That one time he put her life on the bet
A/N: My first Black Sails drabble. Or better, oneshot. Because this turned out much longer than I anticipated. The only thing I hope is that I didn't make the characters ooc. If I did, you certainly can tell me politely what is wrong and how I can change that, so that I can perhaps take your criticism into consideration if I decide to write another fic in the future. :) I'm sorry for any mistakes concerning the game that is featured in this fic. I looked up the rules and watched a few videos on Youtube, so I get the basic rules, but I am in no way an expert. So I hope that doesn't spoil the fun for people who are. Also, I have no idea if it's possible for Jack to secure his victory through a certain tactic or by using logic, but just roll with it. :p Jack is exceptionally smart and cunning, so I totally see him hacking the system of the Liar's Dice game. Other than that, a review or a fave is very much appreciated! :) Enjoy!
'That's it, little pup. You're walking the plank.'
Vane came walking up to Anne, menace evident in the way he tensed his shoulders and arms, danger advancing with every step. The entire crew fell silent upon hearing the throd of their captain's heavy boots, and carefully gathered around whatever event was going on that would bring some entertainment. Anne's back was facing Vane, as she refused to give him the satisfaction of complying to his silent order to turn around.
Of course she'd known it would come to this. She'd known the moment she decided to lift her hand and deliver a punch that had surely fractured the crewman's jawbone and broken his nose. The pig should've known better than to try and force himself onto her against her will. Anne herself hadn't come unharmed out of the ordeal either – her lip was still swollen, her hand that had met with the man's hard bone structure was lightly bleeding and bruised, and her head hadn't stopped throbbing since the brute had pushed her barbarously into the wall. She had hoped him not to be so pathetic as to actually go and complain to the captain.
'I'm talking to you, wench,' Vane said in his calm, husky voice.
Anne's blood was boiling at the insult, another one on top of the many foul words these men had been carelessly throwing at her for the past three weeks, only because she was a woman. You'd be surprised how creative these men could get when it came to cussing, yet weren't able to translate that inventivity to every-day tasks. Every single fiber in her being urged her to turn around and slap the crap out of her captain's smug face. Luckily for her, Anne was capable of keeping her hot-blooded temper cool in certain situation – a trait that came in a package with her will to survive. So she slowly turned around and politely said the opposite of what her eyes were telling. 'I have a name – '
Before she could finish her sentence, Vane leapt forward and grabbed her face in his one hand, pinching her cheeks and silencing her in an instant. The grip he had on her face was so firm, she felt a little cut on her lip spring open and start bleeding again.
'I am the captain, you answer to me,' he said calmly again, his voice in complete contradiction with his aggressive posture. As he slowly loosened his grip on her face, he gently wiped away the blood from her lips and caressed her temple, pushing the hair out of her face.
'Such a waste of a pretty face.'
As soon as the words left his mouth, she wanted to spit in his face. It was all too late anyway – she was dead meat.
And she would have, if Jack hadn't managed to sleekly maneuver himself in between Anne and their captain, discreetly putting a significant distance between the two.
'Charles, what's happening?' He asked in the smoothest voice he could muster – the voice for negotiation, the voice that would drag a pardon out of a king even after he'd plundered that king's most treasured possessions. Anne knew he was going to get her out of this mess, just by hearing that question. But she also heard the smallest of quivers just at the end of his inquiries.
Underneath all those layers of laid-back, I've-got-this attitude that lay evident in his casually confident posture, Rackham hid the worry he felt over Anne, and the worry over the situation. Vane seemed deadly serious.
'She touched my crew, now she's going to answer for it,' Vane explained matter-of-factly as he pointed to the crewman behind him, holding a cloth to a bleeding nose. Jack would've laughed at the sight of a bulging man on the verge of crying out in pain, had the wheels in his head not turned and turned until they came to the conclusion of what must've transpired between the crewman and Anne, resulting in her having to pay for it with her life.
He was repelled.
'Well all I see is a man who couldn't keep it in his pants, while we clearly – '
'Stop it, Jack. You're not talking your way out of this. I don't even see why you'd bother,' Vane said as he approached closer again, making moves to grab Anne's arm and drag her from behind Jack.
'While we clearly agreed – you, me, her and the entire crew,' he insisted while firmly pushing Vane's needy hands away from Anne. 'That not a single finger would be lain on her unless she asked for it. Now we both know what happened here, don't we? The only one that should be walking the plank –'
Jack was interrupted by Vane laughing mockingly. 'You're delusional, Jack.'
