A/N: This was inspired by a Mulan fic I read years ago. An UmaxHarry piece.
Enjoy!
It was cold, it was dark and it was wet. Usually Uma didn't mind these three things, but when she was on land she truly detested the combination. At sea, she didn't mind at all, it made her feel alive.
However she wasn't aboard her beloved ship, instead she was stabling the horses while Harry went to procure rooms for the night, and all Uma wanted was to strip out of the sodden clothes she was currently in. They had managed to find a small inn before the weather had really hurled itself down upon the pair, but they still had a fair way to travel and Uma was anxious for a bed so she could be up and early the next morning.
Ensuring the horses were dry and well fed took longer than anticipated and by the time she hurried across the courtyard, she was thoroughly grumpy. So opening the door of the inn was a only a momentary relief, as the blast of heat from the indoors seemed to dissipate at the sight before her. A bruiser, hulking man held Harry aloft in a tight grip, and looked set to beat him black and blue. She slammed the door and the tension only grew.
"Is there a problem here?" Her voice cut across the atmosphere and all eyes were now focused on her.
"This don't concern you little miss." Another man growled, and turned his back on her. Uma noticed Harry wince.
"The man in that brute's hand makes it my concern." Uma's voice drew their attention once more, and she held their gazes as she slid her coat from her shoulders. She felt the palpable change as they leered at her choice of clothing. Male clothing was suited to riding far more than the current fashion for women, but it had the effect of riling people up and it seemed like this would be the problem again.
"What are you going to do, flutter your eyelashes at me and beg me not to punch this scrap?" The brute in question grinned at her, eyes running up and down her body. "Go on wee little woman, what exactly are you going to do?" His smile got wider as she slung her coat onto the peg by the door and took a step towards him.
"Why do men mistake a woman to be passive?" Uma's voice was just above a growl, but the man's expression only continued to leer at her until she was stood opposite him. She was staring at him, eyebrow raised and she sized up the man before her.
"Lass." Harry's voice was quiet.
"Listen to the man. This has nothing to do with you." The oaf repeated, unaware that the warning in Harry's voice was not for her to protect herself.
"Who's the innkeeper?" Uma ignored both of them but noted the man by the bar raising his hand. "Okay then. Have you finished?" She turned back to the brute who had been bemused but was growing increasingly frustrated.
"Oh sweetheart, do you expect your little bleatings to stop me from beating this…"
Uma stopped his tongue with a swift strike to his elbow, dislocating the joint and freeing Harry who dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way. This was as Uma dodged the man's wild swing, and tripped the brute sending him tumbling to the floor on his newly injured elbow. He howled in pain as he landed, but she stepped over him and towards the innkeeper.
"One room or two?" He asked, staring wide-eyed at the woman opposite him.
"Let's say one. We need to be at port early tomorrow and I've wasted enough time as it is." She snapped.
"Port?" The word slipped from the barman's mouth and he screwed his mouth up in fear as she shot him a look.
"Aye, who do you think captains the Siren's Song?" Harry grunted, having collected Uma's coat and picked up the bags.
"You're Captain Uma?!" A voice from the far end of the bar piped out and there was a weird hush as Uma's attention moved to the rest of the bar.
"I am. I teach the men on ship manners, something that lacks in the men on land." She said with a tone that straightened the spine of almost every man scattered around the inn. "If you wait five minutes, I'll fix your elbow." She turned to the bully still prone on the floor. "Don't be proud, sailors are used to fixing worse injuries than that." She said at the sour look on his face.
