Chapter two! Yay! Erm...yeah, not much to say about this chapter...it's not as violent as the last one (actually, there's more or less no violence), but don't be disappointed. There will be violence in the future!

I don't own the Prince, the Dahaka, or the background story about those two. I own all of the other characters though.

Captain Nesia stood at the wheel of her ship, fighting to keep control of it in the savage storm that swirled and howled around them. A wave crashed over the deck, soaking the crew that worked there, trying to tie down the sails. The rain came in heavy sheets now, making it near impossible to see anything at all. The tiller in her hands fought against her grasp, trying desperately to escape her tenuous grip. She gritted her teeth, however, and fought against the growing pain in her arms. A man came slipping and stumbling over to her side.

"We should batten down, and try to ride the storm out before we lose any men," the man, her first mate Rico, shouted over the storm. Nesia looked around, trying to determine how much longer the storm would last. She was about to tell him that they could make it through this, but a wave swept over the deck, and something hard knocked her from her feet. It was only the quick reflexes of Rico, as he grabbed the wet wheel, that kept the tiller from spinning out of control. Nesia was quick to spring to her feet, though, and she was going to reclaim control of the tiller, when she noticed what it was that had hit her.

It was a man. Or, at least, the body of one. Approaching him slowly, she knelt by his side, and rolled him onto his back. The only thing she could tell through the rain was that he was badly injured, if not already dead. Yet another wave hit the deck, splashing over the deck, and reminding Nesia of the storm they were in the middle of. She stood up, and turned to Rico.

"Give the order to tie down the ship," she yelled over the wind and rain. "We'll wait for this storm to run out." He nodded, and relinquished control of the wheel to the captain. Then the tall man slid down to the main deck, fighting hard to keep his balance. Nesia began to tie the tiller into place, wrapping a thick rope around it and the heavy post it rested on. Once she was satisfied that it was secured in place, she started down to the main deck. Rico stood there, holding onto the railing for support.

"What of the man?" he roared, pointing in the direction of the body that lay on the higher deck behind her.

"Bring him below," she shouted back, and staggered towards the door leading below decks. She had to force the door open against the winds, and had just got it open, when a high waver knocked her over. Cursing, she wrenched the door open yet again, and then held it open to let Rico pass. He carried the limp man in his arms, who didn't seem any more alive yet. Nesia followed, slamming the door shut tightly behind her.

It was crowded below decks, due to the twenty odd men that were stuck down there while the storm raged above them. They lounged about, many playing cards or gambling with dice, though all seemed tense from the storm their ship was in the middle of. Nesia wound her way towards her room at the stern of the ship, ignoring the strange looks the men were giving her when they noticed the body Rico carried.

"Put him on my bed," the woman told Rico once they were in her rooms, "and get Quinn in here with his healing kit." The first mate raised her eyebrows at her, wondering if something hard had struck his captain's head while they were above deck.

"He looks pretty much dead to me," he pointed out, though he placed the prone man on Nesia's bed anyway. The captain simply grinned at him.

"So if he does survive, it means he's made out of some tough stuff. Which means I want him on my crew," she replied. "Now go grab Quinn. I want to get out of these wet things before I start to rot." Rico shrugged, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Who was he to tell his captain what to do?

Nesia had began to undress the moment she had stopped talking to Rico, so she was out of her wet garments in a few seconds. Tossing them over her high-backed chair that say behind her desk, she rummaged around in a short dresser for some new, dry clothes. She pulled on a plain shirt and breeches, which were followed by a sleeveless tunic. She was just belting on her sword when she heard a knock on the door.

"That had better be you Rico, and you'd better have Quinn with you," Nesia said as the door opened. Rico sighed as he and Quinn walked in.

"I'm glad we didn't disappoint you," the first mate said dryly. Nesia ignored him, and beckoned for Quinn to come to her bed. He did so, placing the bag that contained all of his medical supplies on the floor, and knelt next to the man lying on the bed.

"Well?" Nesia asked, coming to stand on the other side of the bed.

"It would seem that our friend here is still alive," Quinn said, not taking his eyes off of the man he was examining. His captain nodded approvingly, and shot Rico a triumphant look. "He has taken quite a beating, though. Let's see...broken wrist, almost missing an ear, quite a few deep gouges on his sides, bruised neck, several broken ribs, several more cracked ribs, lots of cuts and scratches, some of which are infected, and who knows how much blood loss." Nesia winced at all these wounds.

