his mouth gaping open.
"That man said to bring all the women to he center of town," he added.
"Howard." Brittany turned around to plead their case. "Just let us go."
He frowned, thinking. "But if you go, they'll hurt someone."
"Howard, they will never know we even exist if you don't tell him," Rachel said.
"Over here!" Howard yelled, grabbing Brittany by the wrist and pulling her close.
"Run," Brittany told Rachel as she was dragged back to the square.
Aboard the Red Devil, 1715
"The winds are changing," Will mused to Santana, taking note of the billowing sails that adorned the Red Devil. He nudged her shoulder with his own. "They're trying to take us off course."
Santana was silent. Her crew grew restless with each passing day they failed to discover the location of Sylvester's treasure. She wasn't sure how much time she had before they began plotting a mutiny. She knew only a few were truly loyal to her. Will was a given—along with brothers Noah and Jake Puckerman and a thin, wiry boy named Kurt Hummel.
"Something on your mind?" Will asked.
"How do you know Sylvester's treasure is really out there?"
"Doubting your old Pop, I see," Will chuckled.
"Never," Santana said, "but you told me a long time ago she never made a treasure map. If she really did have any valuables, how would she ever find them again?"
Will shrugged. "I don't know. I sailed with her for years and I hardly knew a thing about her. She mostly kept to herself. The longest we ever spoke was the day I met her..."
"I'm in need of a navigator."
Will looked up from his spiced mead at the imposing woman before him. She towered over every man in the joint. "Buy a compass," he recommended before going back to his drink.
"Compasses can be fooled. The stars cannot," she replied. "My sister Jean has been scouting you a while. She says you can read the stars like a map."
He eyed her warily. He'd heard of the Sylvester sisters before and how they operated. "I'm not interested in becoming a pirate."
"Then what interests you, William Schuester?" one half of the most dreaded duo in the world asked him.
His answer was simple. "Women."
"I can introduce you to plenty of women. Blondes, brunettes, I even know a few dozen redheads if you're into Irish gals. I do have a question for you though. How are you with weapons?"
"I'm not very handy with a sword," Will admitted.
Sue nodded, already knowing what his truthful response would be. "You'll learn. Before you know it, you'll be swashbuckling with the best of 'em. Except you won't be better than me. No one is better than me."
Will weighed his options. He could either continue on as a banker in this dingy settlement, or he could choose danger. "I'm in."
"That was easy. I didn't even have to bully you," Sue said. "What other skills do you possess that might be useful to me?"
"I speak a little Spanish," Will offered.
Sue frowned. "That won't be necessary."
"Ship!" the lookout shouted.
"Friend or foe, Kurt?" Santana called up to the crow's nest.
"It's a Spanish galleon. Looks friendly enough," he called back.
"There's enough riches on them ships to make us kings," Dave Karofsky said.
"You lubberly lout! Only divine right di-rectly from God can make us kings," his mate, Azimio, scolded him.
"Oh," Dave said. "Then we'll be princes or something."
"Captain, they've got a headwind. There's not much time left to catch up to them." Noah's hand tapped the wooden rail impatiently as he watched the merchant ship get smaller and smaller in the distance.
"The loot is going North, Pop." Santana squinted in the sunlight after the retreating galleon.
"What about the treasure? The legend says mountains of gold, jewels, pearls. Sylvester built up a lifetime's hoard," Will reminded her.
It was just like Santana to be so stubborn. She always thought she had to do what was expected of her instead of going after what she really wanted. It saddened Will, but he could only steer her in the right direction.
"My crew has to profit somehow, Pop. Legends are no good to me right now."
"You have a choice to make," Will said. "You can either go after that ship or you can go after what we've always wanted. Unclaimed treasure. You're not a barbarian, Santana."
She hesitated. "I—"
"Captain, we need a decision," Noah said.
"Raise the mainsail. We're following that ship," she ordered, her confidence no longer wavering.
Will hung his head, refusing for the first time to look her in the eye. "Congratulations on becoming a pirate."
His dismissal angered her. "Why are you so upset? You're a pirate too!"
"I suppose I had higher hopes for you," he said before retreating back into his quarters for the night.
Black Bay Tavern, Saint Lucia, 1715
"It's a shame we had to take Will back to Saint Kitts."
"He needs time to recover," Santana said. Her men suspected Will hadn't really come down with a case of sea blindness, but she was ashamed to admit that he was disappointed in her. She had become the one thing he'd always warned her against—a pirate. "In the meantime, you've been promoted to first mate."
"I'll drink to that," Noah Puckerman replied, toasting to himself. "Lots of beauties here."
While his captain had never discussed her attraction to women with him, Noah was an observant man and in times like these she made it rather obvious to the trained eye, but not tonight.
Tonight she was all business.
"Focus," she snapped at him. "We need to discuss politics."
He set his drink down on the table. "Aye. Azimio and Karofsky are as much muscle as you'll find in the West Indies, but they're shite-a-bed scoundrels."
