Yo-ho, everyone knows, a pirate's life is free! Yo-ho, wherever we go, pirateses' life we'll lead!

Heh. Ahoy, fellas! I got this crazy idea for a Dogshank one-shot, and then I got some other ideas for one-shots. So now there's gonna be pirate one-shots! With any luck. Not sure how often I'll update. And so help me if it doesn't end up being all Clancee, all the time.

At any rate, this one completely and totally ignores the "Tall Tale of Dogshank" video, if you've seen it. Sorry about that, but the video didn't even agree with canon. So.

Disclaimer: I don't own yonder LEGO pirates, but the pirates seem to think they own the seas, and I'm not gonna be the one to tell them otherwise.

When Dogshank first joined the crew of the Misfortune's Keep, she had a major chip on her shoulder. Everything angered her, and while she did whatever was asked of her, she did it with a snarl.

She got along with no one. Flintlocke was too bossy, Doubloon was too quiet, Monkey Wretch was an insufferable little imp. All the other pirates either stared at this hulking blue beast or looked away in fear. She knocked Flintlocke across the deck once.

But the most annoying of them all had to be Clancee. The little snake seemed to be capable of only three things: stuttering, stumbling around mopping and getting in the way, and leaning over the ship's railing throwing up.

Dogshank met him on her first day, doing the lattermost. She had been storming up from belowdeck after chewing out two pirates for whispering about her when they thought she wasn't looking. As she thumped across the deck, trailing a metaphorical stormcloud of ire, she caught sight of the scaly pirate draped over the railing, coughing. She stopped for a moment, wondering what a pirate was doing being seasick.

Just at that moment Clancee straightened up, groaning, and swung around to walk away. Instead he plowed straight into Dogshank. The little snake gave a squawk as he tumbled backwards, peg-leg flailing in the air, then fell still and stared up at Dogshank. The blue warrior swelled a little with indignation, but held off on punching Clancee's lights out. There was something about his stare that was a little less insulting than most, somehow. He didn't seem repulsed or scandalized; more like just plain awed.

After a few seconds Clancee's long snakish tongue started working again.

"H-h-hello there!" he stammered. "S-s-s-so sorry! So sorry, didn't see you there, sir."

Dogshank had almost let down her guard, disarmed by the snake's plaintive tones, but at the "sir" she growled and fetched Clancee a smack in the head that made him squeal.

"I'm a lady!" she bellowed, and turned to storm off.

"Wh-wh-wh-what?" Clancee stared after the retreating pirate, bewildered. "W-w-wait—"

He reached out a futile hand, meaning to get up and follow Dogshank, but then his poor gizzard rebelled again and forced him to lurch for the railing.

o.o.o.o.o

They met again at dinner, down in the large galley/mess hall combination. Dogshank stood brooding in the soup line with her regular-sized bowl, wondering how she was going to keep from starving on this ship. Clancee sidled up to her timidly.

"H-hello again," he chirped, then cowered a little as Dogshank's yellow glower swung to him. "Errr—I'm s-sorry I called you sir, marm . . . "

Reminding her about it may have been a mistake. A few of the other pirates looked on, laughing, as Dogshank chased a screeching Clancee out of the mess hall with a ladle.

o.o.o.o.o

Dogshank eventually settled into pirate life. She was still surly and largely friendless, but she channeled her frustration and her new hulking form into some spectacular melee skills. Nadakhan was most impressed by her sheer power, and informed her that if she continued to perform well, she would quickly rise up the ranks.

Most of the other pirates got used to her, although they still kept a respectful distance. Clancee, however, seemed to never quite adjust to being around her. Whether it was tripping and falling on his face directly in her path, stumbling and spilling mopwater down her front, or meeting her in narrow hallways where passing each other was hopelessly awkward, he seemed to have a particular talent for getting on her nerves.

Flintlocke was her other biggest annoyance. Once he had recovered from his initial unease, he adopted a particular manner of speech with Dogshank that drove her up the wall. A sort of saucy drawl, not quite mocking enough to justify punching him out, but plenty enough to send shudders of fury down her spine.

