My only excuse for this is the fact that I'm mad at Ubisoft for making 7 games with no female protagonists. Eurgh. Why couldn't they have made Aveline de Grandpré's DLC a retail thing? Whatever.

This in an alternate universe, meaning I can change really whatever I like. This includes some of the plot lines, back stories, genders, and slight sexual preference changes. Don't hate me.

Elizabeth is Edward and Christopher is Caroline.

Rated M for language and just because I don't really know where I'm going with this.

Don't read if you'd like to avoid spoilers.

Cover image is not mine.


Elizabeth hated Bristol. Simple as that, really. What could compare to big and beautiful Swansea, Wales? Definitely not this farm her family relocated to just seven years ago. Being ten years old at the time of their drastic and unexpected move, Elizabeth had a trouble making, care free way about her that only grew when she discovered her distaste for the pastoral life her father had insisted on.

But Elizabeth wasn't unpopular, and had many "bad influences" to slow and "get in the way" of her family's "farm". The farm was successful only until Elizabeth turned fourteen. The crops never grew, and when they did the wild animals that resided nearby would demolish the fields just before harvest, and take their goods back for themselves. Her father would never admit to it, though, the man was just too proud to ever ask for advise, and when the farm eventually failed and her family went broke, Elizabeth wanted nothing more but to gloat, and say "I told you so", but the look her father gave her after breaking the news, telling her how bad this really was, she shut her mouth. Fourteen year old Elizabeth was smart enough to know when to shut up.

Seventeen year old Elizabeth was not.

Elizabeth wasn't a stranger to the eyes of men, or sometimes, women. Not that she mind. She liked attention. Liked being the center of attention. Liked proving herself to people who she shouldn't have to prove herself to. She liked to drink with the boys and to gossip with the girls. "Seventeen years old," her mother would tsk, "Shouldn't you be looking for a husband?"

The death of her father, sent her mother into a depression, Elizabeth couldn't crack. Her father had gotten scurvy. And with his old age and lack of Vitamin C, he succumbed to his sickness, and she swore to herself she'd never go out like that. Old and sick. Elizabeth had drank herself into an oblivion the night of his death. She faintly remembered foreign hands on her body that shouldn't be and the lips of a man she wouldn't recognize if he made himself known to her. She realized she liked sex, but figured she'd rather be sober the next time someone showed an interest. Taverns and the eyes of men made her forget about her troubles for a few weeks, until her mother started showing signs of the same illness her father had.

Only a week and a half later her mother passed, telling Elizabeth for the last time to find someone who can provide for her. To find someone who would love her.

True to her mother's dying wishes she did just that. Not without a bit of trial and error along the way, of course. She was angry at first. Angry at her mother, her father. They reach age 50 and then what, just drop dead? So she got drunk. By herself this time, wallowing away in her own self pity. The owners knew her enough now to know to look out for her. To make sure no one tries anything while she's vulnerable. But when she stirs up a fight, calling out at the top of her lungs that the man in the far corner of the bar were "terrible in bed" and "should be put down", there's nothing the old man and his wife can do for her.

Even in her drunken stupor, Elizabeth knows she's in trouble, knows she should've kept her big mouth shut, when the man pulls her outside, calls her a whore, and threatening to "teach her a lesson".

Elizabeth need to have a serious discussion with herself on how to know when to shut the hell up.

It's not until she's been backed up on the outside wall, her shoulders being held back by what was probably the most repulsing smelling man, when she sees an opening. He's suddenly distracted when a man on a horse, rides up behind her attacker, and tells him to back off or "you'll be out of a job". The grip on her shoulders releases and that's all the opportunity she needs. She dodges around the corner of the building, up a scaffolding, and onto the roof, nearly positive she's out of reach, she sits on the edge and crouches down.

From below she hears the sound of the man, being referred to as Ross from the man on the horse, to get back to return to his post, and that they've been looking for him all day. Elizabeth warily watches the man tie his horse around a make shift hitching post, and look up at her.

"You alright?" he asks, his accent horribly local, it nearly makes her cringe.

Narrowing her eyes, she avoids the question, "Who are you?" she calls down, her voice slurring slightly, the man bellow her raises his eyebrows slightly, not expecting such a strong Welsh accent.