"We can buy them off. They'll not give us any trouble about that," she said. "Who else am I looking to toss?"
"Richard Nelson, your cook," Puck said. "His food is awful and his temper worse."
Santana laughed. "We're pirates. We all have tempers. But you're right about his food."
Puck grimaced at the memory of Rick the Stick's so-called grub. "My brother knows a man named Ryder Lynn who's a proper cook. He looks like an Englishman with his clean face and his well-to-do society clothes, but he's loyal to Jake."
"And Jake is loyal to you and you are loyal to me," she surmised. "Rick can be paid off too, but not as much as the others. Just thinking about his chowder makes me queasy. Start asking around about any sailors looking for work."
"There's one more matter at hand, Captain. That woman's been staring at you all night," Noah whispered in her ear.
The tavern was full of lively drunks, but the woman in discussion looked sober enough for a funeral at sea. Santana decided to approach her. Flirting was not her area of expertise, but she figured this lady was likely a prostitute.
She could afford to part with some of her new loot in order to get laid. As much as she displeased parting ways with Will, her recent victory was cause for celebration.
"How much for the night?" Santana asked, and was shocked when the woman slapped her in response. "What was that for?"
"For assuming I'd sleep with you," the woman said.
Santana resisted the urge to slap her back. No one had ever insulted her that way, not even that loathsome Jesse. "Then what do you want with me?"
"I'm here to join your crew. I know what you're after and I want in."
"With an attitude like that, you must know a few others who'd be willing to join up," Santana said, deciding she'd much rather have this woman as her ally than her enemy. "We've recently traded in exploration for piracy so I hope that doesn't go against your moral code."
"The only thing that goes against my moral code is lying with another female, whether it's for money or not," the woman smirked. "And I was staring at your friend, for the record. My name's Quinn Fabray and I know just the right people for the job."
Joe Hart began as a missionary sent to save the people of a savage land from their idols and material desires, but when he got to the islands he embraced the local culture and started a new career as a pirate.
Tina Cohen-Chang was adopted at age three by a family who owned a sugar cane farm, but were run out of business by a trading company. Poverty soon followed until she honed her fighting skills as a mercenary.
Rory Flanagan hailed from Ireland, but moved to the islands as part of a school exchange program. He was expelled for lying and chose to stay rather than going back to his home in Muckanaghederdauhaulia.
"These are your companions?" Santana said, unimpressed by their lack of girth. She was trying to replace Karofsky and Azimio, after all.
Noah grabbed Rory by the wrist and shook his arm. "He's got no muscle," he laughed.
"I'm handy with a knife," Rory replied.
"Good. We need a potato peeler," Noah said.
"He needs work," Quinn said. "We all do. Tina here is deadly with a crossbow and Joe is a carpenter—"
"I also wed many savages in the name of the Lord," Joe offered.
Santana blinked. "I'll keep that in mind."
The Red Devil, Off the Coast of British Honduras, 1716
"Captain! There's a ship on the horizon," the lookout cried from the crow's nest.
"Friend or foe, Kurt?" Captain Santana yelled.
"It's the Union Jack," Kurt replied. "The HMS...something."
Santana gritted her teeth. She hadn't caused the Royal Navy any problems as of late, but if they asked to board the Red Devil that could lead to trouble. And where was Noah when she needed him?
As it happened, he was below deck with one of the new recruits.
"So Quinn, where'd you learn to tussle like that?" Puck asked breathlessly.
Quinn turned on her side towards him, pulling the sheets over her exposed skin. "That was my first 'tussle' actually," she admitted.
Puck kissed her sweetly on the mouth. "You're a natural," he said. He grazed his fingertips along her neck and down to her collarbone, stopping just over her heart.
Quinn shivered at his touch. "Most things come naturally to me. Sword fighting, French, drinking…"
"Fucking," Puck said, a lewd smile on his face.
"You're vulgar," she told him, although she was hardly angry. She gave him a kiss in return. "I like that about you."
Their tender moment was interrupted when Joe came bursting into the living quarters with the order all hands on deck. The lovers scrambled to get dressed, haphazardly tossing garments at each other until they finally were clothed.
Noah was just tightening his pants when he saw a Royal Navy ship closing in on the Red Devil. "Ready the cannons," he told Joe.
"No, we'll see what they want first," Santana told her crew. "Keep a close watch. If they try anything, slit their throats."
"Permission to board?" a member of the HMS Dalton asked.
Santana eyed her crew, noticing how tightly they gripped their weapons. Even Rory had his potato peeling knife. "Granted."
A plank was placed between the two ships and a trio of men boarded the Red Devil. "Allow me to introduce myself," one of the men, presumably their leader, said. "My name is Commander Blaine Anderson of the Queen's Royal Navy."
"Oh, I love a man in uniform," Noah mocked, making the crew of the Red Devil roar with laughter, but it halted when Santana raised a silencing hand.
As a younger man, Blaine would have blushed indefinitely at the pirate's comment. Few things phased him now that he had seen his brother branded before his own eyes. "If you would be so kind as to allow us to search your ship, we'll be done in no time."