The first time he called her "Buttercup," she smashed thirty-four training dummies before she felt even remotely calm. She would have smashed his face instead, but the captain had been watching at the time. Curse that first mate's smug mustached face.

That night she sat stewing over her stew, alone at a table in the corner, eating as slowly as she could to make her dinner last. She was almost always hungry; she only received a regular bowl like all the other crewmembers, but her large body needed much more than that. That was one of the reasons she really wanted that promotion—higher officers could eat whenever they wanted.

Presently she felt a small quivering form at her elbow.

"Leave. Now." she growled.

"B-b-but you're all alone here," said Clancee, surprisingly determined. Dogshank watched him guardedly as he set his own bowl down on the table, wondering why he kept trying to be so friendly. All she'd ever done was punch him.

"The other pirates," she said, "have wisely decided not to hang around me. Wisely," she added darkly.

"Don't you w-want some company?" said Clancee. "You must be lonely."

"I don't want company," said Dogshank tersely. "I want a promotion, a decent bed, and some decent meals."

"Oh." Clancee stirred his stew. "But some friends w-wouldn't hurt, would they?"

"Who would I want to be friends with?" scoffed Dogshank. She knew just what Clancee was driving at, but she felt like stomping on his little snakey heart. It served him right for coming here and bothering her.

"Uhh, well . . . M-m-m . . . m-m-muh-muh-muh . . . " Clancee couldn't seem to get the word out. He looked up at Dogshank's stony expression and seemed to wilt. He changed tacks. "W-well . . . Flintlocke?"

Dogshank snorted violently.

"That pompous fur-faced firearmed fool?"

To her surprise Clancee stifled a giggle. She blinked; it was . . . oddly rewarding, making someone laugh. She pushed the thought away and rolled her eyes.

"Not a chance. He's the second-to-last person on this ship that I'd be friends with."

"B-b-but he likes you!" said Clancee earnestly. "'E likes you a lot!"

"Pfff. Me?"

"Yes'm!" The little snake's head bobbed. "I knows. 'E only uses nicknames for the ones 'e really likes."

Dogshank raised an eyebrow at Clancee, processing. If what he said was true . . . well, that rearranged a few of her perceptions. Could it really be that Flintlocke was just trying to be friendly, and she'd been taking it the wrong way?

At last, though, she only muttered "hmph!" and turned back to her stew. Clancee studied her for a moment, sensing that he wasn't about to get any more conversation out of her.

"Well, g'bye then," he said at last. Standing up, he pushed his untouched bowl of stew closer to Dogshank. "Y-you can have mine."

"I don't want it," said Dogshank reflexively.

"N-neither do I," said Clancee, spreading his hands with a rueful smile. "I p-prob'ly wouldn't be able to keep it down anyway."

He stumped off, leaving the stew and a somewhat irritated Dogshank. She stared after him for a moment, wondering what it was about this infuriating little reptile that always made her feel like such a jerk.

She spared a glance across the mess hall at Flintlocke too, wondering.

o.o.o.o.o

A few days later, Dogshank was feeling particularly optimistic. The sea was bright and sparkling, they had just completed a very successful raid on another ship, and she felt sure that her spectacular battle performance would catch the captain's eye.

"G'morning, m'lady!" chirped Clancee, busily mopping the deck. Dogshank felt cheerful enough to give him a small nod as she strode past.

Then things suddenly went downhill. Clancee must have used too much soapy water on the deck, because Dogshank suddenly felt her foot sliding out from underneath her. She flailed for a moment, struggling to regain her balance, but only succeeded in jamming her other foot into the water bucket. By now truly off-balance, she stumbled across the deck, grabbed for the mast, missed, and pitched headfirst over the ship's railing.

Clancee gave a horrified squawk and hurled himself to the railing.

"Oh no! Oh no no NONONO! Miss Dogshank! Miss Dogshank!"

He grabbed a life preserver and peered into the water—but there was no one there.

