DISCLAIMER: I don't own Black Sails. It is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
AN: Ok, so the delay really isn't my fault this time. I was hospitalized due to some chest pain which turned out to be an actual, honest-to-God heart attack. Yep, you read right, turns out 27 year olds can have heart attacks too. I didn't think that was a thing, but apparently it is. Anyways, after a procedure called an angioplasty I'm feeling much better and I'm finally ready to get back to my writing! Yey!
As always, a huge thanks to everyone still following and reviewing this story. Words can't accurately express how much all your feedback means to me. I really appreciate it :)
Now, on with the chapter! I certainly hope it's worth the brutal wait. Don't forget to review! :D
DEFINITIONS AND/OR PERIOD SPECIFIC NOTES:
Perfidious: Deliberately faithless; deceitful; treacherous
Peisinoe: In Greek mythology, Peisinoë (the name means persuading mind) is one of thirteen sister sirens. Sirens were thought to be gorgeous half-fish half-woman temptresses who's beautiful singing voices bewitched sailors into leaping from their ships and into the sea. The men would then either drown in the rough waters or die of starvation due to a refusal to leave the siren's side. One of the most famous tales involving sirens is from Homer's the Odyssey (an ancient Greek epic poem). In this story, a trio of sirens sing to Odysseus and his men, attempting to lure them to their deaths. Odysseus saves everyone by filling their ears with wax and binding them to the mast so that following after the sirens is impossible. Later, in the story of the Argonauts, a man named Orpheus saves his crew by playing music louder than the siren's call.
Cunt rolled: Basically just another term for pussy whipped. It's a derogatory term used to describe being at the beck and call of a woman, making your decisions based on the incentive of receiving sex from said woman. Essentially it's the accusation that you do whatever that woman wants because her awesome sex has you brainwashed.
King George I: The king of Great Britain and Ireland from 1714-1698. He's the one who sent Woodes Rogers to take back Nassau.
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"Can you truly blame me?" Teach spat as he rose from his chair and gestured emphatically toward Eleanor. "That paltry pair of tits has been poisoning your mind from the very first moment you laid eyes on her. She makes you weak, Charles. And now, just as always, the perfidious Peisinoë has got you well and truly cunt rolled."
He wasn't entirely wrong, and most everyone in the room knew it. Which only made the statement that much more caustic and biting.
It grated at Charles, left him feeling instinctively defensive and irascible. He did not appreciate the suggestion that he was anything but wholly apathetic, shrewd and calculating. He did not relish the notion of being perceived as anything less than an absolute force to be reckoned with, an overtly formidable individual that wasn't fucked with lightly. That was who he was, who he'd built himself up into with blood, sweat and tears. This hard earned persona was meant to be indisputable, leaving no room for deniability. Those who'd been foolish enough to challenge the viability of this persona had usually been quick to bleed. And those bleeders served their purpose, they operated as unwilling and public reminders of Charles' formidability.
It was usually quite an effective approach.
That being said, if Charles were speaking to anyone other than the people in this room, that method of reminder would likely have already been employed. But alas, this room's occupants had all been deemed friends and allies, taking murder and maiming off the table.
Though he did find himself considering that, should the need arise, he probably wasn't above administering a modest beating. Some reasonably tempered battery never killed anybody, right?
Charles' expression remained relatively unchanged as Teach spoke, but his expression darkened considerably with unspoken threats as he glowered through the haze of what was left of his cigar. He didn't straighten up from his relaxed position, but his lip did curl up slightly into something resembling a snarl. His voice came out sounding low and dangerous when he finally did speak. "Careful, old man..."
Teach outright laughed, a bitter and grating sound. "Or what? You'll put me in my place? Don't flatter yourself, Charles. Old or not, I'm hardly past giving you a thorough thrashing." The threat was uttered casually and with a contemptuously dismissive inflection, as if Teach knew well enough that Charles would do no such thing.
If there was a verbal equivalent to an eye roll, this was it.
