"Mermaids, Serpents and Storms"

By LyriumLove

Author's Note: Hullo lovelies! Welcome to my very AU fic, set after Season 1 of Black Sails. I do not own any Black Sails or Starz content, I just play here. Thank you and please enjoy, leave a review? Rum all around! xoxo

Chapter One: A Newcomer in Nassau

The waves lashed against the shore with violence and need; breaking against the rocks. The dark water caressed the beach, and then turned to raking the rocks with stormy, long fingers. It was a storm unlike any other that Nassau had seen.

The huricane had come without warning. It had begun with a light rain that had swiftly careened into a screaming storm, battering Nassau with hour after hour of brutal rain, wind and lightning.

Everything on the beach was washed away first. Camps, rowboats, everything. Poorly made houses on the outskirts of town were shredded; the opium addict dens were either swallowed or washed away. Roofs were blown away. Even the opium addicts camps were tossed from their hidey holes, the people drowned and drawn out to sea.

When the rain and howling winds had finally ceased; the devastation was clear. The wreckage lay bare on the skeleton beach; Nassau's inhabitants slowly began to creep from their homes to survey everything.

The sky was still cloudy, but the clouds were deflated; thin splotches on the sky, exhausted from their violent efforts. The colours were what seemed to give hope back to the island. Although the sky was still quite dark; muted patches burst through where the sun shone. Turquoise bled into pale blues, a lazy orange spread slowly into reds and yellows. The wind was steady; but soft, almost as if to apologize for the beating it had administered.

Bodies, boats and more littered the main beach. People began to help drag the bodies to pile and burn. Some were scavenging for valuables. Many of the pirates cursed as they tried to salvage the day.

A shout went up suddenly, breaking the somber silence on the shore. On the horizon, almost propelled by the light that was spreading after the storm, was a ship.

A great galleon, bronze and golden. It moved quicker than a ship of that size should. The harbor broke into excited chatter. Nassau had fallen onto hard times as of late, no more than today especially. Seeing such a great ship moving easily through the water, banishing the darkness and most importantly after the storm, brought hope, superstition and curiousity.

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Nassau had undergone quite a few changes the past few years. Mr. Guthrie had returned to Boston, to a life of politics and begging at his father's feet. With him, Mrs. Barlow had gone, after the death of Captain Flint. She had gotten with child, even in her late age. She'd begged Flint to stop, to move her and their unborn child away from the chaos. But Flint loved the sea more than the books or the woman. His refusal had crushed her and she nearly died from grief alone.

Surprisingly, Guthrie reversed the tables, in turn nursing her back to health. She recovered, in time to give birth to a healthy daughter. Guthrie claimed the child as his own, intent on not making the same mistakes with this child; as he had with Eleanor. They married quietly before the babe was born and when both child and mother were able, took passage to Boston. Guthrie, somehow, managed to earn forgiveness and a pardon for Nassau's misdeeds. For all they'd been through, the new couple was relieved to retire to a quiet life of mutual respect and companionship.

The others had not all fared as well. After Gates' death and Billy Bones return to Nassau, they all seemed to become hard men. Bones challenged Flint to swords on Nassau's beach, easily winning. As he thrust his sword into Flint's chest, he screamed out Flint's treachery for all to hear.

The crew of the Walrus that had survived the attack on the Urca de Lima was more than happy to come together under Billy as their Captain. With Flint's share they purchased a new boat, the Triumph. It had belonged to a rich merchant who was liquidating his fleet for some reason or another. Billy managed to purchase it quite cheaply and it was brought to Nassau to be outfitted properly.

Jack seemed to have fallen out with nearly everyone. Not only were Vane and his men watching Jack's every move, he and Bonny had fallen out of sorts. Jack's ambivalence to the beatings and raping of whores, namely Max, deeply unsettled Anne. They drifted apart until Jack announced he would be leaving the brothel. As a last ditch effort at sentiment, he gave Bonny his share of ownership in the brothel.

Bonny and Max had struck an accord over time, a slow, mutual respect that seemed determined to develop into more, despite both women's negative views on love. But Max would not make the same mistakes she had with Eleanor, no, Max would always love herself first...always.

Bonny, in turn, had given Jack's job and stake in the brothel to Max. Bonny had no desire to actually run the brothel. She provided her services as a bouncer, instead. Max had reinstated Mrs. Mapleton, on the condition she not attempt to cheat the books again. The brothel and its whores were kept clean and more orderly than ever, thanks to Max. Profits were up, too. Max was satisfied...but not content.