"Christopher Scott," he says, and immediately Elizabeth was wary. She'd heard of Emmet Scott and his wife who shared her name, they were wealthy Bristolian tea merchants. Wealthy folk didn't just give out acts of kindness without asking something in return. "Are you from Wales?" Christopher questions, and before she can tell him to piss off, he asks exasperatedly for to come down from her perch. "You'll alert the guards."

Elizabeth looks down at him, equally as exasperated. "How did you know that man?" she's asking the important questions as she makes her way down the front of the building.

Christopher sighs, avoids the question, and apologizes on behalf of the man she'd accused of being terrible in bed - not that she'd know.

Elizabeth laughs. It's a genuine laugh and it's coming from deep inside her and not just bouncing off the back of her throat, and the first decent observation she makes about the man standing in front of her is that he raises his eyebrows to much to be normal.


Elizabeth's never been in love, but when Christopher puts one hand on her cheek and one on the curve of her hip, before kissing her for about the twentieth time that night, in the privacy of the little house that she inherited, she knows this must be what it feels like.

He asks for her hand in marriage three months after they first met. Christopher's father is displeased with his son's seeing Elizabeth, because of his previous engagement to Melissa Hague. But a month later the two are married and no one but God can disprove that.


Elizabeth's aware with other people's view of her. She's been chased out of taverns on the other side of town, streets, and other places she knew she shouldn't be but wasn't aware they had such a high dress code. Not trusting a woman who rarely wears dresses- but trousers - and accuses her of being a cross dresser.

She likes attention, but she thinks she could do without that kind of accusation.

So when Christopher's father shows up at the little house looking out at a revived and thriving crop field (that Elizabeth knows her father would've been proud of), throwing off accusations of her being an untrustworthy wife, telling his son that he's "made a huge mistake" right in front of her. She nearly strangled him, if anything she's a trustworthy. Something she's worked hard toward her entire life.

"Cau dy ffwcin ceg." she swears at him in Welsh, eyebrows furrowed and eye narrowed. She makes to lunge at him, but Christopher disappointingly steps in front of her, placing his hand softly on her collar bone. She looks down at her bare feet and wiggles her toes before frustratingly turning her back on them both. Christopher shakes his head at his father, a queue for him to leave, he does so but not without a sound of disgust and making a "point" by leaving the front door wide open. Elizabeth spins back around, knocking her shoulder in Christopher's as she passes to stand in front of the open door.

"He's wrong about me!" she curses, and slams the door closed.


"Elizabeth, please. You could never be a privateer. You're a woman, you're about to have a child, they'd never accept you." Christopher tells her many mornings later while they're lying in bed.

The hand that she recently had draped over his chest quickly retracts at the mention of the child she has inside her, she sits up. "Then I'll dress like a man and make them take me." she snarls, getting quite indignant.

"You wouldn't make a very convincing man, love. You're too beautiful." he purrs, sitting up as well and rubbing a circle over her back. "Besides, isn't privateering dangerous?"

Instinctively, she flinches and spins her body around to face him, "Wouldn't pay so nice if it weren't,"

Deciding to humour her, Christopher nods slowly, sitting up as well. "Why not sail with the King's Navy? Sail under gentlemen?"

"Sod the Navy's Gentlemen. For every shilling I'd earn, the Captain'd get six hundred. That's no way to earn a fortune."

"We don't need a fortune. Besides, don't you worry about earning shillings, my father's money and this farm is getting us on just fine."

"I don't want to live off your assho-," Elizabeth sighs at the look Christopher gives her. "I don't want to live of your father's money, and this poor excuse for a farm. I want food that don't make me sick. I want walls that hold back the wind. I want a decent life."

"You're serious about this?" Christopher asks, eyebrows raised as Elizabeth stands up in front of the bed, in all but a night gown, her belly protruding immensely . She holds her head up high and sucks in a breath.

"Aye."

It's two weeks later when the baby is born into the world and immediately taken away from her. Christopher's parents deemed her unfit to care for a child and she was handed over to Emmet Scott and his wife. The final month of Elizabeth's time on Bristol was spent getting ready to leave for the Caribbean. Christopher had left to live back on his parents farm to take of the child Elizabeth had never been able to see. Once guards began patrolling her house and watching for her around Christopher's parent's house she knew she had to leave.

Once the letter arrived informing her alias "Edward Kenway" was accepted as a privateer, she left Bristol and Christopher and took her anger with her.


Cau dy ffwcin ceg - Shut your fucking mouth