Charles still didn't bother yelling or moving from his chair, but his eyes did flash dangerously as they narrowed. Eleanor would swear she could almost hear his teeth grinding from across the table, and she knew it wouldn't be much longer before this situation deteriorated entirely. It wouldn't do them any good to start frothing at the mouth. Teach was doing enough of that on his own already. They had more important things to discuss than Charles' affinity for the slit between her thighs and whether or not he had the ability to pummel his mentor. And if someone didn't voice as much soon, she was going to do it herself.
Promises be damned.
To Eleanor's relief, Jack pointedly interrupted. "Forgive me for saying so, but I hardly think the solution to this discord lies in beating each other to a pulp. So, perhaps we could move on?"
This comment earned Jack a scathing look from both Teach and Charles. Jack was used to such looks coming from Charles, but the one being hurled at him from Teach's direction had him shifting rather uncomfortably. This unease stemmed chiefly from the fact that Jack wasn't entirely certain Teach didn't consider cheeky comments to be worthy of stray bullets. The man might be a hard one to read, but it was quite clear he held no love for Jack. Wisely, Jack decided it would probably be best not to press his luck.
"Err... What I mean to say is..." Jack continued. "Perhaps a civilized discussion might be more productive than..." Jack paused and gestured emphatically between Charles and Teach. "Whatever this is."
"Oh, really?" Teach inquired with an arch of brow. "And have you any other helpful suggestions you've an inclination to share?"
Jack narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, weighing the probability of of bloodshed should he continue with his line of thought. Teach shifted in his chair and from the corner of his eye, Jack caught sight of the way Anne subtly shifted her stance. She looked casual enough, but her eyes remained fixed upon Teach and Jack knew her well enough to know that despite her outward appearance, she'd begun anticipating a possible threat. She wouldn't outright attack Teach unless he moved on them first, but she understood that the tension in the room was high enough to warrant erring on the side of caution. And if Anne was concerned, things were definitely not going well. A bloody confrontation wasn't something they could afford right now.
In a blatant attempt to placate and avoid the shit storm that would erupt should this escalate much further, Jack opted to back down and pursue subtler approach. "Uh, no. I suppose not..."
"Good." Teach asserted with an air of superior finality.
"Mr. Rackham is correct." Madi abruptly professed, drawing the complete attention of the room. Eleanor was staring at her as though she'd only just now noticed her presence in the room.
Madi had again had quite enough of the constant dick swinging, and decided it was high time someone put a stop to it. Regal and determined, she turned to directly address Teach. The look he was giving her was less than friendly but she opted to ignore it, her voice taking on an air of calm and collected rationality. "You're here seeking vengeance, retribution against a nation that walked into your home and set it ablaze. They were foolish enough not to fear you, and now you intend to reminded them of why they should have. I understand that. I can even respect it. But you cannot deny that the likelihood of your success without our help is nil."
"The same could be said of your lot without mine." Teach countered.
"Exactly." Madi agreed. "That's my point. Is it not in your best interest to consider all your options? If I understand correctly, you are not the only person in this room harboring a strong distaste for Miss Guthrie. And yet the rest of the room has agreed to hear her out. Does whatever quarrel you have with Captain Vane and the Guthrie woman take precedence over avenging your name, your home and the men you lost there?" She asked candidly.
For a moment Teach was silent, watching Madi through narrowed and considering eyes. It wasn't entirely clear whether he was mulling over the merit of her words or preparing to tell her where she could shove all that calm rationality of hers.
But after another tense moment, Teach finally sighed and gestured to be handed the nearest bottle of rum. "No. It's not." He grumbled bitterly as Silver passed him the bottle and he sloshed some of its contents into his mug. "The woman is a cunt, but she isn't worth my reputation." He took a swig from his mug and set it down as his eye lifted to meet Madi's. "There's a good reason people fear my name. George's men seem to have forgotten that... I'm going to make sure they remember it."