'I'm merely stating the facts.' Jack said smugly in return. He wasn't going to let Vane win this one. Not when her life depended on it.
'Cochon has served me faithfully for three fucking years, Jack. She's been on my ship for only three weeks, yet she hasn't brought me any benefits. Picking her over him would be foolish.'
He merely laughed at Vane's meager attempt to justify what they both knew was a broken code. Vane knew his men had overstepped the boundaries – again. He had difficulty keeping them in control, had to constantly give them what they wanted and this time, they hungered for her flesh. He was more than willing to give that to them if it'd temporarily satisfy them. And Jack knew they had to be satiated in a way, but it would be on Jack's terms.
Jack ran through all the options he had. The crew was agitated – three full weeks at sea was hard, and they longed for some kind of amusement in these troubled times. So watching a member – someone they'd been harassing for weeks – walk the plank was just what they were waiting for. As quartermaster, he could always call out his veto, but taking away their little treat would only further agitate the crew and render him on their bad pages. As for Vane – he'd merely grow suspicious about why Jack would bother calling out a veto as it would in no way benefit him.
Instead, he decided to avert their fixation on Anne's misfortune to something they'd perhaps enjoy even more. A game where her life was at stake. The sensation would feed the crews needs more than enough and she'd end up alive. Of course he'd make sure he'd win. If the stakes were high, he always won. And right now, they'd never been higher before.
'Why do you bother, Jack? Where's the benefit for you in this?'
Jack momentarily feared his captain might see through his whole tirade, knowing fully well that he was doing this because of whatever it was Jack felt for Anne. But then he remembered just how daft Vane was concerning such issues. That didn't however make him stop the tic nerveux causing his hand to start trembling. He placed it on top of the knife that was attached to his belt to try and steady it.
'Look, I'll admit I feel a little responsible for this mishap we seem to find ourselves in. I promised you and your crew no trouble by bringing her to this ship. Sadly, that promise was broken. I also promised you we would benefit from her – hasn't happened yet either. At the same time, I promised her no harm would come to her, yet that didn't go fulfilled either. So it brings me into the crossfire.'
'And what, you're going to walk the plank for her? Now talk about exciting.'
The crew grew enthused by the turn these events seemed to have taken. Jack felt Anne tense completely, and he'd be lying if he'd say he wasn't flattered by her worry over his well-being.
'Now don't mistake me for selfless, Vane. That's just an insult.' Jack grinned. 'How about we bring some fun to these rather bleak events? How about, say, a game of dice? And her life on the bet.' Jack's grin grew in a triumphant smirk, knowing the crew's thoughts about Anne walking the plank were already long forgotten in their enthusiasm for a game with a life at stake, while Vane's growing suspicion as to why Rackham was so insistent on keeping her alive was averted as well. He was intrigued.
'Come on, Cap, it's been ages since we've last played a game. And the crew seems up for it.'
And as to encourage Vane, the men around them started whistling and cheering. Two men already brought a barrel to play on as a third took out two sets of five dice and dice cups accordingly. Only then did Vane's serious face break out into a ghost of a smile, seeing the fun in it.
Throwing his hands in the air he yelled: 'Now where's the rum. I ain't playing a game with Rackham without no rum.' And already one of the youngest members scrambled to his feet to go fetch a bottle.
As Vane came closer, he shook hands with Rackham, clearly euphoric with how things turned around. Euphoric he got to play a game with a friend. Jack must admit they'd found a certain companionship in each other over the year of sailing together. More than once he'd stayed for a little longer in the Captain's quarters to share an exquisite French wine and play a game. That had been ages ago, and the regained familiarity with each other was refreshing. Patting him on the back, he pointed to the dice on the barrel, ready to play. By now, little Gavroche had returned with the bottles as well.
For a moment, Jack got lost in the giddiness that was all over the place on deck, until he turned around and stared into the furious glare Anne threw at him. He saw hurt, regret, fury, disgust and shame. Of course she thought he'd betrayed her in the worst way possible.
He was glad the crew was so preoccupied with setting up the game, because they surely would've noticed the pained expression that momentarily scarred his face as well. He hadn't wanted to hurt her and all he wanted was to explain his motives for the decisions he made. And he knew he would in due time, but now he had to focus on winning the game.
He averted his eyes from her face, as watching her expression would only distract him during the game. Losing was simply not an option, so he could use all the focus he could get.
