Prologue

The moonlight slid over the waves as the Wandering Lady floated through the endless oblivion. Her hull cut through the water like a silent predator led only by the northern star. Around her, the wash of the sea upon wood was the only sound that could be heard, save for the occasional whine of the wind bouncing off the continuous ocean.

Her captain stood poised at the helm, staring out at a point in the distance intently, her face giving away no clue as to what could be there

"Graham," she called, as she lowered her spyglass from her emerald green eyes. Her first mate came stumbling from his cabin and she ordered him, "Rouse the crew. I spot a sinking ship. No bloodletting. This is a salvage mission."

"Aye, Captain." The handsome man gave her a swift nod before heading off below decks. Within minutes, the ship was a hive of movement, men moving across the wooden boards as they prepared themselves to plunder the ship that was coming swiftly upon them.

The captain of the Wandering Lady steered her starboard, manoeuvring them until they were alongside the half submerged ship and watching the water lap dangerously close to the deck.

"Only four at a time," the Captain called harshly, "I don't want you dogs dying on my watch."

The four men nearest the railing nodded as ropes were thrown down from the sails. Crossing a plank would be far too dangerous and the Captain wasn't willing to dive in after her crew if it meant the risk of pneumonia. She respected them enough to give them warning, it was up to them after that to keep themselves alive.

Which is why, when a raucous yell came from below the decks of the sinking ship, she swore beneath her breath. Clearly the ship belonged to the navy and from what she knew of navy ships, they always had spare boats in the event of things like this.

Evidently this one didn't.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, throwing off her long sweeping jacket as she raced down the stairs. She beckoned to the young boy in the crow's nest and he threw her a rope without hesitation. Wrapping it around her wrist, she gave herself a well adjusted, calculated and practiced run up before using the railing to push herself into the air.

Letting go of the rope, she rolled across the damp deck of the navy ship, wetting her shirt with freezing cold water in the process. Getting to her feet quickly, she drew her gleaming sword and hurried down after her crew to where she found a warm and sweaty room filled with dampness and men. They had her crew in strangleholds and the captain simply looked at the strange men incredulously. There had to be around seven of them; where the rest of the navy crew were, she didn't know nor care.

"You appear to be sinking, gentlemen," she stated almost mockingly, eyes scanning over them. It was a man from the back who called.

"We are the King's men. We will die with honour."

"I see your honour and raise you a cowering in the darkness as you wait for death to seal its icy wet hands around your throats."

The men gasped at the woman's harsh words. She continued, unfazed. "Your captain has said his piece, but what of you men? Would you prefer to be saved?"

A hushed whispering grew amongst them, even as the Naval Captain tried to regain control of his men.

"Live as free men, or die slaves to the crown," she called out amongst them, voice growing stronger. "What say you?"

"Aye!" A resounding call echoed and the pirate smiled.

"Let's go then," she ordered, climbing up the stairs the moment her men were released from their stranglehold, followed by the troupe of former naval officers. It was easy. Perhaps too easy to get them to change their allegiance. Taking aside on of the pirates who had come with her she muttered, "Booth, take young Locksley and teach him what we do with our enemies."

The young man seemed to hesitate as he looked up into his captain's eyes. "I don't mean any disrespect, Captain, but surely the young man well, men, would be worth more for ransoming?"

"Men?" the captain inquired sharply.

"The captain," Booth rushed, "And his lieutenant."

The pirate captain pondered a moment, "Perhaps I was hasty," she said reasonably. "You made a good call Booth. Bind them and blindfold them. I'll try and secure a gangplank for safe passage."

It would be difficult, the Captain thought as she watched the naval officers climb up ladders to board the Wandering Lady. It was quite a severe depth that this ship had sunk to. She was almost ankle deep in water and that was rising fast.

"Booth, hurry it up!" she called as she grasped hold of a rope thrown down by Graham. She hauled herself up the rope using the hull as stepping ground, thankful that she was wearing gloves otherwise her hands would be rubbed raw. She watched carefully as her crew secured the gangplank, calling out to her first mate.

"Humbert," the Captain ordered, "Get these men briefed on their duties, quarters; we make port in Senzen by dusk tomorrow to get them some less conspicuous clothing."

"And what of these two, Captain?" Graham enquired, nudging his head at the Navy Captain and Lieutenant who had just successfully managed to board the ship blindfolded with Roland and August at their backs.

"We have names, you know," the young one who she hadn't heard speak yet called in annoyance. His voice was young; impertinent. The kind of man she could deal without.

"Liam and Killian," the Captain answered without question, "The famous Jones brothers. Pride of the royal navy, oh yes, I know you." She stalked forward leading the way down to the brig as her crew continued to nudge the two behind her. "Thing is though, I don't care. You'll be out of my hands tomorrow. And I'll be far from here and I'll never have to see the two of you again."

She snapped the metallic door closed behind them, but not before considering and pulling the knots from the back of the blindfolds upon their faces.

"You should remember your desolation," she nodded in appreciation as she turned to leave. But in the next second, the sound of metal clanging forced her to turn around. Her crew had already left; it was just her and her prisoners. The Captain stood in the shadows. It was Lieutenant Killian Jones who spoke to her.

"And what should we call you, milady?" the lieutenant asked almost mockingly, his hands – those hands looked interesting – wrapped around the metal bars as he brought his face up to rest on them.

"My crew call me Captain Swan," she answered coldly. "Call me anything less and I'd be worried about that pretty face of yours, Lieutenant."

Then she shut the door.

He watched it for hours, fuming, after she left.

Review? :)