Madi's only response was a curt and respectful nod, acknowledging her understanding and agreement.
"Right then, now that that's settled – " Silver began cheerfully but was cut off by Eleanor.
"I take it this place is yours, then?" Eleanor inquired, ignoring Silver and addressing Madi. She guessed, judging by the regal air about this woman, that she was the reason they'd acquired all these new bodies for their cause.
"It is." Madi stated simply, raising her chin.
Silver spoke up again. "Oh, yes. This is Madi, Scott's daughter. She's queen in this place and she's lent us her support."
The correct response to this statement should have been 'why?' Because it mattered what this woman wanted. Deals could be made and plans struck when you understood the wants and needs of your associates. Situations could be tailored in your favor when you understood a person's motives. But instead, what came out of Eleanor's mouth was a sputtered utterance of Scott's name. She trailed off before finding her words again and asked, "Where is he? Is he here? It's important I speak with him."
"You're in no position to make demands." Teach snapped.
Madi held up her hand for silence and while Teach sent her a scathing look, he reluctantly complied. A heavy silence hung in the air following Teach's words, and Eleanor's stomach filled with dread. Her eyes snapped towards Charles, who seemed to be actively avoiding her gaze.
"Charles!" Eleanor hissed, her tone full of impatient irritation and a lacing of panic.
He looked up at her then, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a firm line. "I'm sorry, Eleanor." he stated grimly.
Eleanor's stomach dropped. He couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was saying. Someone would have told her if Scott was dead. She would have been informed. It wasn't possible.
"He'd dead." Madi announced plainly. Her tone wasn't altogether cold, but it wasn't exactly gentle either. "Slaves were being used to complete the repairs on Nassau's fort. My father was helping pockets of them escape the island. Months ago, two English patrolmen happened upon him ushering a handful of slaves into a skiff destined for our village. The patrolmen opened fire and my father was wounded. The men he was helping managed to drag him aboard and bring him home to us, but his wounds were beyond helping. He lingered for a time, but ultimately succumbed to his injuries."
The pain that blossomed in her breast with Madi's words was unfathomable. How had she not been informed? How had this escaped her knowledge? The man that had been more a father to her than her own blood ever had was dead, and she hadn't even known. She hadn't been permitted a proper farewell. She hadn't been able to express to him her regret or apologize for the trust she'd betrayed in him.
She'd loved him like a father and she'd never got to tell him as much. She felt faint, nauseous. Her hand fluttered to her stomach. She swallowed, fought to regain herself knowing that this was no time to express weakness, no time to fall apart. Not when so much depended on this one meeting. Her feelings needed to be secondary. They had to be.
Despite Eleanor's lack of tears or emotional outburst, Madi must have picked up on the depth of her distress because her face softened and she added softly, "You were blessed with many years by his side. That is a gift not even his own family can claim. And from what I understand, he cared for you very deeply... Take solace in that."
Despite the guilt and sorrow still riding her, Madi's words steadied Eleanor. She was grateful for those words and the look she cast in Madi's direction said as much. There was a brief moment of understanding between the two women before Flint cleared his throat.
"With Nassau's incursion, Scott was no longer able to send this place the supplies necessary for its continued survival. A deal was struck between us and Madi's people to ensure their livelihood and freedom, and our reclaiming of Nassau. Our deal with you," Flint gestured towards Eleanor. "has already allowed us to deal a substantial blow to Rogers' forces. How is that deal going to continue to benefit us? What more have you got to offer us?"
Expectant eyes turned toward Eleanor and she instinctually straightened up, lifting her chin and standing just a little taller. Like a blow-fish puffing outward in an attempt to ward off potential enemies. "I can offer you insight into the way Rogers thinks, help anticipate his actions and reactions to whatever comes next. I also have a detailed knowledge and understanding of his stockpiles. Weapons, numbers, ships, money, all of it."
"So no specific plans, then? No intel on Rogers' future plans?" Teach asked bluntly. He sounded unimpressed and unconvinced.