As Jack made his way over to where the game was taking place, Anne decided she'd seen enough of the joy this crew felt over her misfortune. If she was going to wait for a game that was based solely on coincidence and good luck to decide over her fate, she'd rather be alone. On top of that, she really didn't need the sight of Jack gambling with her life on the bet. The betrayal stung enough as it was. But as she made her way over to the crew's quarters below deck, she was stopped forcefully by Vane as he tugged at her arm.
'You're watching,' he commanded. Jack scowled under his breath as she was pushed backwards into a few men, yet immediately regaining her composure again and standing up straight. One of the men came dangerously close to her – seriously pushing Jack's patience and constraint as to not run up to her and snatch her away from them.
'Hope you're not scared of what's in the water, sweetheart,' he whispered in her ear seductively, grinning like a fool. If looks could kill, Anne's lethal gaze would've struck the man then and there. 'I'm betting five on Vane,' he said more clearly as he turned around and exchanged a few coins with a fellow crewman. A few others followed their example, seeing profit in betting themselves on who was going to win. An exciting murmuring enveloped the entire deck.
Vane placed both of his hands on the edge of the barrel, inching closer to Jack. 'So, what are the terms?'
Jack mimicked his captain's gesture, smugly facing his captain. He blocked all of his concern over Anne out, finding himself in a calculating and perhaps an over-confident mood. 'We play one round. If I win, she lives. If you win…' He shrugged indifferently as he smiled suggestively, keeping the mood light. 'Then she's yours.'
He reached out his hand to shake on it, which Vane gladly returned. After that, they clinked their bottles of rum together, uttering that the best may win as they both took a sip. Anne rolled her eyes at their conviction that this game – which was called Liar's Dice for fuck's sake, she thought bitterly – could be won with skills, but of course kept her mouth shut. The waiting was killing her as she felt death inching closer with the minute. If this was going to be how it ended, she just wanted to get it over with. Her nerves were wrecking her by now. In order to stop her hands from trembling, she crossed her arms and tried to keep them steady.
The men both took their cup with dice and shook them, placing them simultaneously on the surface of the barrel again. Jack nodded, saying Charles could start the game by looking at his dice. As he lifted the cup, Jack could see right through the poker face his captain tried to put on. It wasn't working and from that moment, Jack knew he was going to make a rash bet. The guy was just too impulsive for his own good.
'Five sixes,' he bluffed as he put the cup back down, taking another sip from the rum. Jack was gleaming victoriously on the inside, but not a muscle on his face betrayed his joy. He lifted up his cup and was met with only one six, knowing far too well that Vane having four sixes was highly unlikely, even on the verge of impossible. If he was in the mood for a risk, if losing a game would merely mean a crack in his honour, he would rile up the crowd and call the bet a spot on. But with Anne's life at stake, all risks and potential failure had to be eliminated, only leaving inevitable victory in sight.
'You're a liar, Vane,' he chuckled eagerly, challenging Vane to step it up a notch if he wanted to have an exciting game. As they both raised their cups to reveal the dice, it appeared Vane had only two sixes, which meant three sixes in total, thus making Vane indeed a liar. As Vane took away one dice from his set, Jack grinned.
'Now you leave me to wonder – do you want me to win this game?' Jack asked playfully, throwing the dice back into his cup one by one.
'Just checking if you're still awake in there, Jackie.' Jack grinned in reply at the nickname, something Vane hadn't used in ages.
'Well, Chaz,' he fired back as he shook his cup again and forcefully placed it on the surface, only to be followed by Charles. 'I'll have to take that as an insult,' he smiled as he lifted his cup, since according to the rules, the winner of a round is allowed to look first. He was faced with an unfortunate set of dice, the highest being one five. 'Two fives,' he said, deciding again to take no risk.
Vane looked at what lay underneath his cup and decided to call out a higher bet. 'Three sixes.'
Jack had to admit that the bet was far more thought-through than his first bet. It left Jack in a precarious position, as Vane having three sixes wasn't improbable. But if he bet higher himself, Vane would know in an instant that he was lying. Otherwise, Jack wouldn't have started with as low a bet as two fives. But if Vane was one thing, it was predictable.
'You're spot on, Vane,' Jack told him conceitedly as he drank from the bottle of rum. The what appeared to be risky assumption Jack just made, had the whole crew whistling and murmuring in curiosity. As they both lifted up their cups, it appeared that luck was on Jack's side. Exactly three sixes were found underneath Vane's cup, which made the crew grow wild with excitement.
