This was it. Today, Rachel Berry would take fate into her own hands and seize the fame and stardom she (unquestionably) deserved. Ambitious and fierce brown eyes met an identical pair, via reflection, as she stared into the shard of mirror nestled in her hands. She took the lone piece with her everywhere she went and had done so from a young age. It was silly, but it meant a lot to the girl. The precious item lay sheathed in a worn cloth, her thumbs gently caressing the fabric as she mentally recited her daily monologue. Over the years, she found life to be more bearable with a few encouraging words formed into a delightful little mantra.
Using her various, well-honed talents (such as singing, acting, dancing, and all things theatrical), she would catch a noble's attention and finally be someone worth more than the sideways glance she was accustomed to. She would prove that greatness was not determined by gender, aristocratic blood, or family connections. It was through hard work and shear aptitude.
Kurt sighed, a tad overdramatically, as was his usual, when he spotted her at the highest point of the ship – the lookout station. Compared to the ruffles, ribbons, and cascading, over-the-top bows the women he catered to wore, Rachel stood in a mere petticoat, a carefully woven top, and a shawl keeping the cold at bay. It was sad to see her in what she would call her best attire. However, she was gazing up at the night sky with a faraway look on her face; thinking of things so much bigger than herself and her present limitations.
"Turn around, bright eyes."
The young man greeted as he leaned against the white wooden pole, brushing a lock of his groomed hair behind his ear as he spoke. Rachel made a startled sound in the back if her throat, one that resembled a frightened puppy, and nearly fell out of the small confinement.
"K-Kurt!" She shouted as she clung to the railing for much needed support. The heels she were given did not help and since she wasn't used to such fancy footwear, she stumbled even more and nearly whined as she tried to keep her balance.
"You're a natural up there." he teased in his ever girlish way as he gave her his signature smile, clearly enjoying her many struggles.
"What, might I ask, are you doing out here?" The brunette questioned in a forced calm tone as she carefully, oh so carefully, made her way down the ladder, one shaky step at a time.
"I could ask you the same, but alas, I already know the answer. More to the point, General Schuester and his," he paused to make air quotations. "'esteemed guests' want their performance of the evening."
Kurt explained coolly as he turned his back to her approaching form and smoothed out the waiter's robes he had been given not five minutes prior. It was quite dull in appearance, a dreary, despicable grey, but far more pleasing to the eye than the scraps of cloth he previously sported. It would have shamed him to be in the same room as the nobles in his previous attire if it weren't for his natural pride in himself.
He could hear the sharp intake of breath, a nervous, exaggerated trait of hers, among many others. Rachel looked at him fearfully and due to working with her for two years, he knew of her silent inquiry right away.
"They've had a few drinks, yes."
She instantly drew her bottom lip between her teeth, alternating between sucking and tentatively biting the pink flesh. Drinking was bad. Her audience would not only be intoxicated from the wine, but also from each other's presence and they would fail to appreciate her show. However, she wouldn't let pessimism get to her. She was Miss Rachel Barbara Berry and absolutely nothing would come between her and her dream.
She would make sure of it.
Giving him a resolute nod, she faced the doorway, and unable to peer through the window, due to height difference, she looked over her shoulder at Kurt. He immediately made eye contact with a William Schuester and gave him a curt (aha, punny) nod, telling him she was ready.
"Go for gold, Rach." He lightly gripped her shoulder before giving her a soft push towards the door. She turned the golden knob and tentatively made her way into the extravagant room. The theme seemed to be white and gold (the military's main colors) and the guests themselves looked like proud, albeit drunken, troops. This did not raise her spirits. Swallowing back a nervous lump, she made her way towards the middle of what she assumed was the dance floor.
The polished wooden floor nearly made her stumble, her heels squeaking against it as she walked. Her nerves were flaring up again, but she would be damned if she let it get to her. Once she was well situated and the band was aware of her presence, Will Schuester stood and tapped his spoon against his wine glass.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Rachel Berry."
There were several respectful claps and someone slurred out some sort of pick-up line.
Tonight would be interesting, but she would persevere.
After she was given her cue, she immediately began singing. It was a well known tune, she could tell by the looks that registered on some of the guests' faces. Rachel herself could never tell, for she would merely sing songs she heard on the streets. Sit outside the same shop long enough and her killer memory would prove useful.
As the jingle began to get more dramatic, she started to throw herself further into her performance, that faraway look back on her face and her arms animatedly moving to the lyrics, telling a story of their own. She closed her eyes as the chorus came to an end, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. She couldn't stop herself from crying, it happened every performance. If she had to guess, she would say that it was because of how badly she wanted recognition and just how much devotion she put into a single song. She always took lyrics to heart.