As he took a step forward Santana placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. "And why would I allow that, Commander?"
"Get your filthy hands off him," one of his officers snarled.
"It's alright, Sam. First of all, I mean you no harm," he insisted. "I'm only looking for Michael Chang."
Santana snorted. "The wickedest Asian pirate who's ever lived? He's not here. I think he'd probably be the captain if that was the case, not me."
Blaine cleared his throat. "I suppose I should clarify. Michael Chang Junior is the one I'm after."
"Only girl Changs aboard my vessel," Santana said, nodding at Tina.
"I'd like to see for myself if you don't mind," Blaine said.
"I do mind. He's not here."
Blaine sized up her crew, who looked ready for a fight. "You're awfully defensive for someone who's not hiding a stowaway."
"And you're awfully adamant that I'm lying," Santana retorted.
"As Commander of Her Majesty's Royal Navy I ask that you step aside while we search your ship for the fugitive."
"As captain of this vessel I insist that you get your shiny black boots off of my deck."
Blaine stuck his chest out and stepped forward.
"By order of Her—" His breath hitched as the tip of Santana's cutlass prodded him in his chest. "So be it."
Blaine drew his sword. Santana smirked as her crew made a circle around the duelers.
"What's the wager?" Jake asked. Life could be pretty boring aboard a ship all the time so the pirates never needed much of an excuse to bet on anything.
Noah chuckled. "There is no wager, brother. Cap's got this."
"Rory?" Jake asked, hopefully.
"Sorry, no thanks," Rory declined. "Besides, who's stupid enough to bet against the Captain?"
Santana and Blaine's blades clashed as they circled the deck.
"You're dripping sweat on my deck, Anderson. Rory spent all morning scrubbing that," she taunted.
"Kill 'im, Captain!" Rory called from the side.
A pang of worry affected Blaine as he realized that the scrawny young woman, who was currently raining down blows upon him and getting alarmingly close to his head, was actually a lot stronger than she looked. What Santana lacked in brute strength she made up for in speed and agility.
His regulation Naval uniform—buttoned tightly up to the neck—wasn't helping him either and his face had turned an ugly shade of puce. Santana forced him back against a pile of crates and in a last ditch attempt at besting her Blaine caught Santana's knuckles with the back of his blade. The pain caused her to drop her cutlass.
He stood, shaking with exertion.
"Big mistake," Noah said in a hushed voice.
As the crew watched with interest, Santana glared at the terrified naval officer. "My knuckles are still bruised from last night's tavern brawl," she said, cradling her fist.
"That was rude," Rory called out.
"But I've still got my sword," Blaine said, looking confused. "I win."
He looked down at it, mistakenly taking his eyes off Santana. Before he could blink she was on him his sword arm pinned behind his back and a knife to his throat. "You dare come onto my ship!?" she snarled.
"Please don't kill me," Commander Anderson begged.
Santana knew if she spared him, it would not be their last encounter. "Tell me why I should," Santana said, holding her knife steady.
"I'll—I'll never harm anyone you love," he struggled to promise.
Will's face flashed through her mind. You're not a barbarian, Santana reminded herself, reciting Will's earlier words. Against her better judgement, she decided to do the honorable thing. "Deal," she said, but she tossed him overboard for good measure.
He'd survive that.
Probably.
"Man overboard!" his next in line told the crew of the Dalton as he scrambled back to his own ship.
"Captain, we have a problem," Noah said, once they were safely away from Commander Anderson's crew.
He had a man pinned down to the deck and Santana had a sneaking suspicion as to who he might be. "Michael Chang Junior, I presume?"
The man nodded.
"How long have you been aboard the Red Devil?" she asked.
Michael shook his head. "I—I just now boarded your ship. I was stowed away on the Dalton for weeks."
"You stowed away on a Royal Navy ship? Why?"
"It was the last place he'd think to look for me," Michael replied.
"So you got from that ship to this ship without anyone seeing you," Santana deduced. She could use a man of such great stealth. "Noah, let him up. Mike here is one of us now."
The Red Devil, Atlantic Ocean, 1716
"Captain, I don't mean to alarm you, but we're running low on food," Noah informed her.
Santana turned slowly to face her first mate. "We're two days from land," she said. "Will we make it?"
"Hard to say. The crew's appetite has been ravenous lately," Noah said with a frown. He didn't want the Captain to know that her best fighter was pregnant or that he was the one who impregnated her.
"Ship ho!" Kurt called.
"Friend or foe, Kurt?"
"Unsure. It's hard to make out the name. The Rhapsody, perhaps?" he replied.
"I know that ship," she said.
"Well, are they friend or are they foe?" Noah asked.
Santana pulled her periscope from her pocket. A growing sense of hatred filled Santana's gut. "Family."
"Scour the ship," Captain Santana ordered her crew as they forcefully boarded the Rhapsody.