Eleanor frowned. "I've given you that already. I told you Rogers' ships where coming. I gave you the when and the where and their numbers. I even handed over the specifics on their cannons and attack strategy. If that isn't enough to – "
"The Spanish." Charles interrupted. "She says they're threatening to invade England if every coin taken from that beach isn't returned in full. They know about the gold being exchanged for pearls and they've given Rogers a deadline on returning all of it."
Teach quirked a brow, his face taking on a look of mild interest as he sent Eleanor a questioning look.
"It's true." Eleanor confirmed. "That's why he was so desperate to get his hands of Rackham. We couldn't find Anne and the pearls, so we were going to try and offer up Rackham as compensation."
"We?" Teach sneered.
Eleanor had the decency to look somewhat shamed. "Yes, we. I helped ensure that a second squadron of men were sent after Rackham's carriage. We knew there was no keeping Anne from coming after Rackham, regardless of how seemingly lost that cause appeared..."
It was also the reason Charles had been captured and imprisoned. He'd almost been hung. He hadn't even been planning on putting up a fight. The though had Eleanor swallowing down a knot of guilt as her stomach churned. God, the things she would change if she could go back.
Anne scoffed from behind Eleanor, a deep scowl marring her sharp features as her lip curled up in disgust. "Bitch." She grunted.
Rackham shrugged, waving a hand through the air dismissively. It wouldn't do to get Teach all riled up again. Best to shut that topic down and move on. "That's hardly surprising. We'd already assumed you were involved in my apprehension. But this deadline Charles mentioned? That's far more interesting."
Flint laughed, the sound more grating and bitter than a laugh should be. "And wouldn't that be something? Two wars for the price of one." He lifted his drink in salute of this notion.
Silver's mouth twitched up, his expression one of thoughtful intrigue. "Yes. That would be quite the strain on England, wouldn't it? What hurts England can only help us."
Eleanor watched Silver with a wary sort of apprehension. She was well aware he was dangerous. Not so much in a physical sense, but in an intellectual one. He was a schemer, and schemers were dangerous. She ought to know, seeing as she was one.
The manner in which Silver manged to maneuver Flint and their crew was proof enough of this. The wheels were turning in his head and Eleanor got the distinct impression that he'd already begun to set his mind upon something. She wasn't entirely certain what that something was, or whether it could ultimately be beneficial to her in any way, but for now their interests seemed to be aligned. And for the time being, that would have to be good enough.
"I agree." Madi supplied. "Miss Guthrie's intel has supplied us with a remarkable victory. I see no reason not to move forward with our current arrangement. If her future assistance proves even half as constructive as it has thus far, she's an asset we cannot afford to ignore."
Silver watched Madi speak before nodding and turning his gaze toward Eleanor. "I second that opinion."
"Thank you." Eleanor supplied sturdily.
"It might be wise to hold off on that sentiment." Madi replied calmly. "While I do support your involvement in this venture, it has not escaped my attention that no one at this table trusts you. I understand there's a good reason for that."
Eleanor looked a little disgruntled, perhaps even a tad insulted, but she knew enough to hold her tongue. She crossed her arms over her chest, considering Madi with a calculating gaze. Madi certainly wasn't wrong. Eleanor had more than earned the scorn she'd received from the people seated at this table. She probably even deserved worse than what she'd gotten. But somehow that knowledge didn't prevent her from feeling defensive or bitter. Her instinct was to defend herself, to claim she'd had no choice. But she knew what little that would accomplish. So instead she opted for a cold acceptance, a blatant stating of facts. When she spoke it was with a tone void of emotion, completely deadpan. "They do."
Madi nodded, satisfied with Eleanor's open admittance of fault.
"Well good, then." Jack chirped. "That's two in favor, mine and Charles' vote makes four."
If Charles was at all bothered by Jack's assumption of his favor in the matter, he didn't show it. Instead he simply remained silent. Eleanor couldn't help but find it unnerving. He was usually quick to disagree with most anything he didn't consider his own idea. Then again, Elanor mused, perhaps he considered this to be something of his own making.