Vane snorted unbelievably, raising his brows. 'Now you're the one leaving me to wonder how you got so good at this game.' Jack had to refrain himself from sniggering, remembering how many games he'd had his captain win back in the day, only because it would feed Vane's self-esteem. In return, Jack would benefit from his good mood.
'Well, I had some practice,' he evaded the question as he urged Vane to remove another dice from his set with his eyes. With only three dice left on Vane's set, things seemed to get awfully easy. But Jack didn't allow himself to feed on this assumption. It would be too easy.
Jack decided to let Vane win the next round, as the crew would probably grow restless if Jack kept winning successfully round after round. So when he once again lifted his cup to reveal two sixes, one five and two threes, he called out his next bluff, convinced Vane was going to bet higher again. 'One six.'
'Two sixes,' Vane said after having checked his own set of three dice. Not as rash as Jack had expected, but his bet was reasonable, given the fact he only had three dice left.
'Three sixes,' Jack countered, riling up the crowd in excitement, urging Vane to bet higher. But he seemed to have found himself in tight pants, as Jack could read off of his face. And just like that, Jack knew Vane had not a single six underneath his cup.
'You're a liar, Jack,' he replied in defeat, the crowd booing at the lame bet while a few coins here and there were exchanged between a few men. As the cups were raised, only Jack's two sixes were revealed, making him the liar for this round.
'I was beginning to fear you'd lost your touch, cap!' Rackham grinned as he removed one dice from his set.
Looking at the crowd, he couldn't help but notice Anne in the corner of his eye, hiding whatever she was feeling underneath the brim of her hat. But he saw her hand clutching onto the sleeve of her vest, so hard her knuckles had turned white. She was afraid and he didn't think he'd ever seen her fear anything. He hated the sight, but it merely convinced him to win the game faster. No more wrong bets on purpose just to rile up the crew. He was going to slay Charles.
'I'm just getting started,' Vane said as he shook his cup, put it down again and watched his set. 'One five.' A safe bet. As Jack watched his set, he found a lucky two sixes, securing another win.
'Three sixes,' Jack said, completely over with all the casualty and joy. He just wanted to get it all over with, return to his quarters with Anne and tend to her injuries. Though he feared whether she'd still let him after what he was putting her through.
'Four sixes,' Vane replied, only for Jack to call him out as a liar. Revealing the cups, there were only two sixes to be found. Vane threw a few suspicious gazes at Jack while he took the third dice from his set, only leaving two. If Jack won another round, it was over.
Trying to avoid his captain's lingering gaze, Jack gulped down the remaining rum. As Vane was still shaking his cup, Jack had already put it down, impatiently waiting for Vane to put it down as well. As it just reached the surface, Jack lifted his cup, cussing internally as he saw his highest dice was only one five.
'Two fives,' he said, watching Vane contemplate what he was going to say next as he inspected his own dice.
'Three fives,' he said calmly. As Jack already raised his cup to reveal the dice underneath to Vane and the crowd, he called Vane out as the liar again.
Little Gavroche, who could barely reach the barrel, peeked at what the outcome was, keeping the crew in anxious anticipation.
'Two fives! Jack won!' he called out in joy. 'Jack won.'
The men started yelling, fuelled by the entertainment the game had brought them. Some happily exchanged coins, while others angrily threw theirs in other men's faces, storming off, pushing men happily jumping to the sound of a flute out of their way. It was one big ruckus of joy and anger and disappointment and music. Amidst the chaos, Anne felt herself release a breath of relief she hadn't realized she was holding. Her fists unclenched, but she had to steady her hands again as the trembling had only multiplied in comparison with earlier. Never had death so eagerly knocked on her door – and she'd found herself in multiple precarious situations. So the relief washing over her shook her to the bone.
Jack watched as Vane calmly took out a cigar and lit it. As he puffed out the smoke in little ringlets, he demanded Rackham to look at him with his eyes.
'This entire game reeks of betrayal, Jack.' This was something just between captain and quartermaster, as the crowd was too cheery to notice any of their current conversation going on.
'Vane, please,' Jack pleaded sarcastically. 'While I do know that I am smarter than the average male buccaneer, assuming that I cheated a game based on luck, would be giving me far too much credit, even if I say so myself.'
'Why so eager to let her live?' he asked as he pointed his cigar at the empty space right behind Jack. As he looked behind him, Jack was met with Anne, who'd silently crept just behind him, as if looking for a rock in the fire that was the crew. Jack turned to his captain again.