Yowling in dismay and throwing the life preserver over the railing willy-nilly, Clancee began to run in panicked circles, screaming "Man overboard! M-man—I mean lady! Lady overboard! Help!"

Meanwhile Dogshank surfaced, coughing, just in time to get bonked on the head by the life preserver. Snarling, she glared up at the ship, where she could hear a very familiar panicky voice.

Clancee was still running in circles when Dogshank suddenly exploded over the railing in a spray of water, like an errant pleiseosaur. The little snake skidded to a halt at the sight of her.

"M-miss Dogshank! You're all right! Oh, 'urrah! Oh, I'm so—" His elation quickly changed into terror as he registered Dogshank's expression. For a second they both stared at each other, Dogshank draped over the railing and breathing hard, Clancee opening and closing his mouth in silence.

Then the snake gave a screech and took off for dear life. Dogshank gave a roar and hurled herself after him, skidding on all fours when necessary. Clancee leaped and dodged frantically, yelping apologies, as Dogshank's fists smashed within inches of him again and again. Dogshank wanted no apologies; she wanted to wring this overgrown salamander's neck and wring it good.

They chased all over the ship, knocking over barrels, bouncing off masts, stumbling over ropes. Dogshank wasn't even looking at what she was mowing down anymore.

Finally she got her target cornered. Poor Clancee slipped on his own soapy deck and went sprawling, sliding into the wheelhouse with a painful bump. Gasping, he rolled over to find Dogshank towering over him, smacking one fist into her palm.

"W-wait, Dogshank! P-p-please!" begged the little snake, throwing up his hands helplessly. "P-please, n-no!"

Dogshank growled, raising her fist high—Clancee covered his eyes—

—Then suddenly a pair of shots rang out from nearby. All action abruptly stopped. Those double shots were Flintlocke's signal for "assemble the crew immediately."

Taking advantage of Dogshank's brief hesitation, Clancee squirmed to his feet and whisked up the ladder, going to answer the summons. Dogshank gave a brief growl, but decided she would fry the snake's gizzard later. If she wanted to get that promotion, she'd better be conscientious about answering calls to assembly.

There was already a fair crowd of pirates gathering around Flintlocke and Nadakhan on the stern of the ship. Dogshank saw the reason why, and all at once her heart sank. The ship's wheel had been completely destroyed—she must have smashed it while chasing Clancee in her blind rage. There went all hope of promotion, maybe forever.

And it was all that scrawny, stammering, no-good lily-livered lizard's fault—

Flintlocke had started addressing the crew.

"Nowww, I don't wanna name any names," he said, looking around with his hands on his hips. "But somebody has damaged our wheel. We are curren'ly stranded and adrift, vulnerable to attack, until we can get this here wheel fixed." He squinted at Dogshank for a moment. "Now, I think we all know there is only one person on this ship with enough power to smash a wheel like this . . . "

All eyes turned to Dogshank. Surprised at the feeling of shame welling inside her, she hung her head.

"It was me," she said, her voice quieter than it had ever been since she first joined this crew.

A murmer went through the pirates. Nadakhan and Flintlocke looked at each other; Nadakhan shook his head disapprovingly. Flintlocke turned to Dogshank.

"I must admit I'm disappointed," he said. "You seemed mighty promisin' at first. I thought you could get ahold of that temper'mental nature of yours and become a really great member of the crew. But I guess I was wrong."

Dogshank clenched her fists at her sides, staring at the splintered fragments of the wheel lying at her feet.

"I'm sorry," said Flintlocke. "But we'll have to put you—"

"W-wait!" piped a sudden thin, terrified voice. Somehow it still caught everyone's attention.

"I-it was my fault!" said Clancee.

Dogshank lifted her head to stare at the snake, as did all the other pirates. Clancee's voice was shaking, and so were his knees, but he kept his head up high in determination. Nadakhan tilted his head, interested.

"Explain," he said.