"I don't see a way around her involvement." Flint said, speaking up. "As things stand, it would be foolish to squander what she can offer us." His attention shifted toward Eleanor. "You have my vote. But you fuck this up, and I swear to Christ I'll kill you myself."
"So everyone keeps telling me..." Eleanor mumbled.
"Excellent." Jack purred, clapping his hand together and turning to address Anne, who was still standing against the wall a few feet behind Eleanor. "And what say you, love?"
Anne scoffed, sneering like he'd just asked her to dance some merry jig. "The fuck you asking me for? You already know I've agreed to follow you into this cocked up mess. What more d'ya want?"
"Quite right." Jack backpedaled, moving on quickly. His mouth twitched and his hand fluttered about as if to bat the notion right out of the air before he swiftly turned his attention back toward Teach. "And you?"
For a moment Teach said nothing. He simply sat there running his thumb back and forth across the handle of his mug, his eyes narrowed and shrewd. It was clear he didn't like the idea, but at least he seemed to be considering it.
An awkward and apprehensive silence hung in the air. Everyone knew that without Teach's influence, things would be considerably more difficult. The last thing they needed was for Teach to decide to oppose them and start some sort of internal uprising that called for Eleanor's head.
In the quiet tension of the room, Eleanor cast her eyes toward Charles. He hadn't said much throughout the entire meeting other than to issue a vague threat in Teach's direction and mention the Spanish. It was odd, considering he was usually quick to voice his opinion. Yet he'd remained relatively passive, allowing Jack to speak for him. It brought to mind another instance in which he'd allowed Jack to speak on his behalf, which in turn brought back a rush of unwarranted memories and emotion.
Are you as surprised as I am... That I'm the only one here behaving myself?
Her chest tightened. The memory seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then. At the time, it really had surprised her that he'd held his tongue for as long as he had. And when he'd pointed out his good behaviour, she hadn't been able to help feeling amused.
The terms are fine... Her word's good enough for me...
Those words had struck her, grabbed hold of something deep inside that she'd long thought buried. Those words had been significant. They meant something. Despite all she'd put him through at that point, he'd still trusted her at her word. He'd placed in her a confidence that she didn't deserve. It moved her, caressed some half-smothered part of her. It was ridiculous, but it made her want to prove he was right to trust her, that she wouldn't fail him.
That wasn't how things had ultimately turned out, but it had originally been her intent. At least, before her life had started crumbling down around her.
He'd had no reason to place any sort of faith in her. And yet he had, time and time again.
She'd betrayed that trust on more than one occasion. It was never what she'd set out to do, but it so often seemed inevitable. They spent so much time on opposing sides, it had felt so impossible. But on that day, as he'd shook her hand, he'd allowed his touch to slide across her palm and down the length of her fingers. The contact was lingering, his hand slipping from hers far more slowly than was necessary. And in that moment, something shifted between them. Something inside of her stuttered and balked.
She wasn't a romantic. She didn't fancy herself a whimsical or idealistic woman. Her heart was not one to flutter at the mere prospect of affection. But as he'd turned away from her to stalk from that room, she'd understood the risk he'd taken for her. And much to her dismay, she'd understood that decision had not been made without emotion. As was so often the case between them, their actions were far more explicit than anything that could have been said out loud.
She'd mulled over his actions for an hour or so after that. She'd tried quite hard to convince herself his decision had had nothing to do with what still lay between them. But she'd failed. She knew damn well that he'd made that deal for her. And it touched her.
Perhaps more than it should have.
After that her actions had been impulsive. She'd stalked out of that bar and marched straight into his camp with every intention of fucking him stupid. Which, to her most pleasant surprise, had been just as phenomenal as she'd remembered it being.