Silver had gone from thief to liar to cook to Captain in bounds. The Stingray belonged to him now, a small ship purchased from some dead Captain. Jack became his quartermaster. The crew was wary but enthusiastic about their Captain, who seemed to have the luck of the gods on his side. After all, he had helped to make them rich, thus far.

The Ranger's former Captain, Vane; had disappeared for over a year. He had left men in place to control his assets on the island. When he came back, he did so with a sleek new ship, the Raven. She wasn't overly large, but the little dark thing struck terror into the hearts of those who saw her. Charles Vane had become a quiet, brooding Captain, preferring to keep to sea more than land.

Eleanor Guthrie, perhaps, fared worst of all. Worse than death? Exile. Exiled from those she cared for, stripped of her titles and the respect and fear she had once garnered. The island was no longer hers. In a sense, she had nothing left. She was kept as part of the Consortium merely as a figurehead; for her name alone. Everyone knew Captain Horningold was the real power behind Nassau. He managed everything a hundred times better than the Guthries ever had.

Nassau had survived, thanks to Mr. Guthrie. But it wasn't the same. Trade was slow; many merchants would no longer sell to them. But the Navy did not bother them after Guthrie made his deal.

xxxxxxx

The Artemis pulled towards the island, quite a crowd was gathered to see who was at the helm of such an impressive beast and why they were there. Four rowboats set to shore with a dozen and a half of the crew. Eleanor and Horningold awaited them on the beach.

"You missed the storm, obviously, or did you bring it? Welcome to Nassau. Who might I ask is Captain among you?" Eleanor greeted the gaggle of men, who were pirates if she was sure of anything.

The throng of men parted. From within their ranks, stepped a woman. She was short, just a scant few inches over 5 feet. She had long, golden locks swept into a ponytail to the side, underneath a large, preposterous purple hat. The thing was decorated with plumes from some sort of exotic birds, along with pearls and a bit of black lace. She was dressed in calf-high black boots, worn from use, the hides speckled from saltwater. Instead of a skirt, she had black pants that rose high, outlining her shapely body. Her arse and thighs were ample, her waist thin and toned. She had a wide belt perched diagonally on her wide hips, an assortment of weapons hanging from it. Her undershirt was a dark blue, overlaid with a purple silk. It was slashed and embroidered with black thread. The collar flipped up, highlighting her tall, curved neck. Full, mauve lips pursed, matching the coldness in her sapphire eyes.

Captain Adora Graysen stood; hand on her side, sizing up the welcoming crew, as it were. "I'm Captain of the Artemis. Adora Graysen...pleasure." A hard, but musical lilt to her voice made it unique and delightful to the ear.

Eleanor Guthrie scoffed out loud and some of the men began to laugh at the thought of a woman on a ship, let alone captaining one.

"Very funny. Now where's your Captain?" Eleanor crossed her arms, glaring at the other woman.

Adora stepped forward, directly in front of her. Several of Nassau's men made for their sword hilts, just in case as they watched the confrontation.

"Pretty little thing, aren't you? Think you're the only one in the world with tits and a cunt who can command men?"

Silence momentarily gripped the crowd. Everyone watched Eleanor's face as it darkened with fury and indignation. Adora merely laughed lightly and stepped back on her heel. The beach erupted in laughter. Eleanor was obviously infuriated and began blustering insults, but Captain Horningold intervened, stepping around and in front of her. He offered his hand to Captain Adora.

"Welcome to Nassau, Captain and crew. That's quite a fair ship you've brought. What brings you here to our island?"

"My crew and I come from the west with a haul of sugar and spices. Thought we'd port here to rest and resupply and see how trade fares."

"Very good, Captain. May I invite you to the tavern to discuss business while some of my men help yours offload?"

As easily as that, Adora had charmed her way into Nassau. She and her crew were welcomed ashore.

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An hour later, Adora had negotiated a fair price with the Consortium for her sugar and some of her spices. The crew began to haul ashore that which they were selling, barrels of salt and sugar, crates of tea leaves and other exotic spices. Adora walked the beach, her pants rolled up and her boots in one hand. She was well pleased with the days' events. Her crew had worked hard and she was glad to give them a break; as well as their share of the profits.

Standing on a little hill, she wriggled her toes in the sand. Dropping her boots to the ground, she sat on a rock to watch her crew unload. They were nearing the last of it when Grimm, her Quartermaster, trudged up the beach to give her a report.

"Captain," he said, tipping his hat to her. "Tidy profit you've secured us. The lads are well pleased, indeed." He sat beside her, offering her a swig of run from his flask.

She took it, grateful for the warm sensation as it poured down her throat to her belly. The beach was quite cold and the wind was picking up.