'Like I said, for the sake of my conscience. I hardly sleep as it is, after three fucking weeks on this ship. Not obstructing her death, while she is under my protection, would keep me from having my much-valued beauty sleep,' he stated simply, moving his hands to indicate it was all so evident.
Vane crudely advanced towards Rackham, looking him up and down. 'This isn't you, Jack. What? Does she fuck you in exchange for protection?'
Jack felt Anne inch forward, knew her palm was on the hilt of her knife, ready to plunge it through his chest if one more step was taken towards the both of them, if one more insult was uttered by his foul mouth. He indirectly stopped her from doing so by inching forward himself, placing him right in front of her. He smiled his signature smirk, only to be followed by a few laughs while Vane brought his cigar to his lips in confusion.
'I thought you knew we fucked, Charles,' he said incredulously. 'I bet the entire crew knows, and hell, they don't have it all up and running up here,' Jack said meekly as he brought his fingers to his temple, indicating he meant their brains. 'Unlike you, of course.'
Vane frowned, surprised that Rackham just blatantly confessed to him he had an affair with the female assassinator. Here he was again, thinking being a step ahead of Jack, while he was the one who was one hundred steps ahead of his captain instead. He didn't know whether to start laughing, or beating him up here and now in anger.
Jack confidently went up to Vane, put an arm around his shoulder amicably and took his cigar with his other hand, taking a drag. As he puffed out the smoke, he affectionately patted Vane on the chest, only to receive a doubtful look in return.
'Now that that's cleared up, you don't have a thing to worry about,' Jack smiled, taking one last drag from the cigar and placing it between Vane's lips again. 'Except for Cochon's balls, because I can't assure that Anne won't be slicing those off in the near future,' Jack continued gleefully, patting Vane's cheeks, wondering if he was pushing it just a tad too far. He couldn't help it – he was having way too much fun.
'Cochon, I'd be guarding those tonight, if I were you,' he winked at the pig because of whom all of this mess had started in the first place, while still casually leaning against Vane, arm draped around his captain's broad shoulders. 'Like I said, I can't guarantee a thing,' he shrugged.
Anne would've smiled, had she not been so angry with Jack. He was the only one who actually recognized what she was capable of. But it didn't matter, she'd show all these men in due time. She looked behind her and saw the brute throwing the rag he'd been stemming the blood with, onto the ground in anger.
'Now Charles, once we go ashore, you will kiss my feet in gratitude that you have not made her walk the plank. Just, trust me on this one. She'll be worth all of this trouble.'
Vane squirmed himself out of Jacks hold, going over to Anne and blowing a cloud of smoke into her face. She refused to budge, even if the smother stung her eyes.
'You broke his nose, with just your fist?'
She wasn't sure what he expected from her, as this was the first time he directly asked her a question and probably expected an answer. So she just nodded.
'When we go ashore, you won't leave my side. And then I'll see whether Jack's trust in you is justified.'
His eyes followed the bruises on her knuckles, still slightly bleeding. 'But you seem promising.'
She was so focused on Vane, she didn't even notice Jack coming up to them until he grabbed a hold of her upper arm – noticeably far less forceful than Vane had done earlier.
'I suggest she stays at my quarters from now on. Just for general safety. Of the crew, of course,' he added playfully, while he strung her along across the deck as he made his way to his quarters. The last thing she saw before disappearing into the crowd, was a dumbfounded Vane scratching his chin in wonder.
{ -x- }
Jack hastily closed the doors that led to his room behind him, blocking out the commotion that continued on deck all but completely. He lingered there for a moment, facing the dark wood, following the little cracks and holes with his eyes. A silence almost as painful as the gaze they'd shared earlier fell upon them. Not entirely sure how to break it, he moved his hand up to trace the ornamental carvings in the wood. As if on cue, he heard Anne move away and place her belt with her weapons attached to it on the surface of his commode, just a tad too harshly. He momentarily worried about all the loot that was stacked upon that commode, as he heard something valuable fall to the ground and break. He turned around and watched her wet a cloth in the water basin that stood among his many other prized possessions he'd gathered over the year, right in front of a colossal mirror of which the edges were adorned with golden roses, from which pearls, chokers, necklaces and other jewelry hung. He noticed the small bottle of perfume he'd received as a gift from a fancy lady back in France, lying broken on the ground. Not worrying about the bottle anymore, he moved his eyes up again, watching how Anne attempted to wash away the blood on her knuckles. Only her impatience and anger seemed to have her scrape open the wounds more in frustration, as she urgently attempted to get it over with. Jack rushed over to her side and took the rag from her, stopping her from causing any more damage. Instead, he took her bruised hand in his and gently dabbed the remaining blood and dirt away. Worry overtook him when he suddenly heard her sniff, but again her hat refrained him from seeing her eyes.