"What I need to know, is can you fix him?" the woman asked.

"I will see what I can do," Quinn replied. "It would help, though, if you got me something to sit on and some clean water." Nesia dragged a stool over for him, and one for herself, while Rico left the room to get some water. Quinn opened his bag, and took out a rolled up strip of linen bandages. "Can you help me get this armor off?" he asked the woman who sat across the bed from him. She nodded, and began to undo the leather buckles on the armor, as Quinn took off his belts and the red sash he wore around his waist.

Once Nesia had all the buckles undone, she gently took off the armor, and placed it on the floor next to her. Glancing at the man's chest, she winced. She could clearly see the broken ribs now, as they stretched and deformed the skin around them. The gouges in his sides were indeed very deep, reaching the bone. She frowned, and inspected the wounds closer, to see that the pressure from whatever had caused them had also managed to crack some ribs underneath them.

"Here," Quinn said, tossing her a roll of bandages, "if you start to wrap up the cuts on his right arm, I can start setting his wrist." Nesia nodded, and started to wrap the linen around a deep gash on his upper arm.

Close to an hour later, the two had managed to treat the man as best they could. Quinn had set his broken left wrist, and secured it with a wooden splint. He and Nesia had cleaned the gouges on his sides, and covered them with a thick gauze, then wrapped his whole torso tightly with bandages, in hopes of healing is broken ribs. They were forced to remove the upper half of his ear, due to several large splinters in there that they couldn't get out, and had wrapped a bandage around his ear and head. They had found that his knee had been twisted, and several more gashes on his legs that needed treating. They had simply gotten rid of the shredded remains of his baggy, knee-length pants. All of the other cuts had been cleaned, and the deeper one covered.

"Now we wait," Quinn said when they were done, as he packed his supplies back up, "and pray that he gets better. Nesia nodded, but did not leave when he did. She sat by the man, looking him over.

He had sharp, regal features, with strong cheekbones. His chin-length dark hair thick, and still wet, she assumed from the time he had spent in the sea. He had a faint trace of a beard, that was thicker on his chin. A scar on the left side of his face ran from above his eyebrow to his cheek, just missing his eye. Despite his many wounds, however, he seemed like a survivor.

Nesia picked up his breastplate, the one she had dropped on the floor earlier. It was made of leather, with strips of metal running along it. It was light, and incredibly flexible. There was something in the middle of it, though, set into the metal. It looked to be a medallion of some sort. Frowning, she rubbed a hand over it, then tried to remove it.

The man on the bed sat up suddenly, eyes flying open, and he grabbed Nesia's arm before she could remove the medallion. Startled as she was by this, she instinctively dropped the armor, grabbed her sword, and had it against the man's neck in a split second.

"Nice to see that you're so welcoming towards the person that just saved your life," she remarked dryly. The man looked around, disoriented for a second, but then locked his icy blue eyes back on her honey coloured ones.

"What are you doing with my things?" he asked, trying to seem calm, though Nesia could hear the anger in his voice. Her mouth twisted into a wry smile, and she sheathed her cutlass.

"I'm just looking, no need to get all uptight about it," she replied, although she realized that there was something special about that medallion in his armor. "Just incase you were curious, I'm Captain Nesia Sharkrider, and you are aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge."

"Sharkrider?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow, then wincing as it opened a cut on his forehead.

"A name given to me based on some events a while back," she replied. "Now, if I may ask, who are you? And where are you from?" The man's eyes narrowed, and his look grew colder. Seeing this, the woman shrugged. "Fine, don't tell me then. But I will know eventually."

"I am from Persia, and am the son of the Sultan there," he replied, after a moment's hesitation.

"Royalty, then? You're quite a ways from home, Prince," she remarked. Nesia noticed that this comment made him wince visibly. She also noticed that he still gripped her forearm tightly. She twisted her arm, and pulled it away, breaking his grip. "Now you should probably be getting some rest now," she continued. The man frowned at her, though he could feel the blackness of unconsciousness beginning to cloud his vision. The burst of energy that had awakened him had run out, and he laid back down on the bed, closing his eyes, and accepting the darkness.

Nesia watched him for a moment more, her look calculating. Then she left, going to check if the storm had abated at all.

Kudos to anyone who knows where I got the name of the ship from!

Please review...I need some feedback!