Hello I'm sorry for being gone so long.
But here, take my gift to you. Chapter 4.
Oh, and just a warning: this fic won't really be following the plot of the game. Maybe in one or two parts, but for the most part, it's all stuff I'm pulling out of my ass. K bye.
As Fiona watched Charles storming off, his entire body tense with rage, Brianne swept her inside the cabin and shut the door. She gently pushed Fiona to sit on the bed while she grabbed a cloth and wiped the small streak of blood above her eyebrow. Blinking, Fiona gritted her teeth as Brianne brushed over a bruise.
"Sorry," Brianne said, but Fiona waved it off.
"Not your fault," she assured her. Brianne's eyes were filled with sorrow.
"How did this happen?" she asked.
"It's as we said. I went to find Charles on his ship, but some pigs on his crew were waiting for me. I was outnumbered," she said, the memory sickening her.
Brianne growled.
"Fucking cowards," she hissed. "Did they…?"
Once again, the unspoken question dangled in the air. Fiona hated that question.
"No," she replied. "Charles got there first and stopped them."
Brianne peeled back Charles' coat from Fiona's body, leaving her naked.
They'd seen each other naked before. They were sisters, it didn't matter to them. But in this moment, Fiona felt so exposed, so delicate and vulnerable, she covered herself with her hands. Brianne gingerly moved her hands away.
"I just want to see the bruises, Fiona," she said. "It won't take long, I promise."
Fiona nodded, knowing she shouldn't be scared. Brianne would never hurt her. Never.
Her sister's hands trailed gently across her ribs, likely checking for anything broken. Fiona would have known if anything was broken. It would have been hurting like hell. But all she felt was the dull aching from the punching and her torn pride.
Satisfied, Brianne stepped away and grabbed some clothes for Fiona. As she dressed in the simple gray blouse and deep burgundy trousers, she felt her shame and fear slowly leaving her, being replaced by fury and a deep want for revenge. She buckled her belts and strapped her pistols to her person. She slipped her sword into its holster and made for the door.
"Where are you going?" Brianne said, alarmed. "You should stay here, at least for tonight."
"I'm going to find those cowards and teach them that I'm not to be messed with," Fiona said, and opened the door to leave. Brianne stopped her again.
"Do I already need to remind you of what just happened, Fiona?" she said crossly. "Don't be stupid, let Charles take care of his own shitty crew."
Fiona whipped around, eyes burning.
"Of course you don't need to remind me! It happened to me," she yelled. "But that's why I'm going to deal with this trash myself."
Brianne, taken aback, backed away. Fiona immediately regretted her harsh tone. She had done nothing to deserve Fiona's rage.
"I'm sorry, Brianne, but I'm not a child anymore," she said, taking her sister's hand in her own. "If I'm going to be taken seriously, I can't hide on my ship while a man acts for me."
Brianne was silent for a while, but nodded, looking away.
"Just...be careful. Please," she begged. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Fiona."
Looking into her sister's eyes, she saw fear and worry in her blue eyes. She took Brianne's hands in her own and smiled reassuringly.
"I'll be careful, Brianne. I promise. Last time I was unarmed…" Fiona tapped her sword and pistols. "...but I'm prepared this time."
Fiona stepped off the deck of the Banshee onto the docks, her steps sure and strong. She had always been fast to recover from an ordeal, whether it was a physical wound or an emotional one.
Brianne watched her go, blinking away the tears that she felt forming. Her sister's wild blonde mane flowed in the cool night winds, brushing against Charles' coat.
For so long, she had seen Fiona as her younger sister. Someone she needed to shelter and protect.
But now, watching her march off to exact her revenge on those who wronged her...Brianne saw her blossoming as the capable woman she was.
Her baby sister wasn't so baby anymore.
Charles stood on the sand, looking down at the small droplets of blood that could have only come from the louse whose nose he'd broken. He felt nothing but pride, looking at those tiny red stains. He hoped it hurt.
But he was going to be hurting even more when he found him.
The small vermillion dots lead an obvious trail along the beach. He followed it, taking care not to step on any in case he should need to backtrack.
The path was partially washed away by the tide as it swayed back and forth in the moonlight, but he realized it led to The Old Avery, the local tavern.
