A/N: Sorry for the wait. Here's an extra long chapter to make up for it. Thanks to everyone who's sticking with me on this one.
Death, death, death, death… The chant sounded in her ears as she lit a cannon, barely blocking her ears in time to save them from the blast. Elsa swore as the ball pulled to the right, missing the sloop by feet. They'd counted the rogues aboard- ten in all, while the Urðr had fifteen, not including Olaf. Upon hearing of their advantage, the less experienced men had voted immediately to stand their ground and fight. Like most of the elder hands, Elsa had voted the same out of indifference- it had been a unanimous decision on the crew's part to resist the pirates for as long as they could. Far better to die with a little dignity than to roll over like a pack of dogs. Her eyes flickered momentarily to Olaf, who was keeping busy with the task of powder monkey, his face nearly covered in gunpowder from when he'd tripped and spilled the contents of the bag.
Twenty yards off, Elsa thought to herself, hand automatically reaching for her blunderbuss. One of the pirates, a large blonde man with a strange fur vest, was screaming at the men to cast over the grapples. To her left, one of the crew- Turner, a man she had liked well enough- was hit square in the chest by a cannon blast. Her blue eyes followed his body as it hit the deck with a sickening crush, the man dead before he hit the wood. She could feel no remorse for him- he died painfully, yes, but quickly. Should the pirates best them, the survivors would be facing much worse. A quick and painful death was preferable to whatever horrors these barbarians might inflict on their captives.
The death chant had tapered off into mindless screaming as the pirates surged onto the merchantman's deck. Grenadoes flew back and forth between the ships, causing mayhem with their small explosions, but Elsa was far too focused to pay them any mind. She quickly pressed her advantage, taking interest an older, scruffy looking man who seemed to hobble a bit. The thought of killing him nearly disgusted her, and if it weren't for the vicious swipe of his cutlass narrowly missing her abdomen, she might have let him be. As it was, her eyes narrowed on him, knowing that he could be an easy target. One less rogue to worry about later. She knocked back the hammer of the blunderbuss, taking quick aim at the man's head. Point blank. There was no way she could miss, no chance the man had in hell-
A double bang, two quick successions. Elsa dropped the gun she was holding, hissing in pain as blood bloomed across her shoulder. The man she'd been poised to kill fell forward, clutching a ruined left ear. I had him! What blithering, foul tempered swine - Her head whipped around, eyes narrowed dangerously. There, standing with his pistol aimed at her back and looking thoroughly shocked, was a young man, a pirate. His green eyes were wide as saucers, and the gun shook a bit in his hand- Elsa noted that this may very well have been his first time shooting, that he had been aiming to kill and not wound. No matter, this battle would soon be finished. She reached for her cutlass, watching with a small smirk as her opponent drew as well, gaze now determinedly focused on her own. Testing the waters, she lunged forward- the pirate parried her move effectively, much to her surprise. What kind of rogue be this, with swordsmanship to rival a lord and marksmanship to rival a dog?
Her antagonist lunged forward with quick, well rehearsed steps, driving Elsa back until her side crashed with the bulwark. The clash of steel echoed around them- a few strands of hair fell into her face as blocked the pirate's blows, her arm throbbing agonizingly. Blood dripped from the wound, and as much as she hated to admit it, this particular sailor had skills to rival her own. He would have found a place amongst the cavalry had he not turned pirate at so young an age, with nary a hair on his chin. If she had any hope to survive this battle, she would have to switch tactics.
Pushing the man away from her roughly, she dropped into a slightly crouched stance and smirked at him. Green eyes narrowed at her, and she motioned cockily with both hands. "Have at me you bastard, you sniveling pup," Elsa teased in a nasty tone, watching as the man became more and more infuriated. "Come on, whelp, you son of a whore…" Rage sparked in the other's eyes, and he screamed, lunging at Elsa with his full force. She sidestepped, slamming the rogue into the rail of the ship. A satisfied grin formed on her lips as she lifted her blade, fully intending to drive it into the young man's back.
"Quarter! Quarter!"
"No!" Elsa's furious snarl echoed in the air as she turned, momentarily forgetting her quarry. Her eyes widened in indignation as she took in the crew of the Urðr, now all prostrate before the pirates, some weeping quietly. Three of the members including Turner were dead, nearly all the rest wounded, but she felt the anger rising in her chest. Never, never in all her years as a soldier and a sailor had she ever surrendered. She would rather die.
Cold steel pressed into her neck, as if answering her thoughts. The man who she'd bested, who she'd been seconds away from finishing off, was now staring at her with a toothy grin, triumphant. Her hand gripped the cutlass harder- perhaps she could put this dog out of its misery in one last, vain attempt at victory. Before she could act on the impulse, however, a timid voice reached her ears.
"Elric?" The blonde's eyes flickered to her right. Olaf stood, his eyes red from crying, a knife pressed to his throat by the sailor whose ear she'd marred. The boy's right cheek was bleeding heavily, but his gaze showed no pain- only fear for his protector as he eyed the cutlass in her hand. Elsa's resolve weakened; what would they do to the boy if she was no longer able to look out for him? None of the other sailors would protect him, not if it meant their lives being put at risk. If she died, he would be alone and at the mercy of the pirates.
