I do not own anything Pirates of the Caribbean. Only Disney...Lucky them. However! Any original characters and storyplots within belong to me!
A/N: Not my first fanfic written, but my first one here. Be gentle folks. As reference, this is set Pre-Curse of the Black Pearl. I've sort of wondered at the tension between Jack and Hector (Barbossa), and wondered if the one thing that vexes all men may have something to do with it.
EDIT: A few, small details have been altered to keep the main female character from seeming too closely (in looks) related to another talented author. Thank you!
A pirate should never feel the burden of love. It is a vulnerability a thief and scallywag can not afford. In the end, any and all good intentions flee in the face of suspicion...
Chapter I
It was a dank, dark place, and the sway of the ship left most of the women ill to their stomachs. For three days they were left like this with no light, nor much food. The stink of excretion and fear hung heavy in the air.
Aislynn pressed a grimy hand to her head in silent thanks, for one of the youngest of the group now lay sleeping in fair peace, her sweat drenched head pillowed in Aislynn's lap. For the peak of their continuing journey many of the smaller girls had fallen ill with dysentery and fever. Some did not survive, and she feared what had happened to their forsaken bodies when their keepers carried them away above deck. By God, they were probably thrown over...
It was no mystery what fate was waiting in store for those who had survived. Pirates had been scourging the Atlantic with increasing frequency the past several years, and as it was; gold, cloth, spices, and supplies were not the only treasures they were seeking. It was said that the sell of captive female flesh was highly profitable in Eastern ports and possibly underground in those select few pirate havens.
The women were a group of twenty or so, of varying origins and wealth, taken from a slew of passenger and merchant vessels that had been making the treacherous route from English shores to British colonies scattered about the islands of the Caribbean. Age, or at least appearing youthful, played an important factor in who was taken. Most of them ranged from thirteen to twenty-five.
For once in her life, Aislynn felt a need to curse her looks. Had she been little better than a hag perhaps she could have been spared the agony of...of...best not to think of such sordid thoughts now. Her skin was a shade just shy of fair, although a few errant rays of sun caused the faintest sprinkling of freckles across her nose from her past weeks sailing. A slender girl, she was hardly buxom. Her figure was, instead, a tad longer than admired, and only softly rounded. She knew it was her other captivating features that wrestled the attentions of males; A set of wide, pale grey eyes, though framed in long pale lash, a giving mouth that was made for gentle smiles, and an unruly catch of auburn tresses currently bound in a loose plait. For the occasion of hopeful suitors, her mother had shamelessly enhanced the hue with henna. Funny that it would be of little good save to attract the attentions of lusty thieves.
Her eyes ranged the limp, and ragged forms of her fellow captives, and for the hundredth time she felt a growing rage bubbling up in her gut. How dare they? How dare they? A woman, no- person, should never be taken for chattel to their primal urge and greed. Had they no shame? It was apparent the laws governed over all of man held no sway in their putrid black hearts. With this though fresh in mind, she sighed deeply and laid her weary hand to the young head at her knees before closing her eyes to silent hopes.