Title: A Pirate Affair
Author: KatherineKent (Victoria)
Pairing: Clois
Rating: PG-13 (with possible R rated sections)
Spoilers: None
Short summary: Pirates. That's all you're getting at the moment.
Prologue: Kidnapped
"Father!" Lois stormed into her father's office. "You can't do this to me." She was livid.
He stood slowly, a stern look on his face. "I most certainly can, young lady. I am your father ... and Commodore of the Navy."
"But ..."
"No buts. You are to sail back home to England to present yourself at court. Prepare yourself to leave in three days."
"You know I am no lady, father. I will disgrace you at court." She threw her defiant and unruly personality back at him.
"Lois, you will learn the ways of being a Lady and return here to take a proper husband. I will have no more of this childish disobedience." His gruff loud voice brooked no opposition and she turned on her heels and strode off.
Lois returned to her room, desolate. She was an unconventional lady, but she'd never defied her father, it least not in something so big. He was commanding her, not just as a Naval Officer, but as her father and there was no refusing him. She stood and looked out of her window.
The heavy drapes hung beside her and she clung onto them. Stepping forwards into the very centre of the full size window, and onto the tiny ledge balcony, she gazed out at the view.
Port Metropolis. The main trading centre of the Caribbean.
She'd been here for four months, since the King had commissioned her father on some secret mission. Commodore Lane had patrolled the British waters for years but something seven months ago had set him on a journey across the Atlantic Ocean to take up the mantle of Commander of the Caribbean waters.
Lois was not privy to the details or circumstances which had caused this at the time but she knew that her father was involved in something serious. She'd spent many hours eavesdropping at her father's study since arriving, trying to discern the reason for the disruption in her life. All she had managed to uncover was that he was to deal with the pirate problem ... at its source.
But that didn't matter to her. All she knew was that Port Metropolis was her home now, and even though she had lived all her life on board ship, she had taken to life in the bustling port easily. She loved it. And her father wanted to send her back to England; to the land that claimed her mother and baby sister's lives.
To court.
Where she'd have to simper and preen for the aristocracy, and bow to the King.
She shuddered.
Life on board a navy ship wasn't easy, but it was all she'd ever known, and loved – till she arrived here. And now this place was home. More than that ... she had family here. She'd finally been given a chance to befriend her cousin, although it was difficult to find a time that Chloe was not engaged in her maid duties at the Governor's mansion.
As the sun set over the ocean Lois felt a pricking at her soul. She couldn't bear to leave here now. But to be able to stay would mean defying her father. And that was not possible, at least not in person. Her defiance would have to be in absentia.
She whirled round suddenly, her mind made up, and began to pack but not in the way that her father expected. A basic canvas bag was appropriated from the store room and she filled it with as many simple clothes as possible; items that would be plain and allow her to pass unnoticed out of Port Metropolis.
Leaving the Port was contrary to her heart's desire, but it would enable her to make her own life choices, rather than live by her father's word. She may even be able to return shortly, or actually hide in plain sight. Rifling through her bedside drawers she found something to tie her hair back and then began changing into a brown woollen dress.
It was now past dusk, and barely forty minutes since she'd left her father's study. She extinguished her lamp and picked up her bag and shawl, heading for the large, open bedroom window. As she pulled back the heavy curtain to reveal the escape route there came an almighty scream from one of the maids inside the house.
"Rosie?" Lois voiced her thoughts. She was the youngest of the maids and it was a dreadfully high-pitched and loud scream.
Lois dropped her bag and cloak and ran to her bedroom door, flinging it open and searching for the screaming maid. She eventually found her in the Commodore's office.
"Rosie? What is it?" She tried to quiet the young woman but she was in hysterics. When the older maid arrived Rosie began to calm down. Mary was a calming influence on the flighty young girl.
"Now, deary. Pull yourself together and tell the mistress whatever it is," she said in a soothing tone.