Noah and Quinn went below deck to gather rations as Santana made her way to the captain's quarters. Once inside, she discovered it was not unlike her own.
The only difference was the maiden tied to the bed.
"Please help me before he comes back," the girl pleaded.
"Who? St. James?" Santana asked, undoing the knots as fast as her fingers would allow. The knots were intricate, the craftsmanship of an experienced sailor, but they were looser from the girl's struggling.
The girl nodded.
"He'll pay for that," Santana promised before setting her free. "Follow me back to my ship," Santana said to her. "I'll give you a ride back to land."
The girl hesitated for a second before grabbing Santana's hand. They ran out of the captain's quarters and were met with the sight of an enraged Jesse St. James.
"That's mine," he said jealously.
"I'm not anyone's," the girl told him. "You took me by force!"
"And that's why I can justify stealing all of your food," Santana said to Jesse, before quickly disarming him.
His sword skidded across the deck and he dove after it. He rolled over onto his back once he had his blade and pointed it at Santana.
"It's about time we met again, sister," he said.
She gripped her cutlass tighter. "Avast, Jesse. Admit defeat before anyone comes to harm."
"I'll never surrender to you," he said, sitting up slowly.
The girl watched the chaos surrounding them. It appeared her rescuer had a point—Jesse and his men were outmatched, but it was only a matter of time before someone was gravely injured.
"What would Pop say about this?" Santana replied.
Jesse got to his feet and backed up to the edge of the ship. The rollicking sea waves made it difficult to stand. "He's a lowlife who filled your head up with fairy tales just like he did mine," he snapped.
"You're wrong."
"He never forgave me for any of the things I did." Jesse shook his head. "What makes you think he'll pardon your mistakes? I don't see him here today. He must have abandoned you when you didn't see eye to eye."
The truth in his words stung. Surely Will hated her for the way she treated him. In the end, she turned out just like Jesse—selfish and motivated by greed.
He swiped wildly at her with his sword, hoping to catch her off guard, but she was prepared and with a quick flick of her wrist, she used her cutlass to maim Jesse's most prized possession.
"You cut my hair!" Jesse screeched in outrage. He picked up the free lock of hair and waved it in the air furiously. "Look at what you've done. It's ruined. RUINED!"
Santana sniggered quietly, but that only incensed him further. His nostrils flared widely and with a roar of pure rage Jesse charged for Captain Santana, his cutlass aimed at her heart. Santana sidestepped the attack, slapping Jesse on his backside with the flat of her cutlass as he launched himself past her. He stumbled and with his misstep took a plunge into the ocean below.
"Captain?" the girl asked from where she was peering over the side of the ship, watching Jesse flounder in the water. "Should we throw him a line?"
"You know, I don't think he can swim," Quinn mused as she and Noah arrived on the scene, arms full of stolen rations. They all watched Jesse's head disappear under the water only to appear once more with a gasp of air.
"Aye, look for a rope long enough to reach him," Santana said to the three of them.
"Captain!" the girl gasped after only a few seconds of frantic searching.
Santana turned to the girl curiously. "What is it?"
Noah leaned over the edge of the ship. "I think we just found out Captain St. James's true pirate name," he winced at the sight. "Shark Bait."
Santana sunk down to her knees.
"Welcome to the Red Devil," Santana said, helping her across the threshold between her ship and Jesse's.
"It's cleaner than I'm used to," the girl said in awe.
"Is that a complaint I hear?" Santana teased. "Between you and me, it's not always this nice. Rory scrubbed the place down just yesterday."
"Captain," Kurt addressed her, "what would you have us do with Jesse's men?"
"Spare them. Let them mourn the loss of their captain and bury him at sea," Santana ordered.
"What do these maps show?" Brittany, the curious girl from Jesse's ship asks her.
Santana shivered. At night the winds made the air unbearably cold. She thought it might also have to do with the gentle way Brittany spoke. "They're maps of the stars," Santana informed her. "Are you cold? I can get you some blankets."
"A little," Brittany said shyly.
"My Pop taught me how to read them," Santana explained as she wrapped a quilt around Brittany's trembling shoulders. "And he taught Jesse, too."
Brittany yawned. It had been an exhausting day; both being liberated and meeting this most alluring woman took the breath right out of her in the best way. "I should get some rest," she said. She offered the quilt back, but Santana refused.
"Keep it for now and even if you don't return it, you're welcome in my quarters anytime," Santana said. Embarrassed, she realized what she'd said. "I mean—to talk."
Naval Promotion Ceremony, British Honduras, 1716
Sam Evans did not have the same motivation to move up through the ranks as his closest companion. However, he did enjoy watching Blaine's face as he was promoted time and time again. Sam knew it was all to make Cooper proud, but he couldn't help feeling tremendously proud of Blaine as well. After all, they'd been sailing together for nearly thirteen years.
"Congratulations, old friend. At this rate you're well on your way to knighthood," Sam said, hugging Blaine in a brotherly manner.