The brunette was just nearing the end of the song when the sound of splintering wood crashed through the air. The girls began to scream, as noble women are prone to do, and even Rachel herself gave off a shriek. Will was already standing up, sobering instantly as he approached a ready group of men to follow him down to the cabins.
Meanwhile, Rachel stood like a deer in headlights, her heart pounding, and her mind coming up with ridiculous scenarios. However, her thoughts were abruptly cut off due to the sudden appearance of a blonde woman with fairly short hair bursting through a window. Once she was stationary, she let go of the rope in her hands and began dusting off her robes. She sported thick, worn boots that reached her knees, matching black pants stuffed inside them. A tight necked satin top was covered by a crimson cloak, the color bright enough to be caught in a crowd. A musketeer's hat was on her head, a long feather protruding from the top. Worse of all, there was a white eye patch covering her left eye. Nonetheless, she looked quite proper, but rough, and dare I say cruel as well.
The room was as silent the sea itself, many too afraid to make a sound and catch the stranger's attention. A woman in the back was clinging to her man's arm, as if prepared to climb up him as a means of escape. Rachel couldn't, wouldn't move a muscle and for once hoped she didn't stick out.
The woman was fairly recognizable, for her wanted poster was hung upon nearly every wall in London. Captain Sue Sylvester of the ManEater. Her group of "harpies" were well known for pillaging towns and killing all of their men. Judging from her appearance on their vessel, she still held a grudge for William Schuester. Rumor had it that he was the one who blinded her and had her imprisoned for a decade.
A sharp whistle came from the pirate's lips, the noise causing Rachel to flinch and before she knew it, another woman came through the same window.
She was slightly shorter than the first, but shared the same blonde hair, though hers was covered by a black bandana. These locks stopped at her shoulders in choppy lengths, as though it were cut only a few hours beforehand. Her hazel eyes held a stony resignation and the set of her jaw seemed to further prove it.
She was wearing a loosely fitted, slightly ruffled shirt, usually worn by a man, and a navy cloak. A white sash was tightly fastened around her waist from underneath and from the dark smudges on it; it was safe to say that she was slightly injured. She joined her elder's side in seconds, her hand at her rapier. It was an odd weapon, usually reserved for fencing, and while it appeared to suit the woman, it did not suit her occupation.
"Now tell me." The older of the two spoke as she began to strut across the room, her eyes meeting each guest. "Where is William Schuester?"
She huffed a displeased laugh at the silence she was given and looked back at her companion. "Always the hard way. Call the Harpies, Ondine."
A few guests gasped, instantly recognizing the term, but not having associated it with her companion. Ondines were known to be mythical aquatic creatures capable of stealing a man's soul by marrying them and bearing their child. It was a common insult to a woman who was deemed unfit for marriage and society. When one falls into an ill sleep, it is known as the Ondine's Curse, in fear that one may have hypnotized them, as they were known to do to those who infuriated them.
The so called Ondine retreated to the broken window and stuck her head out the window before singing a high note, one that Rachel herself felt confident of being able to hit. Within seconds, seven other women had forced their way onto the ship.
One of the men arose from his seat and ran up to the superior, prepared to protect the women who were left behind. The captain gave him a mere glance before reaching into her robes and pulling out a pistol, instantly shooting him in the stomach. He met the cold, hard floor and in that one moment, all hell had broke loose.
The sound of the gunshot seemed to knock Rachel into her senses, sending her into survival mode. She had to get out of here. Get Kurt and escape. That was her mission.
While the captain laughed at the man's foolishness and the girlish shrieks emanating the room, the brunette slowly slipped off to the side of the room, but her movements did not go unnoticed.
Hazel eyes had caught on to her sudden relocation and watched her curiously. Rachel was whispering to members of the band, her face a mask of concentration. She should warn her master.
"Captain, I-"
A tuba, followed by several brass horns, sounded and the captain whipped her head back at the sudden commotion. She immediately barked out orders to both silence the noise and to have some of her women make sure none escaped.
However, Rachel had already slipped out the door and was on the other side, pinned to the doorway. Her heart pulsed in her ears and she had to squeeze her eyes shut as her breathing came out harsh and panicky. The brunette was literally jerked away from her small safe haven as another explosion went off. It was then that she realized what was going on.
They were sinking.
This woman, whoever she was, clearly had no intention of simply negotiating with Schuester and being on her way. She was out to kill the man and everyone involved.
Fear struck her very essence and for the hundredth time that night, she didn't know what she would do. But one thing was for certain. She had to move. And fast.
"Captain Sylvester, I'm certain one did escape."
"Well you know what to do then, Ondine. After them!"
The Ondine nodded sharply and wretched the door she saw the brunette escape through open. She never let one escape. It was what put her in good favors with the captain.
She scanned the deck, looking for any signs of the woman, her finger tracing a pattern on the handle of her rapier.
Ah, there.
Movement to her right. A shuffling, really.