'Anne, darling, did I … Did I hurt you?' He subconsciously squeezed the hand that was lying in his palm more harshly. When he didn't receive an answer, except for the continued sniffing as her hand went up and under her hat to wipe away what he presumed were tears, he put the cloth aside and moved her hat out of the way to reveal her face, which was stained with tears.
Now he was really worried. Sure, he'd expected Anne to ignore him, to rage, to insult him, to slap him. But crying? He'd never seen her cry before.
The moment her hat was lifted from her face entirely, she seemed to put her guards back up again, throwing him the nastiest glare he'd seen so far from her his way. It was a look that told him all that she was incapable of telling him through words, yet at the same time he seemed at a loss of wits to comprehend any of it. He was literally slapped out of his thoughts as she pulled up her hand and brought it up to his cheek, smacking him so forcefully he actually stumbled backwards for a moment, dropping her hat in the process.
'What the –'
'I hate you,' she sneered through gritted teeth, as another tear rolled across her cheek. As she abruptly turned around again, as if hiding from him, the little shells and pearls woven into her hair made a clinking sound. He saw how she desperately tried to dry the tears with the sleeves of her coat, perhaps embarrassed about her sudden outburst of emotion. Normally, she was the complete opposite – coolheaded and emotionally detached.
He brought his hand up to the cheek she'd struck and tried to rub the stinging pain away, to no avail.
'Has it not gotten through that thick head of yours that I just saved your life out there?!' No matter how much Jack liked her and cared about her well-being, he wasn't about to let her play him like that. If she was going to have a say in the matter, then so was he. 'If it weren't for me, they'd have happily fed you to the sharks. And that would be a gentle punishment by Vane's standards. I've seen buccaneers punished far worse for far lesser crimes. You can count yourself lucky I was there, do you realize that?'
'Lucky you were there?' she yelled as she spun around again, the beads in her hair fortifying her question. 'It was you who was lucky, Jack. That fucking game could've turned out completely differently! What if Vane was more lucky? I would've died anyway, and I wouldn't have had any say in it! That's fucked up, Jack! You were in control of my life. I hated it. I hated you!'
He saw the anger seeping away with every insult she threw his way, making place for fear instead. Rubbing his face tiredly, a desperate sigh managed to escape. He was not used to women crying, and wasn't familiar with how to deal with such a situation.
'Look, Anne. I was one hundred percent certain that I was going to win that game. If that weren't the case, I'd have found another way out for you. You know far too well how deep my affections for you run, despite you failing to reciprocate them.'
'Yet you casually tell our captain and everyone who was there to hear that we fuck around. Am I property now, Jack?'
'They fucking know we fuck around! Wasn't that the deal we made? We knew hiding it would be to no avail, so let's just be blatantly obvious about it. No strings attached! Just the quartermaster fucking the assassin in exchange for her safety on board. Only our captain seemed too daft to notice, so he was having these tiny voices in his head whispering theories about how the two of us were conspiring a mutiny behind his back, hence his aggressive behaviour towards you and his diminished companionship towards me lately. Assuring him you mean no more to me than the occasional fuck will ease his suspicions and give us a place to ourselves in the meantime,' he caught his breath as the words finally ceased pouring out of his mouth, watching her desperately as he saw the words sinking in.
'You won't have to sleep below deck anymore,' he whispered at last, hoping she could see all her why's answered.
He knew Anne had been raised in an aristocratic family and he was sure she had no issue understanding. Her pride however very easily clouded her judgement. He'd hurt her, now she was just giving him a hard time in return. So she pulled her fences up, guarding them with another lethal glare as she spat into his face again.
'Sleeping below deck was never the issue, Jack! Being treated as an equal was the issue. None of them ever bothered to look past my tits and long hair, no matter how I dress or behave.'
'God damn it, Anne,' he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. 'There's just no winning with you, is there?'
He traced his moustache with his fingers, trying to ease his nerves. She was a storm – one of her many traits he loved about her, but not when he was caught right in the middle of it.
'Look, you can sleep with me, you can sleep on the couch, hell – you can sleep on the floor for all I care, but you're staying in here.'
She was looking down, trying to aver her gaze from his which she found tremendously difficult without her usual hat as a hideout. As to make her listen, he stepped a little closer and placed his thumb underneath her chin, pushing her head up so she was forced to look at him.