"Someone stop me before I take the throne," Blaine joked, returning the hug. He ran his fingers through his delicately styled hair. "I know wigs are fashionable, but I can't see myself in one. What is the purpose in trying to appear older?"
"That Ponce de León fellow had it right," Sam agreed. He chose his next words carefully. "Perhaps we should abandon this search for Michael Chang Junior and look for the Fountain of Youth instead."
"No. We're closing in on him. I know it."
"You don't know it!" Sam said, covering his mouth once the words had already left it. It was the first time he'd ever defied his friend and commanding officer. He moved his hand to Blaine's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "What I mean is... do you really want to spend the rest of your life chasing down one man out of revenge?"
Before Blaine could respond, the arrival of Sir Figgins interrupted their conversation. "Admiral Anderson! So good to see you," he greeted. "It's a shame your brother couldn't be here."
"It's shame that keeps him from going out in public, Sir," Blaine said.
"Pity. He was so handsome," Sir Figgins replied.
Captain's Quarters of the Red Devil, 1716
"Let's see the booty," Captain Santana said one night after another victorious raid.
The fair maiden she'd rescued so many months ago from Jesse's band of pirates blushed. Although Santana had made it perfectly clear that Brittany was not a captive, the girl had chosen to stay aboard. Brittany fumbled with the treasure chest and opened it slowly. Santana raked her eyes from Brittany's face, past her breasts, and down to the loot.
"Excellent haul, milady," Santana declared.
Brittany smiled. "I'm no lady. I'm a pirate," she said.
A pang of guilt struck Santana. That's all she felt after Jesse died and now she was turning Brittany into a corrupt mess like herself. Beautiful, brilliant Brittany. The girl with whom she was deeply in love.
Brittany, who was slowly learning about all the terrible things she'd done…
"What's on your mind, my Captain?"
It haunted Santana to think that this woman only saw her as her superior, her hero.
"Brittany," she began, "do you believe in making amends?"
The color drained from Brittany's face. "Jesse's gone, Santana—"
"No! I'm not talking about him." Santana was quick to correct her. Brittany clearly didn't want to talk about the time she spent on the Rhapsody and Santana wasn't too keen to speak of it either. "I meant Will. I know he wasn't my father, but he raised me and I really don't remember anything about my life before him." She bit her lip. "Then again, he raised me to go after what he always wanted and to replace his own son."
Brittany traced her fingers over the star maps. "Or maybe he gave you all this knowledge so you could figure out what you want for yourself."
"Are you saying I shouldn't go after Sylvester's treasure?"
"I'm saying that's for you to decide," Brittany said.
Easier said than done, Santana thought.
What did she truly want?
Barnacle Finn's Inn & Alehouse, British Honduras, 1716
Sir Figgins pounded on the table, too drunk and too foolhardy to breathe. "Then Mistress Unique says to me, 'That's not my leg'," he guffawed, finishing his tale. "Ha... W-what do you think she meant by that?"
"It's been wonderful catching up with ye, Sir Figgins, but Sam and I had best be heading back to the Dalton now," Blaine said. "Where is Sam?"
"Relax, Admiral! He's using the latrine. Ah, that reminds me. I have new orders for you from London," said Sir Figgins.
Blaine's shoulders tensed. "New orders?"
"Yes! You have been protecting these waters from scallywags for too long. You will be stationed in a place called Singapore," Sir Figgins explained.
"Impossible," Blaine scoffed. "I requested to stay here."
Sir Figgins was growing impatient with the young admiral's arrogance. This was not Blaine's Royal Navy, it was Queen Marley's and whatever orders Queen Marley sought fit, Blaine had best follow. "And that request was denied. You are going to Singapore. The papers are right here—"
Blaine snatched the parchment from Sir Figgins in a moment of panic. He held them over the candle on top of their table and watched as they caught fire and burned.
"It doesn't work like that, son," Sir Figgins said solemnly. "You still have your orders."
A flickering light shone on Blaine's face, casting shadows over his hate-filled eyes. "Not if you disappeared before you gave them to me," he intoned. "Look under the table."
"But I only play that game with Madame Beiste," Sir Figgins said, but he did so anyway.
To his great shock, Blaine's pistol was drawn.
When Sam returned from the latrine, he was surprised to find Blaine was the only one waiting for him.
"I took Sir Figgins back to his room. He fell ill," Blaine lied, hoping Sam was too intoxicated to smell the gunpowder on him. "Perhaps it's for the best since I wish to speak with you alone."
Sam sat down on the stool next to Blaine. "You can tell me anything. I've been your trusted companion since day one."
"I know that, Sam. I haven't forgotten."
"Then what is it?" Sam asked.
"I'm certain that wretched wench from the Red Devil is hiding Michael from me," Blaine spat. Too much energy coursed through his veins. He tried to calm himself down. He'd already killed one man tonight; there was no sense in killing another. Especially not his loyal Samuel.
"I wouldn't put it past her," an unfamiliar voice said.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Sam demanded.