Her boots, though heavy, barely made a sound when she moved. It was as though she glided across the floor. Like a natural killer, she was silent.
"Kurt, we need to get out of here!" A desperate voice spoke and frantic movements were heard. "I know I'm often one for theatrics but I-"
Rachel's words were cut off by a small, sharp pain prodding her between the shoulder blades. It was the insisting nudge of a well-cared for fencing sword. Kurt hadn't even noticed the attacker's presence and unfortunately when he finally did, it was too late.
"M'lady." The blonde greeted in a light tone, despite the threatening of her rapier. The brunette tensed against its point, the action only causing it to dig in a little deeper. The rogue studied her movements with a sick fascination, her eyes flicking to Kurt's frightened look with similar interest. "Now… Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pierce your lovely skin and spear your heart on my sword."
Rachel gulped at her words, forcing down a nervous lump as she stared resolutely ahead, her gaze drifting to her dear friend every now and then. "B-Because…" She stopped to clear her throat, unwilling to come off as weak to the woman. "Because one day I will become someone greater than you."
She had no doubt about it. She would become someone who far surpasses a mere pirate, no matter how well-known the pirate was. Yes, she had seen the Ondine's wanted poster before. The blonde was smirking in the photo, lightly licking her lips and staring at the viewer head on. It was unsettling.
The Ondine blinked away her surprise before narrowing her eyes and looking at her prey in a new light. "Interesting last words."
"They won't be my last." Rachel curled her hands into fists and dared to look over her shoulder at the blonde.
The pirate didn't know how to take those words. A part of her felt rage at being spoken to as if she couldn't, as if she wouldn't, simply kill the girl. Another part of her felt… What? Admiration? Was that it?
"What is your name, girl?" She settled for this. If she had to kill such a brave girl, she would at least like to know her name.
"What is yours?" She asked unblinkingly and the blonde's teeth clenched. Rachel was not making things any easier for herself.
"The Ondine."
"Yes, I'm aware of your alias. But I was asking for your name."
A blonde brow rose as she surveyed the girl. "My alias is all you deserve to know."
"Then fine, you don't get to know my name." Rachel crossed her arms and looked away from the pirate with a huff.
What.
Was.
Going.
On.
"Well, Damsel, I suppose I am just out of luck."
"Excuse you?"
Rachel turned on her heel and faced her attacker, her brows pulled together in a mixture of confusion and slight anger. Intriguing, she was. The blonde was rather interested.
"Abandon ship! Harpies, return to your battle stations!"
The cry was heard and the Ondine let a slight growl slip past her lips. Apparently this was more serious than she originally thought. She had hoped that the Captain would simply show up, shoot the man, and move on with life. But things were never that easy with her and apparently the man was adept at fighting. However, the Captain was a master at sea-warfare and once the Harpies were on deck of the ManEater, he would meet his match.
"I believe that is our cue, Damsel."
The rogue took a few quick steps towards the performer before picking her up and slinging her over her shoulder.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rachel pounded her fists into the woman's back and kicked her legs, the long limbs nearly smacking the woman in the face. "Let me go this instant!"
Kurt, after suddenly regaining control over his body, grabbed the blonde's wrist and pulled, stopping her from escaping with his best friend. "I won't let you take her!"
The Ondine shot him an amused smile before she turned, lifted her knee, and swiftly kicked him in the chest, sending him into a few barrels of rum.
"Kurt!" Rachel's movements became more panicky and unstable as she squirmed and writhed to escape the stranger's grip and go to him. "Please! No!"
The Ondine simply continued marching onward towards the cannons on the side of the ship, knowing that she could easily cut a rope from the sails and swing onto the ManEater from there.
"How dare you not only attempt to kidnap me but attack Kurt like that! I will make sure that you are hanged for your actions!" The woman on her shoulder began a long, fairly annoying tangent, and it was starting to irk her captor.
"Now listen here. I know Daddy must have paid good money to get you on this vessel, but guess what? You're mine now." She explained as if it were common fact as she removed her rapier from its confines.
"I belong to no one!" A flabbergasted Rachel shouted as she began kicking once more.
"I could always kill you, then."
"I would rather die than belong to anyone other than the theater!" She huffed, crossing her arms and roughly shoving her shoulder against the woman's neck, trying to get her to drop her.
"You'd rather die?"
That was amusing; the blonde concluded as she sliced the rope and began climbing onto the railing on the side of the ship.
"Gladly!"
"Then I won't give you the pleasure." Taking a step back, hazel eyes scanned the distance between the two ships.
"Excuse me, but exactly what are you-" The screaming seemed to cut off her words, the noise coming from her own mouth as they pulled off the insane feat of swinging from one ship onto another.
"Welcome to the ManEater, my captive."
The Ondine smiled over her shoulder as they safely landed on the deck, surrounded by Harpies.