'I won't let those bastards touch you. Not again.'
He couldn't exactly read the million things that flashed through her eyes, but for a moment he could've sworn he saw a glimpse of affection. Or perhaps his tired mind was merely playing tricks on him, making him see what he wished to see. It only lasted for a heartbeat however, only for her to snatch her face free and make her way to the couch standing in front of the window looking out at sea. She snatched her hat from the floor in the process, put it on and plopped down onto the divan, leaning her head on the glass of the window.
'That's clear enough for me', Jack nodded to himself. He felt defeated, even though he'd won the biggest prize he'd ever win today – her life. Seating himself onto the edge of his bed, he watched her completely curled up, looking at whatever it was she was seeing in the ocean. As he saw her like that, he cursed her for her withdrawn nature. No matter how he tried, she just didn't let him in that head of hers. Oh what he would give to sail the oceans that made up her mind.
Over the years he'd wooed many fair ladies, yet of all the women that had made it to his bed, it was Anne Bonny he had to fancy. The one who didn't even remotely feel the same.
Which still didn't mean he'd stop trying to make her change her mind about him. With that as his last thought, he took off his shirt and crawled underneath his sheets to catch some sleep.
{ -x- }
'Jack?' she whispered as she watched him sleep, the moon the only source that illuminated his peaceful face. He didn't stir.
'Jack.' She urged, giving him a little push. He finally woke up with a disgruntled face, but the moment her face came into his vision, worry replaced all annoyance.
'Is something wrong?' He pushed himself up to see her more clearly. She was kneeling beside his bed, fiddling with the fabric of the mattress. She shook her head, the beads and shells tangled in her hair coming as music to his ears. He noticed her hat was discarded on the sofa.
'I'm just cold,' she shrugged, finally looking up. He knew it was more than just the cold that bothered her, pushing her to come knocking at his bed, but he decided not to go into it. She wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So he swiftly moved to the side to make room for her, holding up the sheets so she could crawl underneath them.
The moment he dropped the covers, she turned her back to him again as if reminding him she was still angry. Pretending he didn't notice, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible, and buried his face in her hair, placing a small peck on her bare shoulder.
'I love you,' he mumbled into her shoulder. 'All of you. Even this.'
He felt her tense entirely at the contact and the words he'd uttered, but he couldn't be bothered by it. Not anymore. She'd ignored his affections more than once – he'd gotten used to it by now.
'Stop that,' she whispered, yet didn't make any move to wriggle out of his embrace.
'Stop what, darling?' he smirked, playing dumb.
'You know what.' She sounded annoyed, yet frail at the same time. 'I'm not gonna say it back, so you should just spare yourself of the effort.'
He was surprised by the blatant honesty that fled her mouth and wanted to push her to tell him more.
'You're worth all my efforts.' He meant for it to come out jokingly, yet the moment the words had left his mouth, he realized how serious he was. Not a timbre of humour could be found in his voice, and he wondered whether it'd scare her.
After a moment of silence, she slowly turned around so she was facing him, his arm loosely draped around her figure.
'The last man I told I loved, I stabbed in the back. Literally,' she frowned at him, annoyed that he'd never seen before this was exactly where her issues lay.
'Oh, I know, darling. I was there. You were tattered in blood, shaking like a leaf. I wrapped you in my coat and tucked you in bed.'
Ignoring him, she continued. 'And before that, I set my father's house on fire, knowing he was still inside. I danced in front of the flames.'
Jack's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She'd never really told him all that much about her life before she became a sailor's wife. He was intrigued as he tried to imagine her dancing like a maniac while her father burned inside. What he would've given to behold such a sight.
'Why'd you burn your father's house?'
'He disowned me for running away with James,' she shrugged as if it was all so self-explanatory. Jack nodded in understanding.
'And when I was twelve, I stabbed a servant – someone I considered a close friend – in the leg, because she gave James Bonny the eyes.' She begged with her eyes for him to see what she was trying to get at.
'I don't see the issue, darling,' he confessed, still frowning in confusion. He was elated she was actually willing to talk to him tonight, to open up about a part of her that he hadn't gotten to see yet. But it left him confused as well.
'I wasn't made to love, Jack,' she told him desperately, turning around again so she was facing the ceiling. 'I wasn't made to be loved.'
Her eyes were glistening with the promise of more tears, but refusing to have her shed any more tears tonight, Jack pushed himself up and playfully grabbed her waist to pull her towards him, towering over her.