The fact that he could hear the groans and pathetic whimpering of pain from there was a dead give away. He stormed up the stairs and sure enough, there was the man, broken nose and all, blood covering the front of his shirt. To his surprise, Edward sat with him, a sympathetic look on his face, looking on as a barmaid gently dabbed the blood from his face.
He could hear him telling Edward about how 'Charles struck him with no reason at all'. Horse shit.
He didn't care much about his crew, not enough to know them by name. But he knew enough about them to realize that this particular man was dumber than a bag of rocks and feared him more than anything at this moment, and he could possibly find out the whereabouts of the others from him.
Charles stomped forward. Edward stood to greet him, but Charles ignored him completely. He shoved the barmaid aside, disregarding her shrill voice. He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, and with all his might, he hauled the man into the air and shoved him against the wall of the tavern.
"Vane, put him down!" Edward shouted from behind him, but of course he didn't listen. He had some questions.
"Where are the rest of them?" Charles snarled, moving his face so it was just inches away from the other man's. Close enough to smell the stink of booze on his breath. When he got no answer, Charles reeled his arm back and sent it flying forward, straight onto his already broken nose.
The man howled in pain, and he could feel Edward and some other man pulling at his arms trying to get him off, but he threw their hands away.
"Where are they!?" Charles roared again. The man whined pitifully, not saying anything. Charles rolled his eyes.
"Vane, control your fucking temper!" This time, Benjamin spoke. Charles rolled his eyes.
"Stay out of this, Ben, it's got nothin' to do with you."
Immediately, Charles turned his attention back to the bleeding man.
"What little patience I have is wearing very thin, maggot," he said, voice dangerously low. "Tell me where the other men are or I'll introduce my fist with your nose again."
The man's blood dribbled from his mouth, and as he opened his mouth to reply, Charles could see one or two gaps where teeth had been knocked out.
"I-I can't tell you...where they are. I don't know…"
"Then give me their fucking names!" he hissed. Charles moved his hand to pinch the bridge of his snapped nose, and the man screamed.
"I only remember one!" he shrieked in pain. "I only remember the one, his name is Colin!"
"Which one of the crew is he?" Charles said, still furious, but glad he was finally getting some answers.
"Sat up in the crow's nest!"
Letting go of the man, Charles stood. He knew the damned man, this Colin. He was a known womanizer, which could be said for any pirate, in truth, but it was especially true for him. Had a way with words and was quick to charm the lasses.
He'd probably be at a bordello somewhere.
"Should have just came out with it, mate," Charles said, giving him a final kick to the stomach before flying down the stairs. Edward and Benjamin followed.
"Charles!" Edward called out, "What the hell was that all about?"
"I ain't got the time to tell," he replied. Nor did he want to tell, to be honest. But he had a feeling they wouldn't let up, and he was right.
"Vane!" Edward yelled, "tell me what's going on!"
Charles growled in frustration, but whipped around, intending to make his explanation as vague and quick as possible.
"You remember Fiona?" he said, addressing the question to both or either men. Edward nodded.
"Course we do," Benjamin said, a sick smirk on his face. No doubt thinking about his Fiona in ways that only Charles should be allowed to.
"She and I…" he trailed off. The implications were obvious, and both men caught on right away. Edward didn't seem too surprised. The first time he'd met Fiona, they had been flirting a bit with each other right in front of him. It was Benjamin that seemed shocked by this new information.
"You?" he said incredulously, "And her?"
"Yes," Charles said.
"Fiona...and you?" he said, apparently finding it hard to believe.
"Yes!" Charles said, seething. Benjamin shook his head as if trying to shake off a headache.
"You mean to tell me that out of all the men that pretty lass could have had, she picked you?"
Fucking hell.
"What, your pride hurt, Ben?" Charles snapped. "Mad that even though you made a move, she and I'd been screwin' around long before?"
Benjamin furrowed his eyebrows.
"Long before?" he said. "How long have you been...seeing her, exactly?"
Charles thought back to when he'd first made the mistake - sweet, brilliant mistake - of attacking her ship. He thought of those amazing hours they'd spent in her cabin, taking pleasure in each other's bodies.
"A week," he said, shrugging. It was a guess at best.