All Rosie did was point to the desk. Lois walked around and found her father's military jacket crumpled on the floor. She picked it up and then dropped it again immediately which she felt a wet and sticky substance. Stepping back and into the light of a lamp she held up her hands to find they were covered in blood.
A rushing in her ears sent her dizzy, the bile in her stomach threatening to rise. She felt unsteady and lent against the solid oak desk for balance. As she spread her fingers out, flat, the blood transferred itself to the table and Lois absently considered how annoyed her father would be.
She took a deep, consciousness restoring breath and focussed on her hand. A minute wrinkle appeared in the centre of her forehead when she noticed the burn mark half obscured by her palm.
Ever so slowly sliding her hand away to reveal the damming mark she brought her other hand up to her mouth to contain the sob of terror which escaped her lips.
The burn mark was unmistakable, although probably not recognised by very many people. Lois was one of the few who did. Her regular eavesdropping had turned into exploration and she'd come across parchments bearing the mark. This was the mission her father had been given by the Crown; the mission he had discussed in private with a secret officer on many occasions.
She reached out her finger and began to trace the shape, leaving behind a matching trail of blood.
The square border.
The two dots outside two opposing corners.
The lightning bolt striking from corner to corner.
It all merged together to make a stylised 'Z'; the symbol of the man her father had been tasked to hunt and arrest.
The mark of the Pirate King.
Chapter 1: Deception
The tavern was full. Clamour and smoke from the patrons filled the air. The floor was sticky, dried beer being the cause.
He didn't want to be here; didn't want to mingle with these people, but it was his job, his duty, and he would see it through.
He held the bile down in his stomach as he strode along the floor. His boots alternately struck, then stuck to the wooden boards. His wary eyes flickered around the room; looking for possible danger, looking for possible recruits, looking for a free table.
He spotted one in a dark corner and slid onto a stool. His automatic reaction was to slide further into the dark and avoid all contact with these people but that wouldn't do tonight. He needed to be visible. He needed to attract interest.
A tavern wench approached him and bent over the table. "Can I get you anything" she asked suggestively.
"Ah, just a ..." he paused and adjusted his attitude. "A bottle ... of whatever is your cheapest." He looked her in the eye, avoiding the ample bosom on full view. "Now," he growled when she didn't immediately scurry away to fetch his drink.
A foul taste in his mouth had him licking his lips. He hated this; hated acting this way, but it was his job, and that was one thing he took seriously.
He pulled out a rolled up parchment and quill then waited. The bottle was placed unceremoniously on his table and he reached for it without looking up. He tossed some coins down and they disappeared immediately.
One swig of the foul liquid cleared his throat and then he shouted out over the loud din, making his intentions known to the whole room.
It didn't take long for a line to appear. His ship had a reputation. He took down names and gave out instructions.
The dungeon was a little warmer than usual today. He could tell because he wasn't shivering. He actually dared to uncurl his legs and climb out from under the thin, thread-bare blanket. When his bare feet touched the dank, slimy, grit floor he had to hold in the contents of his stomach.
He stood up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulder. It might be warmer than usual but that still meant it was bitterly cold down here ... in the dark ... in the forgotten places.
Shuffling along the floor slowly he headed for the faint light spilling through the small barred opening in the top of his door. He gripped the bars in his fists and pushed his head as far forward as possible. As he craned his neck and strained his eyes he caught sight of the jailor.
"Hey!" he croaked out. "Hey you!" The man shuffled, obviously uncomfortable, but didn't acknowledge him. "I need to get a message to someone. Up in the mansion." He gripped harder, more urgently pleading. "Please, I need to send a message."
The soldier obviously didn't want to keep up the pretence or continuing to ignore him when it could go on all night so he broke his post. Striding over to the cell he put himself nose to nose with the prisoner. "I've been told about you ... deceiver. I don't believe a word that comes out of that filthy mouth of yours so save your breath and get back in your cell."
With that, the jailor strode off and back to his post.
The prisoner let his muscles relax and he dropped away from the door. Sinking into the uncomfortable bed he sighed.
