A/N: I've resisted long enough, and it's time to post this dumb thing.
I started it when I got my computer: last March. (would you believe?) I knew it was only a matter of time before I had a need to post it, and I've been writing it a lot lately. Okay. Here is is: a dumb pirate Homestuck ancestors fanfiction set in about the 1700s or so.
If I fuck up something historical, let me know. (looks pointedly at history nerds) I'm mostly in this for the pirates. So far, I've got Dualscar, Mindfang, and Dolorosa, although I do plan to include The Summoner, The Condesce, The Sufferer, and some more. WARNING: This is already pretty sexual. It will only get worse. Although I don't really go much into detail with the sexy, so assume this is more T+ than M.
The Inevitable 1700s Piracy AU: Chapter One
On nights where the crew and the captain are starving, it has always been this bad. The world has always been this gloomy, they have always gone to bed with hollow stomachs, their ribs have always stuck out when they look in the mirror. On nights where they feast, the sky has always been this open with possibility, there has always been turkey dripping with fat, there are always buttery potatoes crammed into their cheeks; feasts are every night, damn the stockpiling.
The ship may well be called the Opportunist, for what it is. There is no middle ground. It is high spirits or depression, it is gluttony or starvation, it is affection or frigidity.
With a collective temperament like this, it's no wonder that the captain is a little unhinged.
Directly opposite the do-or-die mentality aboard Valiant Fortune, there is the carefully rationed and controlled atmosphere of Honor's Mast. Nobody goes unaccounted for, and everybody reports. There is enough food, yet not too much. The admiral stalks up and down the hallways, shiny boots and shiny hair impeccable. He can thank you in Portuguese, tell you it's a pleasure to see you in German, and properly guide an English lady of proper breeding to her proper quarters in the ship during proper negotiations. He's had an Eton education followed by a Royal Navy education, and he's proud of it.
When both ships are docked at any town at the same time, it's usually all thrown out the window.
They had been young once, the captain and the admiral, and she had been ambitious and so had he.
Yes, that's right- she.
He had been at the first high-society event that he actually cared about: a spring dance. He was about eleven, full of stifled fidgets in his ruffled collar, trying so hard to make a good impression on the young ladies as they giggled behind their fans and pulled delicately at the strings in their flat, wide hats. His father sat beside him at dinner that night with ramrod-straight posture, feet planted firmly on the ground. He had always thought his father was a divine creature, how else could he be so very wise and at the same time give such harsh punishments for misbehavior?
They had stepped outside so Father could smoke a new pipe imported from the colonies. The stars twinkled and the moon gently lit the balcony. Below them, the cobblestones of the street wound away into patterns that had always impressed the young boy.
A man passed by below them, and his father stiffened in a way he had never seen, beginning to walk quickly down the stairs to the street. He had harsh words with the rough-looking man, and as it was getting more heated, a small figure broke away from the strange man's side and ran up the stairs with fluid ease.
It was a girl in a plain dress, nothing remarkable. She didn't wear a hat, and her dark hair billowed uncontrollably behind her as she dashed the final two steps and shoved the young boy, her face contorted into a snarl. "Your father's nothin' but a tyrant!"
Below, as the voices rose, hands were also being raised in vaguely threatening positions, and all of a sudden on that balcony on the spring night the boy didn't know what to do with the sudden spark of hatred he felt. He looked the girl in the eyes and was surprised by her unflinching cerulean gaze. His voice cracked as he asked her "Who do you think you are, attacking me like this?"
She laughed then, her head lolling back and her shoulders shaking. Her voice was tinted with hatred as much as his as she replied "I have rights to 'tack anyone I want!"
"Valisa, come down here," the scruffy man had called, and she had turned and spat at him- the man who could have been her own father!- then punched the boy in the face.
He could still feel the sting sometimes when he thought of her.
When they had returned to the dance, his father having reported the man to local security, the young boy was reassured that lower-class people were rowdy trouble-starters and this is why he shouldn't associate with them.
The boy had heartily agreed and then asked the countess's daughter to dance. He was turned down.
That night with the girl and the man was the beginning of a lifelong enemy rivalry.
No matter how he had progressed through his life, first a brimming, bright boy, then a lanky and awkward youth, and finally a muscled and virtuous man, she had been the bane of his existence. Valisa, the daughter of the horrible criminal who was later found guilty of black market dealings.
Well, if he was horrible she was twice as bad. She was loud, impulsive, unpredictable, and worst of all, she was-
"A pirate," Dualscar exhales angrily, kicking the mop bucket on deck over in his preoccupation with memories.
A deckhand looks up as he springs to fix the mess. "Did you say something, Ad'mral?"
"No, nothing."
The sight of the Valiant Fortune had sent him into a veritable fit of rage. How dare she dock here, with her mannerless crew and her disregard for national law? He had been standing leaning against the mast for a good quarter of an hour, watching the fluyt's brash Union Jack flags flutter in the autumn air. The thought of seeing her brought a tightness to his chest he could not explain.
Valisa had grown up too, that he was never able to deny. While he was studying and training and moving up the Royal Navy ranks, she had been building a piracy empire and a reputation feared on every coast in this country. She had gone from a violent little girl in a dull paisley frock, her pale freckled face dominated by overlarge and hostile eyes, to a brutal woman draped in jewelry, secrets, and expensive men's clothing. He would never understand that about her, but sometimes he thought of how uncomfortable dresses must be, and got the idea fairly clearly. Still, he would never wear a dress, so why did she get to wear what he might?
Her behavior was inexcusable, that much was true. Piracy was punishable by death!
He had a fiery and passionate hatred for her, but he could not deny her beauty, and he also could not deny his own hypocrisy.
Yes, when the ships were docked at the same time it did get rather interesting.