"M-m-miss Dogshank didn't do anythin' wrong, Cap'n," said Clancee. "I was swabbing the deck y'see, and she—she slipped. I u-used too much s-s-s-sssoap."

"So the broken wheel is your fault? . . . " said Nadakhan.

"Yessir." For once no stammer. Dogshank stared, bewildered.

Meanwhile Nadakhan gave a long-suffering "what-am-I-going-to-do-with-this-snake" sigh.

"Put him in the brig, boys," he called, waving at two pirates. Apparently this was not a new procedure; the pirates deftly took Clancee by an arm each and frog-marched him off. The other pirates began to drift away, going back to their jobs. Dogshank started slightly when she realized Flintlocke was approaching her.

"Sorry if I was a little quick to accuse ya there," he said, looking uncharacteristically sheepish behind the mustache. "I guess you deserve more credit than I was givin' ya."

He stuck out his hand. Dogshank looked at it for a moment, but at last reached out and shook it firmly.

"Understood, sir." She hesitated. "Thank you."

"Argh." Flintlocke shook his wrist and chuckled ruefully as he drew back his hand. "You got quite the grip there, Blossom."

Dogshank stiffened reflexively, but she remembered what Clancee had said and held her tongue. Now that she took the time to notice, maybe she did see a mischievous sparkle in Flintlocke's eye. As the first mate turned away, Dogshank caught herself almost smiling.

o.o.o.o.o

That night she snuck onto the deck after curfew and found the brig. Mainly by following the discordant strains of Clancee singing to himself.

The little snake gave a squeak of fright when Dogshank's shadow blocked the scanty light filtering down to him. Then he rolled over and peered up at her. The blue pirate peered back down at him through the grating.

"H-h-hello, Miss Dogshank!" Clancee whispered loudly. "What're you doin' out here?"

Dogshank didn't bother to answer. Even she didn't know.

"Why did you say it was your fault?" she said at last.

"Well, it was, marm!" said Clancee cheerfully. "I shouldn' have put so much soap on that deck." He looked up, suddenly nervous. "T-terribly sorry about that, by the way, marm."

Dogshank said nothing, so Clancee continued, heartened.

"B-besides, I knew you really wanted that promotion. I f-f-figured you could do without the brig staining your reputation!" He settled down more comfortably. "I'll be fine, marm, don't worry. They'll let me out tomorrow, good as new!"

Dogshank hesitated for a moment. At last, though, she muttered "hmph!" and turned away, stumping below-deck.

Eventually her conscience got to pricking her. She snuck out again later that night and slipped a little bread and cheese through the grating, since Clancee hadn't had any dinner. Clancee was asleep when she did it, which was fine by her. The last thing she needed was the little twerp thinking she cared and getting all clingy.

o.o.o.o.o

Storms hit the Misfortune's Keep, as they did all pirate ships. The Straits of Tropicana were particularly nasty at this time of year. Dogshank, newly promoted and on much less aggressive terms with most of the crew by now, rather enjoyed striding around in the wind and sea-spray, hauling at cables and battening hatches.

Clancee, however, was utterly miserable. The unfortunate Serpentine was so seasick that he couldn't eat or sleep for three days; by the end of the third day all he could do was lie below-deck on a tangle of blankets and groan, occasionally poking his head out of the porthole to throw up.

Dogshank passed through the room where he was lying, on her way to fetch some new awnings. The ship rolled beneath her feet, creaking. As she passed Clancee's nest of woe, his small scaly head rose up slightly from the blankets.

"M-morning, Miss . . . Dogshank . . . " he wavered, managing a woozy smile.

Dogshank gave him a glance and a nod, continuing on. Outside the door, however, she found one of the crewmen, Squamo. The pirate was leaning against the doorframe, loudly munching a seabiscuit.

"What are you doing?" said Dogshank, irritated by the harsh crunching sounds.

Squamo nodded back from where Dogshank had come, grinning.

"The reptile's useless right now, may as well get some entertainment out of him," he said. "There's nothin' for seasickness like hearin' someone else eat." He took another noisy bite out of the biscuit, sniggering when a plaintive moan drifted back from Clancee's nest.