Her grip on the cutlass slackened. She may not have feared her own death, but she would not allow Olaf to suffer. Not if she could help it. With a disgusted look at the rest of the crew, she flung the blade down to the deck in defeat.
"Does it hurt?" Olaf's quiet whisper caused Elsa to sigh in irritation, her hand reflexively smoothing back strands of hair.
"A might, yes." The gunshot wound on her arm had been crudely bandaged with a bit of cloth, but she would be lying if she didn't admit it was sore. The pain was minimal compared to the blow her pride had received, though.
After they'd been disarmed, the Urðr's had been rounded up and deposited into the bows, left to murmur in terror about their fate whilst their captors reveled on deck. The stench of rum wafted up to them as the pirates raucously celebrated their victory, hardly paying their captives any mind except to jeer. Elsa for her part was doing her best to ignore her shipmates, still angry with them for calling quarter and not fighting to their deaths like men.
A little sigh caused her to glance over at Olaf, who was leaning against her good arm. "What?"
"Will they kill us?"
His blunt question startled the blonde- she'd never thought the boy to be quite so reserved to his fate. Something about the disillusionment made her deeply upset, and her answer was fierce. "I do not think so. Perhaps, if we cooperate and do as they say, we will emerge unharmed."
"I do hope so, else this surrendering nonsense will have been for naught." The dark haired boy shifted to look down at the pirates, his gaze now curious. "Who do you suppose the captain is, Elric?"
She nodded her head at the man who'd ordered the pirates to board them. "Him. That one there, with the fur. See how he struts about like some great lord?"
"Aye," Olaf giggled, the sound bringing a small smile to Elsa's face. "He's a proper dandy, ain't he?"
This got a full on chuckle from Elsa, and she ruffled the boy's hair playfully. "I believe ye be right, Olaf, but best not let the captain hear it. Now hush, lad, 'tis best if we're quiet." Silence fell over the pair immediately, and the elder of the two looked out to the deck with an observant gaze.
The pirates were a raucous bunch, but they seemed to be lazing about at the moment, laughing uproariously at some joke one of their lot had told. None in particular seemed to stand out to her- she noticed the captain, with his confident strut and lopsided grin. To his immediate right was a smaller man with sad brown eyes that seemed focused on something far away- only the smallest of smiles seemed to cross his face, and even then the action seemed automatic. The man whose ear she'd shot was the focus of their attention- arms waving animatedly and grin stretched wide, Elsa could only imagine what kind of story he might be telling.
Then, her eyes drifted to the young man she'd fought. The hat that had been hiding his head was removed, revealing light auburn hair with a curious blonde streak down the right side. He was smaller than the rest of the crew, his blouse and trousers exceptionally loose on his slight frame. A red vest fit snugly over his torso, and as he turned to say something to the captain, Elsa's eyes were fixated on that bit of clothing.
Her jaw nearly fell to the deck, eyes bugging out of her head as she noticed the smallest hint of a curving bust, barely noticeable under the layers of cloth. She blinked once, twice, three times, but the sight would not rectify itself. Damn me… Damn me if that ain't a woman!
The vest had done much to hide the lad's- no, lass's - feminine features. In fact, if she hadn't been staring so closely, and if he- damn it, she- hadn't turned, Elsa wouldn't have noticed. But the longer the blonde stared at the other woman, the more she was sure beyond a doubt that this pirate was indeed a female. All the subtle things Elsa had trained herself for years not to do- the delicate pose, the slightly demure turn of the head whenever a man spoke, even her smile- were at once evident in the red-haired girl.
Elsa glanced at the pirates, wondering if they were aware of the anomaly in their crew. None of the members seemed to be treating the woman any differently, none save the captain who, now she was looking properly, leaned just a bit too close to the red-head to be considered strictly friendly. He seemed almost possessive, a small frown crossing his features whenever the woman would direct her attention away from him. There was no way he didn't know her true nature- Elsa would even hazard a guess that the two were lovers, the way the blond looked at his companion. The entire revelation confused her to no end. What sort of rogues were these, that sailed and fought alongside women, treating them not as inferior, but equal?
As if she'd sensed Elsa's staring, the woman suddenly looked up and locked eyes with the blonde. Green bore into blue curiously, neither willing to look away. The red-head continued to watch her captive as she took a swig of rum, ignoring the captain's attempts to reclaim her attention. For her part, the blonde felt a stirring in her chest, a flutter she hadn't felt in over six years. It was this feeling that caused her to glance away and close her eyes, as if the intensity of the other woman's gaze was physically painful.
Goddammit, Elsa. What have you gone and gotten yourself into?
That night, as Anna and Kristoff rutted in the captain's quarters, the redhead could not seem to enjoy herself. Her mind kept drifting from the man currently pleasuring her to the blond sailor she'd been fighting earlier that day.