'I'm not afraid of you if that's what you're trying to imply,' he smirked, trying to lighten the mood. He noticed how her hair had found its way onto her face again, and he gently smoothed it out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. He counted himself lucky he was one of the few whom she considered to be privy to what she always hid underneath her hair and hat. She was beautiful.
'You should be,' she told him in all seriousness, almost threatening. He knew any sane guy wouldn't bother with her, but all that was askew about her would never outweigh the tiny moments of joy she brought to his life. It was the most irrational thing he'd ever experienced, and he couldn't get enough of it.
Ignoring her, he moved down to trace kisses on her neck, moving them up to her jaw – not failing to make her moan - until he reached the corner of her lip. She pulled away and he had to suppress a grin, remembering how she'd once told him kissing was just a waste of time. He knew she didn't like any intimacy during sex, but he never failed to momentarily forget that.
'Will you get to it already?' she asked him eagerly.
'I'm happy to oblige, love.'
Smirking, he instead moved towards her belly, pushing away the hem of her shirt and tracing his kisses down her stomach instead of up. The hairs on her body rose in anticipation and her moaning continued. He stopped when he reached the brim of her breeches, looking up teasingly.
'Will you stop fucking around?' she said as she looked up at him, trying to hide both the amusement and irritation in her eyes. She was right where he wanted her now.
'Oh, you want me to stop?' he moved away to sit up.
'Jack!' she yelled from where she was laying. 'Jack, get back down here.' And there it was, the tiny hint of a giggle in her voice. It was probably the most he would get out of her – for now – but still it was music to his ears.
Annoyed with his teasing, she sat up herself, her beads completely in tune with her laughter. She looked so young now, and Jack was momentarily reminded that she was still only seventeen, alone on a ship, and today just barely evaded death. And he felt the sudden urge to just embrace her tightly again, as he'd done on the night she'd murdered her supposed significant other.
His thoughts were interrupted with the crashing of her lips on his, completely taking him by surprise. Her kiss started out passionately, almost urgently as if she wanted to just get it over with, only to soften into a mere peck on his lips, lingering there. She grinned against his lips.
'Now happy?'
He grinned back.
'Ecstatic.'
It was all it took for him to happily oblige to whatever it was she asked. At least for the night.
A/N: First and foremost – I'm still not happy with this. I am aware of certain mistakes and loopholes. But at the same time, I'm not a professional writer and this doesn't have to be perfect. It's just for fun. :) So please remember that when reviewing this little thing.
I really hope I don't get hate for the way I chose to portray Anne Bonny. I hope you can see that I di want to make her weak by simply making her put up with all the shit that is thrown her way, either from the crew, from Vane and even from Rackham. I just consider this oneshot to be set around approximately one year previous to the canon Black Sails series. And a lot can happen in one year. She obviously hasn't shown her value to the crew and to captain Vane yet, so that leaves her in a position where the only pillar on the entire ship she has, is Rackham's word that he'll protect her. So she has to blindly trust him, because that is her ticket to prosperity; a.k.a getting on Vane's good side and in return getting more privileges. So when he pulls shit like this, she can't do a thing about it, and that infuriates her, but makes her keep her mouth shut at the same time. On top of that, they have this thing going on which makes it all the more difficult. As always, when feelings get involved, it all suddenly becomes much harder.
And Anne crying? I'm sorry! But let's just remember that quote about writing strong women, women who long for a husband, women who don't need no man or women who cry. Anne may be tough as hell, but she's still a human, a girl and in here, just evaded death. And while I believe Anne isn't afraid of dying, I do believe that this situation here scared her beyond relief just because she didn't have any part in it. She didn't decide her fate. No, luck did! And Jack did. And she's just not there for that kind of shit. I can see her dying without any fear, but only in situations where she can pull out her sword and fight for her life HERSELF until the very end. Not by the hands of anyone else.
I'm sorry if you don't like it, and don't be afraid to tell me what you think is wrong and what could be changed (within reason of course, because I do hope you see what I meekly attempted to achieve in here :p). And sorry for the potentially overload-amount of fluff towards the ending (though this is nothing compared to ships I shipped from other fandoms!), but I just couldn't help myself. :)
And omg, I've been writing this fic since February the thirteenth (I wanted to upload this for Valentine's day, but I was so scared of putting it up, and I still am. :p But here it is anyway.), but in the last episode, Vane degradingly refers to Anne as 'dog' and just, the fact that my first sentence is Vane saying 'little pup' to Anne is just – ahgj;dsgh. It just f i t s.