Afterward there had been another moment. As she'd began preparing to leave, he'd placed his hand over hers as she'd been re-clasping her corset. There had been no words, no whispered promises or explanations. He'd simply taken her hand in his, traced his thumb across her knuckles and brought their joined hands down to rest just over his heart.
For a moment, she hadn't been sure how to respond. It was sickeningly familiar, so achingly reminiscent of the life they'd shared before she'd cast him off in favor of establishing her autonomy. But as she'd glanced down at him to find him watching her with a soft look of awe and affection, the decision was made for her. Her face softened and her thumb traced gently across the skin of his chest.
No one had ever made her feel quite like he could. Even when she didn't want to. Even when she knew it was foolish. He put her at peace as often as he drove her mad.
He'd lifted his free hand to brush the hair from her face, and what little resolve she'd been clinging to fractured. She'd bent forward to press her mouth to his, her fingers grasping softly at his jaw. As she'd pressed against him, she'd wondered idly as to whether it was completely foolish to think they might be able to try again.
But almost as quickly as the thought had formed, the moment had been shattered. Max's desperate cries had torn her away from him, sent her cursing off into the camp. Whatever beautiful lies his touch had been evoking from her fled and she'd cursed her stupidity. After that she was consumed by rage, blinded by the desire for revenge.
Not unlike the way she'd felt after the death of her father, though less intense.
That sort of rage was indulgent and impulsive, dangerous. It made her careless and stupid. It was exactly the sort of thing that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She wouldn't make those mistakes again. She wouldn't be blinded by wild emotion or twisted ambitions.
Teach's voice broke through the silence then, abruptly shaking her from the memories. She came back to reality to find Charles had begun eyeing her. His expression was perturbed and curious, as though he'd tried to read her thoughts and found the content of her mind to be less than pleasing. It put her on edge. What was he stewing about now?
"Very well, the bitch stays. But mark my words..." Teach leaned forward in his chair, his expression as deadly serious as his tone was menacing. "That bitch is going to prove more trouble than she'd worth. And when she does, we'll be revisiting this little chat. I'd be willing to bet that before this thing ends, the lot of you will be wishing we'd just shot her."
Anne grumbled. "We don't already?"
Jack sent Anne a gently chiding look that clearly stated something along the lines of 'Now, now, Anne.'
Anne promptly ignored him.
"I can assure you I am well worth the effort." Eleanor snapped. "I've no intention of allowing those pretentious prats to remain on my island and I'll do what I must to ensure they are removed."
"Your island?" Teach balked, glancing about the room and arching an eyebrow that wordlessly asked, 'you see what I'm talking about?'
"Enough." Charles growled. "You've made your point. Her involvement isn't ideal but it is necessary. I'm no more fond of it than you are, but there's little to be done about it now. So, do we have a deal or not?" He asked seriously, standing from his chair and reaching his hand out toward Teach.
Teach stared hard at the offered hand before huffing out an irritated breath and clasping Charles' hand. "Yes, fine, we have a deal." Teach grumbled as they shook hands.
"Good. Now come help me convince the crews." Charles stated plainly as he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. A moment later the rest of the room followed in his wake.
As they walked through the hall, Madi leaned towards Silver and discreetly asked, "Are they always that way?"
Silver shook his head. "To my understanding, no. But Teach is still smarting over the fact that Vane chose Flint and our cause over the man who essentially raised him. Apparently the betrayal was reminiscent of a past incident involving Miss Guthrie."
"I see..." Madi muttered, nodding her understanding and mulling over the facts. "I take it she and Vane have a history, then?"
Silver chuckled and tilted his head to the side, considering the question. "I suppose you could call it that. Though I doubt there's any one word that accurately sums up that miserable cluster-fuck. Those two are about as likely to claw each other's eyes out as they are to start fucking."
Madi gave him a strange and questioning look, implying such a notion was completely foreign to her.
Silver sent her a bemused look. He liked watching her think. "Sounds healthy, doesn't it?" He asked sarcastically.
She arched a brow at that. "No, not at all."
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