He was young, the merchant, young enough to have a hairless chin. Yet for some reason, his eyes seemed to hold a wisdom that was beyond his years, a certain cunning that she'd previously only seen in much older men. He had even almost killed Kai- no, would have killed Kai if not for Anna's intervention.
Then there was the matter of his swordplay. Merchants should not have been that skilled in the art of swordsmanship- the mysterious lad's technique was on par with her own, and she trained in fencing since the age of five. How could a poor man, working aboard a merchant ship, have reached her caliber, have bested her? She'd been trained by a master, for Christ's sake!
Kristoff finished with a grunt and she felt his slick body collapse next to her own, pulling her into a warm embrace. Anna struggled to keep the frown off her face- that was another thing that was bothering her. The captain's behavior before the battle had frightened her, planted a seed of doubt in her mind that made their lovemaking even less enjoyable than it might have been. She was determined never to be with another coward like Hans, determined never to make the same mistake again. But the fear in Kristoff's eyes, the irritation in his movements just before they'd won their prize was… unsettling.
Light snores began to fill the room, and Anna sighed tiredly. She disentangled herself from the captain's embrace and got up, pulling on her blouse and trousers but leaving the vest. Exiting the cabin of the ship, she inhaled deeply, letting the cool night air rush into her lungs. Most of the crew was passed out on the deck, the captives asleep in the bows and too timid to try a mutiny at any rate. Her head cocked to the side as she saw movement in the prisoners' area, slow and rhythmic, almost like playing an instrument. The curious part of the woman spurred her forward, only pausing to grab a loaded brace before ascending.
Most of the captives were indeed asleep, safe in their dreams from the horrors of the waking world. Anna almost pitied them as her eyes roved over their sleeping forms. Her eyes finally settled on the source of the disturbance- a light, cream colored hand stroking up and down the back of a boy no older than ten. The arm, which seemed incredibly too thin for a sailor, was attached to none other than Anna's blonde sailor. His eyes were wide open and regarding her with an unreadable expression, their blue irises seeming to glow in the moonlight. A thin face framed the eyes, with a perfectly shaped cupid's bow mouth settled just below a small nose and just above a little chin. Definitely a young lad, Anna thought to herself as she stared at the man in front of her, expression infinitely curious. He's barely out of his youth- still such a childlike face.
"I know I am in no position to bargain," the sailor said suddenly, snapping Anna out of her thoughts. His voice was barely above a whisper, and it had obviously not undergone the change into manhood yet, much like its owner- yet there was a certain quality about it that made her crave more of it. "But I will ask anyway. Do what you will to myself and the men- torture us, kill us- but… please… spare the boy."
Anna's eyes flickered to the child who was fast asleep on the blond sailor's lap. He was pale, with a shock of unruly dark hair and a slightly overlarge nose. Two front teeth poked out from his slightly parted mouth, and she fought the urge to smile at the sight. Keeping her voice level, Anna eyed the sailor with a slightly quirked brow. "And why should I honor your request? Are you not my prisoner, and are you not at my mercy? Perhaps I shall ignore you, and the boy will be first to die."
Anger, pure rage flashed momentarily in the merchant's eyes, and Anna felt her heart clench. As quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone, replaced with a blank, unreadable expression. "You are correct. 'Tis not my place, but I pray thee take my words to heart. The boy is innocent, his only sin being the misfortune of sailing this accursed vessel. I will say only this- I would not wish to die knowing that the blood of an innocent was shed by my hand."
The threat was well hidden, but very plain to the redhead. If any harm was to come to the boy, this young sailor would not hesitate to seek vengeance against the perpetrator of such a crime. Though she could have been offended, should have taken action against such blatant disrespect… Anna could not find it within herself to be anything but impressed at the man's loyalty. She desperately wanted to continue talking with him, to find out more about him, but was stopped when she heard familiar, lumbering footsteps coming toward them.
Kristoff stood glaring at her, his eyes bleary and his clothes disheveled. His voice was loud, waking the crew of the merchantman from their deep slumber. "Prisoners below."
For some reason, Anna's eyes narrowed and her arms crossed defiantly. The crew began to gather themselves, still half asleep, and were filing down to the hold as the redhead stared the captain down. The blond sailor had scooped the cabin boy into his arms and was making to follow, when Anna's hand on his shoulder caused him to freeze. "And what if I would have this one for my own amusement?"
"Prisoners. Below." Kristoff stepped closer to Anna, his posture and body language threatening. The sailor went rigid, arms tensing as he watched the captain with an unreadable expression. Anna paid him no mind, however, her focus being devoted to Kristoff. Eyes narrowed, it was a moment before she allowed the sailor to leave, only meeting his eyes for a second before turning back to the captain. They continued to stare each other down until the door to the hold closed. Finally, the man broke her gaze and turned to stalk back to the cabin, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Anna let out a frustrated sigh and flopped onto the deck, closing her eyes. Men, she growled to herself. Ever the possessive, jealous bastards. I don't know how much more of this I can take.