"My name is Richard Nelson, but you can call me Rick the Stick. I may not know where to find Captain Santana, but I know where you can find her father. He's on an island recovering from sea blindness."
Birth of a New Pirate, The Red Devil 1716
Quinn squeezed the hand closest to hers, which happened to be her esteemed captain's.
"Dammit," Santana swore. "Did you ever consider that I might need that?"
Quinn grunted in pain. "Sorry if I'm not terribly concerned for your well being at the moment," she said.
Brittany wiped a damp cloth on Quinn's forehead to help cool her off. She had never delivered such a stubborn baby before, but the child was set on coming at its own pace—a slow, excruciating one at that.
"Is everything alright in there?" Noah called through the door as he paced up and down the narrow corridor that separated the living quarters from the munitions bay.
"All's well that ends well," Santana said, although her hand was beginning to feel numb. She should really pay a doctor to live on board considering all the ailments her crew encountered; gout, vitamin deficiencies, sea sickness, pregnancies. "Mike had better be steering us in the right direction," she muttered, earning her a glare from the mother-to-be.
A deep breath. "He's doing more than you at the moment," Quinn said.
Santana scoffed. "I'm the midwife's assistant."
"You're not doing much assisting," Brittany teased. "I think it's almost time to push, Quinn."
"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you're here, Brittany? Otherwise I'd be stuck giving birth with only Santana's help and she'd be moping about how lonely she is without a woman—ahhh!" Quinn said, a yell escaping her when the pain became almost unbearable.
Brittany gave Santana a crooked smile. "There's always Tina."
"Is it supposed to sound like torture?" Jake asked Noah outside.
Noah shrugged. Of all the illegitimate children he'd fathered, this was the only one he truly cared for. He was in love with Quinn—desperately so—and although she doubted his devotion, he was determined to raise this child with her.
"Push," Brittany ordered.
"I am pushing," Quinn said through her labor pains.
It continued that way late into the night with Quinn's ragged breaths, Noah's pacing, and Brittany's constant encouragement. The only birth Santana had ever been present for was her own, so she was content to watch Brittany work. "Where did you learn to do this?" Santana asked her.
"Curaçao," Brittany replied.
"Bless you," both Quinn and Santana said.
For a moment Brittany was confused. "No, that's where I'm from."
"Ohhh," Santana said in understanding.
Quinn pushed as hard as she could for a few more minutes until the baby's head began to crown.
"Keep going," Brittany instructed.
"Is it safe for me to enter?" Noah asked a short time later.
"Aye, no pirates in here," Brittany joked.
Noah looked at Quinn splayed out on the bed. Her hair was tousled and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but in her arms she held their daughter.
Santana motioned for Brittany to follow her so the new parents could have a moment alone. They passed Jake in the corridor and headed back to Santana's quarters where they often spoke freely with one another.
"That was incredible," Santana gushed once inside, and just as she was about to lavish Brittany with praises, the girl surprised her with a kiss on the lips.
"For assisting me," Brittany explained.
Santana's head buzzed and her heart began to pound. "If that be my reward, I'll have to assist you more often, milady."
Approaching a Familiar Shore, 1716
"Land ho!" Kurt bellowed from his faithful spot high above the rest of the Red Devil's crew. Though night had fallen, he could still make out the seashore.
"We've reached land already?" Brittany asked. She reckoned they were days away from their Jamaican destination.
Her normally brave captain smiled, her usually steady hands nervous. "There's someone I need to make amends with here."
Brittany wondered if she'd ever return to Curaçao, but the thought of Jesse wrenching her away from her home made it seem tainted. Maybe years in the future she'd consider going back, but for now she loved the pirate life and everything it encompassed. "I can accompany you if you'd like," she offered.
Over the past week, Santana had spent more time with Brittany than she'd spent with her over the months they'd sailed together. Every night Brittany had fallen asleep in Santana's bed, curled up in the quilt she'd given to her on the first night they met. Every kiss they shared was just as magical as the first one.
"I'd like that very much, milady," Santana told her. "But for now, let's rest."
She laid Brittany down on her bed, giving her a tender peck on the lips.
Tonight she'd make love to this beautiful woman and tomorrow she'd look forward to waking up on the shores of Saint Kitts yet again.
Saint Kitts, 1716
"Pop?"
Swashbucklin' Schue knew only one person in the entire Earth who called him by that name—but he never thought he'd see her again. "Captain Santana," he said. He gestured for her to come into the modest hut they'd shared for years. "Come in."
"I'm so happy to see you," she told him before going in for a hug.
The look on his face conveyed he returned the sentiment. "And who's this?" he asked when he saw Brittany standing timidly by.
Joy was the only thing Santana felt in that moment. "Pop, this is milady, Brittany," she said, introducing the two most influential people in her life thus far.
"It's an honor." Will bowed, making Brittany giggle.
She curtsied back to him. "The honor is all mine."
"Pop," Santana said, remembering the reason she came here in the first place, "I need to speak with you."
Will put a hand up. "You're already forgiven."