Dogshank stood still for a moment, feeling an odd sort of fury overtaking her. It was somehow different from the rage she'd been feeling so often ever since she joined this crew.

Giving a sudden growl, she hoisted Squamo off his feet by the back of the shirt, dragged the startled pirate down the hall, and tossed him down the chute where the galley crew threw kitchen scraps. Giving a victorious snort at his yelps of indignation, she cast a brief glance down the hall to Clancee's room. Then she stormed onwards into the kitchen.

A little snarling and gnashing of teeth chased away the entire galley crew; once they were gone, Dogshank bolted the door and began to stomp around the galley, gathering pots and ingredients. She had a little difficulty finding some of the things she needed, and she had to make a few creative substitutions, but she more or less made do.

Honestly it wasn't that easy for her. Dogshank did not cook.

At last she decided it must be finished. Scooping her concoction onto a large shallow dish, she plowed out of the galley and down the hall. Clancee was still lying with half-closed eyes on his nest, too tired to stay awake and too queasy to sleep. He attempted to say hello, but all he could manage was a slightly more organized groan. Dogshank set the bowl down by his head.

"Eat."

"Mmlllrrrrrmmmm . . . " moaned Clancee, burying his face in the blankets. "N-no . . . marm . . . couldn' keep it . . . down . . . "

"You need to eat," said Dogshank firmly. "And drink. This is a special pudding; it will give you some liquid and help settle your stomach."

Clancee tilted one yellow eye up at her. Then he extended his neck slightly to eye the watery green mixture Dogshank had set before him.

"It works." Dogshank was amazed at her own patience. "Just try a little."

Hesitantly Clancee stretched out his neck a little more and took a cautious nibble. His eyes brightened immediately; the pudding contained a lot of mint and licorice, so it was cool and soothing going down. Soon he was scarfing eagerly away, eventually picking up the bowl and licking it clean. Dogshank watched, a little amused.

Clancee finally finished off the last miniscule dab of the mix, licking his chops.

"Th-that was wunnerful, Miss Dogshank," he said fervently.

"It was my mother's recipe for an upset stomach," said Dogshank.

"O-oh." Clancee looked down shyly, tracing the edge of the bowl with the provided spoon—which he had not used. Dogshank wondered why she had bothered to tell him that much. What kind of mush was she going to descend to next?

"Don't get lively just yet," she said gruffly. "Lie still. Let's wait to make sure it stays settled."

Clancee nodded, nestling down a bit more comfortably. Dogshank busied herself with a torn sail, trying to ignore him.

"What was your wish?" said Clancee suddenly.

Dogshank turned to give him an incredulous look.

"Ev'ryone in this crew's wished for somethin' before joining," said Clancee. "What did you wish?"

A long silence. Clancee gulped uneasily. At last Dogshank sighed and turned away.

"I wished to stand out," she said. "I wanted beauty."

She didn't turn around, knowing that Clancee's face must involuntarily be scrunched into a "boy, that sure went well" expression. This little serpent was pushing his luck; she wondered why she let him get away with it.

"I-is that why you were so angry?" said Clancee at last.

"Who says I was angry?" said Dogshank drily, but regretted it a little when Clancee cringed. She huffed resignedly. "I suppose so. I wasn't bad-looking before I made that wish. I . . . I got greedy, I guess. And look at me now. A monster."

"O-oh." Clancee said nothing for a moment. Dogshank grunted and headed for the door, figuring he must be all right if he'd kept his meal down this long.

"You're b-b-b-b-beautiful on the inside, Miss Dogshank!" Clancee suddenly called after her.

Dogshank turned around to stare at him, wondering if it would still be appropriate after all this to wring his scrawny little serpent neck.

"Uhhh . . . I m-mean, thank you for the meal, m-marm," said Clancee timidly.

Dogshank looked at him for a moment more, then finally rolled her eyes and left with a huff.

Apasso's teeth. She was smiling, wasn't she?