"Storm brought quite a chill with it. The island lads are complaining it's never this chilly and that there was a fair amount of damage. Some of 'em are scared of you. Think you're a witch and you caused the storm and ensnared us crew." Grimm chuckled deeply, his raspy voice rolling like the waves on the beach. "Calling you Stormbringer, some of 'em are."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Bit of fear doesn't hurt. Keeps them in line. Finish up, Grimm, pay the men and turn them loose. We'll give them a few days, then we're east again, deliver the rest of our goods to our legitimate contact." Both of them laughed quietly at that.

Adora was uniquely lucky. Born the bastard daughter of an English noble lord, in Wales to a lady's maid, she was able to sell legitimately under her father's name, even if on thin ice. Her heart belonged to the sea, to her ship and to her pirate's life.

xxxxxx

Most of the crew wandered by on their way into town to say hello. They were on good terms with their Captain. Old Jim brought her a flask of his special rum, sweetened with dark cane sugar. He was their cook and had been since they boarded the Elizabeth Anne two years ago.

Evening was setting. The horizon prickled with rosy hues, the light dimming on the wrecked beach. Most of the bodies had been placed on pyres to burn. The smell of charred flesh and death permeated the air.

Gnarled Lars, one of her burliest crew members, brought her tent and bag to her. Though she was a woman, she was tough. She didn't allow any of the men to do mundane tasks like setting up her tent for her. Adora had been the bastard of a lady's maid, she knew about self-preservation.

"The men settling in nicely? No trouble?" She stood, pulling the tent's canvas out and shaking it.

"Mhhm, whorehouse is a sight. They've got a midget woman and two men for whores in with the cunny." Lars laughed. He stood, fingers like massive sausages, looped through his belt hooks.

"That's smart, Lars. Women need to be serviced too and not just with the fingers of a whore." Adora spoke plainly as she always did with her men.

"Hmph."

"No stranger than a woman as captain," she protested.

"Just cause we all know better, I'd say you had a cock, Captain." Lars shook his head and stalked off towards town.

Early after acquiring the Artemis , the men chafed under her rule. Many believed she was simply a feminine man in drag. She'd promptly called a meeting, then to everyone's shock, stripped to prove to her crew that she was indeed a woman. That night one of the crew had tried to force himself on her. She'd beaten him to death with his own sword, then strung him up by his balls in the rigging as a warning for all who might harbor desire for their Captain.

Some did, though. They regularly tried to seduce her or impress her. It amused her, but she would not take her own crew to bed. It was a rule. One that had served her well.

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Once her tent was up and a cheery campfire blazing, she headed, barefoot again; to the tide pools on the far side of the shore to look for crabs. Remembering the storm, she brought a sack for goods, too. Her feet were tough enough to handle the slippery, sharp rocks. The moon was bright, her eyes adjusted well in the darkness. The tide pools were far from the town, the lights twinkled in the distance.

Slipping quietly around a turn, she grinned wickedly when the moonlight glinted off a crab's shell. As she collected four nice sized crabs, she looked for other things. She happened upon a small, damaged black bag, caught on a rock. It was tied and had a wax seal still somewhat intact. When she tugged it off the rock, three black pearls fell out of it. Smiling at her fortune, she continued to search for treasure, washed up from the storm. Ten minutes later and her sack was fit to bursting.

Enjoying the quiet night too much, she climbed up a rock jutting out of the sea water. She set her sack of crabs and plunder aside and pulled a flute from her vest. It was a smooth, wooden flute. It was sleek with years of use, carved with dragons and fire. She began a slow, mournful tune, the notes wafting on the sea air. She played beautifully, one of the few noble skills she'd cared to possess.

Halfway through her second song, she stopped abruptly. Grinning, she said, "Any further and I'll put away my flute for a blade."

The intruders swore, changing their course across the rocks. She turned about a little more on her rock, to see their shadows better. She took her flute in one hand, picking her tune back up, twirling her blade in the other. The moonlight glinted off the shiny steel.

"You a mermaid, then?" Sending sweet song out to lure sailors to their deaths?" The voice was deep, husky. It had a unique tone that pleased her.

Adora set down her knife and flute. "I can swim better than most mermaids, sir. Care to step into the moonlight and introduce yourselves?"

The shadowy figure, whence the voice came from was tall. He was beautiful, even in the dark. Something about his eyes and body made her blush with want. She turned to gaze upon the second figure, a shorter man with an odd haircut. He seemed to be either a hostage of the darker man or following unwillingly. When he stepped all the way into the light, she laughed and sprung off the rocks.