Santana hoped that would still be so after what she had to tell him. "Jesse's...dead."
The news did not surprise Will. In fact, he'd learned of it from April weeks ago. Though he'd always grieve the loss of his son, he still had to be thankful for the daughter he'd never intended on having.
"I beg your pardon," a voice said at the door.
It was a boy Santana had not seen in years. "Island Artie," she said.
"Miss Santana," he said fondly. "I'm afraid I have terrible news."
"Out with it," said Will.
"There's a reward posted for Santana's capture, dead or alive."
Santana had a pretty good idea of who posted the bounty. "That commander thinks someone will turn me in and he can get his hands on Mike."
"What's this commander's name?" Will asked.
"Blaine Anderson," Santana replied.
Will set his jaw, determined to aid his only living child. "If he comes here, I'll stall him."
Artie nodded. "I'll help."
Will gripped Santana's hand. "May the winds carry you to safety."
Brad's Tavern, Saint Kitts, 1716
Island Artie was a nonviolent man, but sometimes he wanted to strangle the naval officers who passed through his trading post. They were much fouler than any of the pirates he knew and thanks to their matching uniforms were easier to spot.
And now they were infiltrating his favorite hangout.
"My good man, I was wondering if you could help me," one officer said to him. Judging by his medals, he was highly ranked and was followed by another man of distinction.
"How may I be of service?" Artie responded warily.
"I'm looking for a man named William Schuester. Do you know him?"
Artie frowned. "Never heard of him, sir."
"I have!" April the barmaid said excitedly. He'd just been to see her that morning for a quick romp in the hay. She pointed West. "He lives on the beach about two miles thataway."
"I appreciate the help, madame," the officer said, bowing low to thank her.
"Good work, April," Artie smiled as he watched the men leave. "I'll start the smoke signal."
She winked at him before going back to her fourth drink of the day.
"Blaine?" the lieutenant asked his commanding officer once they were outside. "Are we really going to torture this man to find out where his daughter is?"
"Yes, Sam. We are."
"Our source said they haven't spoken in over a year!"
"Richard Nelson also told us that she's after something," Blaine said. "Will is going to tell us what that is—and we are going to beat her to it."
En Route to Jamaica, 1716
"Do you think another stop wise?" Noah dared to question Santana. The Red Devil was making good time when his illustrious captain decided to dock on this tiny settlement.
"I need a ring," she answered him.
"Jewelry shopping is not on our list of priorities," he said. "Wait—why do you need a ring?"
"I'm going to ask Brittany to marry me."
Noah thought of Quinn and little baby Beth and wondered how he lived before them. His captain certainly felt the same way about Brittany and if Blaine Anderson was going to chase them to the edges of the earth, then why shouldn't she and Brittany live in holy matrimony as they evaded him? "In that case, ye best be willing to trade in all yer doubloons," he advised.
They scoured the market from top to bottom, but nothing stood out to Santana as something Brittany might like. Come to think of it, she'd never seen Brittany wearing jewels of any sort, not even a pirate's traditional earrings. All of a sudden she spotted her wedding gift to Brittany. "I'll give you everything I've got for that enormous cat," she told the merchant.
Noah pulled her aside. "Are you insane? You want to trade in your riches for that flea-ridden beast?" he said.
The feline took offense at this and hissed at him. The merchant, relieved to finally be rid of this nuisance, agreed to Santana's offer.
Santana and Noah hastily made their way back to the Red Devil. It was no easy feat smuggling the cat onto the ship without anyone noticing, but Noah managed to get it into Santana's quarters with only minor scratches while she kept a vigilant eye out for her beloved.
"I have a surprise waiting for you in our cabin, milady," Santana whispered to Brittany once she found the woman she'd been looking for playing with Quinn's baby.
A wide grin broke out on Brittany's face. "If it's anything like last night, then what are we waiting for?"
Santana stole her away from Beth, who was content to fall back asleep in her mother's waiting arms. She led Brittany back to the quarters by the hand, never letting go for a second. "Brittany," she said, "meet your new pet."
The door swung open and Brittany's eyes immediately went to the cat that leisurely lounged on their bed. "He looks so noble sitting that way," she said. "Like a lord."
"Brittany, the reason why I'm giving you this—" Santana searched for the right words, but none came to mind. "Will you accept my marriage proposal?" she blurted out hopefully.
A single tear rolled down Brittany's cheek as she nodded. "Yes," she said. "I will."
Santana gave her a fiery kiss. "Let's see if Joe is still willing to wed a couple of savages."
Swashbucklin' Schue's, 1716
"It's an ambush!" Blaine called to his men, but they had difficulty hearing him over all the commotion. "Retreat! Draw back," he pleaded. He sought shelter from the crude arrows and poison-tipped darts heading his way. His best man was the only one to hear his command and followed his lead.
"Schuester had to know we were coming," Sam said as they huddled behind a rock.
Blaine nodded. "The islander tipped him off somehow. Come on, he can't hold out forever and we're the Queen's finest!"