I have to get word to someone? But no-one will believe me. The guards who imprisoned me down here were obviously under the pay of Lex.
"But I'm the Governor!" he protested as he was dragged down the stone steps. "Stop right now and unhand me," he demanded.
"Not any more. Lex Luthor is Governor of Port Metropolis now." The soldier's reply was full of scorn. Horror hit his heart. What is Lex going to do now? What will become of the rest of the Luthor family? Port Metropolis will surely deteriorate under his leadership.
The guards under the pay of new Governor had paid no attention to his cries and pleas over the following months. Then, suddenly, they were all gone. Replaced by new soldiers.
He tried to get them to listen. He hoped they were not in Lex's pay. It didn't seem like it. But something worse had happened.
He'd changed. His beard and hair were long and unkempt. His body was weak and bony. His clothes were dirty, ripped and grimy.
No-one believed his claim to be the rightful Governor. Why would they? He certainly didn't look the part.
But ever worse than that ... Lex had convinced everyone that he was dead.
I need to get a message to someone. But how? If only I could send just one word. A single word to my trusted secretary.
But in the ten months he had been down here he had seen no-one but the guards. No visitors, no other prisoners ... and the guards thought him mad and a trickster.
Just one word to Gabe and he'd find me. I know it.
As the liquid in the bottle drained away so the recruit line dwindled until only two were left.
"Name," he asked wearily.
"Jimmy ... uh James Olsen, sir."
He looked up at the young sounding voice. "You're too young," he spoke. "Go home."
"Please sir, I'm fifteen. I can do anythin' you ask." He took in the young boy's appearance.
Curly ginger hair, boyish round face covered in freckles. They were most likely caused by the beating sun. This boy had never seen work on a ship.
"You don't want to be a pirate Jimmy, go find a nice apprenticeship somewhere."
"No-one'll have me. I've been lookin' after my father an' he died last week. There's no-one at home an' no money to buy an apprenticeship. There's no food left ..." The young lad's voice trailed off, almost breaking. "Please."
He sighed. This was too hard. Did he give in to the compassion for the boy?
But if he did then that would condemn him to a violent, dangerous, unlawful life as a pirate. Either that, or an early death ... especially if he was assigned as a powder monkey, which was very likely.
He looked away and took a swig from the bottle then wrote down the young boy's name, dying a little inside. The lad grinned and walked off.
Blinking to clear his eyes from the smoke permeating the air in the tavern he forced himself to focus on the list of names gracing the parchment on the table in front of him. His fingers gripped tightly to the quill, ink dripping from the end.
I'm condemning them all. He gritted his teeth.
"Next," he spoke as gruffly as he could, not looking up. On the edge of his vision he saw dark brown trousers step into view and a nervous voice spoke.
"I'd like to sign up, sir."
"We don't take women," he replied instinctively. It wasn't unheard of for females to serve on pirate ships, or even to become captain, but his captain had forbidden it.
"I'm not a woman, sir," came the stronger reply and he glanced up to see a tall, not quite lanky boy, in ragged clothes stood at the table. He squinted to try and focus better through the dark. The lad's face was as smooth as his voice. Not yet old enough to shave.
"Lad, you should be at home." Not another one.
"I want to join. Please sir. I need to."
He felt something tug at his heart again. I cannot let emotion get to me, not if I am to fulfil my role. "Go home son." He returned his gaze to the recruit list.
"I have no home. This is my only chance." He sighed and dropped the quill. Lifting his hands he dragged them down his face wearily.
"Ok, then, what's your name?"
"Lois ... um ... Lewis Samson. Louis. Or just Lou." The pen scratched as he added the young lad's name.
"We leave at dawn tomorrow." He did not raise his gaze again but he heard a shuffle as the lad moved his feet.
"What do I call you, sir?"
"I am Quartermaster of the Pirate Ship Kandor." After pausing he looked up and directly into the new recruit's eyes. He felt strangely uneasy. Burying his emotions deep he continued. "You can call me Kal."
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