"Cousin Jack! How the fuck are you?" Adora snatched up her stunned cousin in a fast hug. He was less than pleased. "What the fuck did you do to your hair?"

"Adora!?" Jack cried incredulously. "What the hell..."

"She's your cousin?" came the rich voice.

"'Twas your dad who told me about this place, Jackey boy. Let me look at you. It's been too long." She hated to ignore the other man, who was so lovely to look upon, but she was thrilled to see her kin.

"Figures," Jack said, swearing. "And don't call me that, or..."

"Or what? I'll kick your ass like usual?" She laughed, her voice as melodious as her flute's music.

"Fuck you," Jack yelled and stomped ass as best as he could on the slick rocks.

"Not too far," growled the other man lowly.

Adora turned her attentions to him now. His skin was a wonderful bronze colour, his hair an almond brown. He had scars on his face and one peeking out from his open shirt. Just from looking at him, she could tell he was a Captain, like her. He was all mystery and intrigue.

"What are you doing out here all alone, mermaid?" He crossed his arms, eyeing her suspiciously.

Looking up coyly trough her lashes, she stepped closer to him. "How do you know I'm not a sea serpent come to swallow you up instead," she whispered, leaning close to him. His smell was an intoxicating mix of leather, rum and sweat. She made sure that as she spoke, her breath passed over his neck.

At his sharp intake of breath, she smiled triumphantly. Stepping back quickly, she waved the dagger she'd stolen off his belt at him. The quick change in his expression was priceless.

"Hey! You thieving bitch," he cried.

"Catch me if you can," she teased, dashing off. She left her things, giggling madly.

It didn't matter that she didn't know the beach, she was sure on her feet. She was light and although shoeless, she could move much faster than the tall man behind her. She quickly lost him, scrambling around a corner in the tall rocks, wriggling into a crevice to wait.

She could hear him slip, go down and yell in pain. Stifling a laugh, she waited, watching. The cliffs rose up, forming a narrow semi-circle with two small entrances. The mysterious man burst into the clearing, looking around wildly. Adora slipped from her hiding spot.

"My, but you're slow for a pirate, sir." She waved his knife at him.

He spun around, bellowing in rage. he grabbed for her once, twice as she laughed and spun about in the sand away from him. Finally, she let him catch her.

He grabbed his knife first, putting it away on his belt. She had her hands on her hips, laughing at him. The other captain grabbed her, slamming her against the cliff wall behind her. He shook her violently, yelling.

"You're so forward, you've not even told me your name," she said, still in a teasing voice. She enjoyed how infuriating she was being.

Adora pushed against his frame with her hands and back, scooting herself up the wall with her back to pull her legs up and around his waist in a quick, fluid motion. Utterly surprised and still furious, he tried to slap her. Catching his hand at the last second, she turned it over. He was bleeding from a cut, probably from trying to catch himself on the rocks.

"You're bleeding sir," she said silkily, flicking her tongue out to catch the blood. She let her tongue drag across his palm slowly. He shuddered, predictably and pushed her further against the wall. He made to kiss her but she turned at the last moment. His face was in her hair, his breath was hot and ragged. He growled impatiently, tightening his grip on her waist. She was playing a dangerous game, she knew, but was enjoying it too much. It had been far too long since she had met a man who could entice her thus.

"Your name, if you please," she whispered against his shoulder.

"Charles Vane. Captain Vane," he said back. "And you? be you mermaid or sea serpent, what do I call you?"

Charles let his own tongue trail up her neck. It was her turn to shudder. She hadn't meant to seduce him completely, to let him ravish her but she was undone. She had been too long at sea without satisfaction and this man was a gorgeous beast. She tightened her legs around his waist.

"Captain! Where are you?" Jack shouted and then skidded into the small clearing. His jaw was agape.

Charles turned his face to him, keeping his torso towards Adora. "Did you find the pearls? he snarled.

Jack was trying to stammer a reply.

Adora squirmed down from Charles' grip. "Pearls? Black ones? I found some with a torn velvet bag in the tide pools. The bag looked a bit old."

Both men looked at her in surprise. It was obvious why her cousin was with Captain Vane now.

"Come on then, boys," she said, winking at Charles before heading back.

"She's dangerous, Chaz. She's nothing like Eleanor, however golden-haired she may be. She isn't one to be tamed, she's a crazy fucking storm that will leave you crushed on the rocks." Jack resorted to using Charles' nickname in an attempt to get the man to reason. "You have no idea what she is. You don't want to get swept up into that current, you'll drown in no time like all the others," he said ominously.