"He's clearly not going to give up the information," Sam argued.
Blaine looked Sam square in the eye. "Then he'll hang."
The Gallows of Saint Kitts, 1716
"William Schuester, known to many as Swashbucklin' Schue, you stand accused of the following crimes—"
"Did you ever teach Jesse how to sword fight?"
"Nay, I never did. I wanted to keep my old life a secret, but I made a mistake. I told him every story I knew and changed most of the names—except Sue's. Somehow he found out she was real and began lusting after her gold."
"If I found Sue's treasure I'd give it all to you, Will."
"It's time for your first sword fighting lesson. This is your blade. Watch out, it's sharp. Sharper than your tongue, even. Keep it safe in its scabbard until it's time to use it."
"It's heavy."
"My apologies, Captain Santana! We'll start with something a little lighter and work our way up from there. Try this one. It's a rapier. It has a nice pop."
"Pop?"
"Pop, pop! See? I got you," Will said, pointing out the flaws in her swordsmanship. Her deflections were weak, but her balance was stable and she had one major advantage—she was left handed.
"You didn't even touch me!" Santana argued.
"I'm not going to jab you. You'll just have to pretend for now. Try again," he encouraged.
"Give me time to rest," she said, feigning fatigue before lunging forward with her rapier. "Pop! I got you. Pop, pop, pop."
"How do you plead?"
"You're with child?"
"Yes, William."
"You're certain this time?"
"I know I don't have a reputation for telling the truth, but I waited to tell you until I had some proof."
Terri lifted her skirt up over her stomach, just below her breasts.
Will ran his fingers over the smooth bump. "I'm going to be a father," he said. He paused. "It is mine, right?"
"Probably," Terri replied.
He kissed her stomach. "Good enough for me."
"Your silence is indicative of your guilt and as punishment for these crimes, you will be hanged—"
Will smiled as the noose was slipped around his neck.
A Wedding Aboard The Red Devil, 1717
Santana drank the moment in, savoring each detail on Brittany's freckled face. She'd cherish this woman for all eternity. With the crew gathered behind both of them, there was no greater feeling in the world. Even Sylvester's treasure couldn't compare.
Brittany felt gorgeous in her wedding gown and Santana looked even more dashing in her finest attire. Even Lord Tubbington Jr., her engagement present from Santana, looked the part in a costume designed just for him.
Joe smiled from his makeshift pulpit. He had no objections to this union. As far as he was concerned, there was no better match for his captain than the woman standing right by her side.
"Are we interrupting something?" Admiral Anderson asked. It had taken him ages to track the elusive Captain Santana's vessel down, but he'd finally done it. With the unwitting help of another band of pirates, he'd been able to sneak up on her during this momentous occasion. He no longer cared that Sam had abandoned him in the midst of this manhunt.
"Only my wedding," Santana muttered. She gripped Brittany's hand tighter in case Blaine had any tricks up his sleeve.
"I love weddings," Blaine said. "I'm quite an accomplished singer. It's just too bad this wedding will also be a massacre."
"So this is the thanks I get for sparing your life?" Santana snarled.
"Santana, listen to me—"
"No, Commander, this is a duel to the death," Santana shouted over the roaring waves. "You have compromised everyone that I love. My wife, my crew, and not to mention I know your men hung Will!"
Blaine drew his sword. It glinted in the bright sun, blinding Santana for a moment, but he didn't dare strike. "It's Admiral now. And he ambushed us. Him and those island locals."
Santana regained her eyesight and brandished her own sword. "I don't give a fuck," she hissed as she lunged forward.
The heat bared down on Captain Santana and Admiral Anderson as they dueled. "You're not as bad as I thought," the admiral said.
"And you're not as good as I remember," Santana taunted. She backed Blaine up against the wall until he had nowhere to go.
"Drop your weapon," she commanded. He did as she asked, placing his sword on the ground. As he stood back up, he reached for his hidden pistol. Suddenly, a loud shot went off and he slumped over dead.
Behind Santana was Brittany holding a smoking gun.
"I wish I could have given you a nicer wedding, my dear," Santana sighed. "Maybe one without so much bloodshed."
"All that matters is that we're married now," Brittany spoke, gentle as ever, even after shooting a man through the heart.
"Where would you like to go for our honeymoon?"
"China. I hear they have dragons," Brittany said.
"I was thinking Indonesia, but that'll work," Santana joked, leaning in for their first kiss as a married couple. "Sylvester's treasure is still out there, but it can wait until after we've properly celebrated."
Their life on the high seas would never be a tame one, but it would always be a happy one.
The end.
I hope you enjoyed and that the historical inaccuracies were few and far between even though there were probably many and close together.
Skillz, thanks for your mad beta skillz. You make me look like I know what I'm doing.
And last but certainly not least, thanks to killercereal for helping me write and edit this monstrosity and for the prompt "Brittana as lesbian pirates," which really got the ball rolling. Love ya. If there's ever a sequel I'm making you write it :D