"Christ, Vane," Benjamin said. "How'd someone like you manage to-"
"Now hold on," Edward interrupted, "This is all well and good, but this tells us nothing about what just happened at the tavern. What's this all got to do with Fiona?"
Charles was hesitant to answer. He didn't want whatever information he gave them to paint Fiona in a bad light. He didn't understand exactly how it could. It wasn't like she asked for it to happen.
But they lived in a time that was not kind to women. Not kind at all.
He knew that they would not give up if he simply told them to fuck off, though. He sighed, relenting.
"Not too long ago, she went looking for me on my ship," he said. "I wasn't there. Some of my crew was, and they…" he stopped, his anger overflowing. "They ambushed her."
"Christ…" Benjamin said, face somber. "Did they…"
"No, I showed up before they could."
"And so now you're going after the men?" Edward said. Charles nodded.
Benjamin chuckled.
"Now I don't feel so bad for that whelp back there," he said.
"Well, now I'll be on my way," Charles said, beginning to leave, but Edward called out.
"Let us help," he said simply, hand near his sword. Charles frowned and shook his head.
"No. But if you happen to find him, by all means, help by bringing him to me" he said. "I want to kill this bastard myself."
Stepping lightly and minding Charles' long coat, Fiona stood inside Nassau's largest and cheapest bordello.
The place reeked of heavy perfumes, tobacco, and sex. It was almost enough to make her sick, but not quite. Through the flimsy walls, she could hear the fake, exaggerated moans of the prostitutes. She hated places like this.
Strolling up to the madame of the establishment, she greeted her courteously.
The madame was older than her by around twenty years, perhaps a bit more, if she had to guess. She was busty and redheaded, with lips that matched her bright locks and kohl smeared around her blue eyes.
"Evening, ma'am," she said, "My name is Fiona and I'm looking for someone."
The madame looked up from counting a small pile of coins, raising her brows. Perhaps she was just surprised to see a woman in her bordello.
"And who says I know where this someone is?" The woman said cheekily. Tapping a finger on some of the coins in her hand, Fiona understood she was subtly hinting that she'd be silent unless some money was slipped her way.
Ah yes, she should have seen this coming. No matter.
"Just a moment," Fiona said, making a point to pretend to search for a coin purse in Charles' coat. She gripped the mahogany handle of her flintlock. She didn't plan on shooting anyone. Just intimidating them.
Bringing her pistol out from the coat and into plain view, she pointed it at the madame, finger ready on the trigger. She let the heavy instrument land on the stand, a quiet thunk coming from the contact.
"I believe this should please you?" Fiona said sweetly with an innocent smile. She inwardly laughed as the madame squeaked and gulped.
"Y-yes, that is sufficient," the madame said, her voice shaking. Fiona put her pistol away. She had no problem with this woman or her employees. She just knew he was here.
She had been doing some searching as well. She'd found one of the other men that attacked her, and after a moment of hesitation, she performed an extremely short interrogation and was told that she would find the man she'd begun to call Alpha here.
The rat was scared off by Charles only to slink away to find some other poor cunt to abuse.
"I'm looking for a man. I was told he's here," Fiona said. "Brown eyes, black hair down to here," she continued, holding her hand just above her chin to indicate how long his hair was.
The madame's eye sparkled mischievously.
"Ah, an unfaithful husband? I understand, miss."
Fiona blinked. She thought…
Well, she may as well play along.
"Yes," Fiona sighed. "That damn husband of mine just cannot seem to keep his hand off other women...and I've just had enough of that."
The madame nodded knowingly.
"Men, eh?" she shook her head. Fiona lowered her pistol. "Very well. Only one man fitting your description has been here tonight. Up the stairs, fourth door on your left. They are still...in business."
It didn't matter to Fiona that he was still in the middle of fucking a whore. She wasn't going to sit and wait for him to be done.
Nodding to the madame, Fiona made her way up the stairs. Following the instructions she was given, she walked down the hall, listening to the revolting wailing of one of the whores and the creaking of beds; the snoring of old men and the cursing of the whore left unsatisfied, as was often the case in these exchanges.
Her feet stopped at the fourth door on her left. A long groaning seeped into her ears, and she instantly recognized the voice of her assailant. She shuddered, but hearing his voice only solidified her will.
Without wasting another moment, she raised her leg into the air and swiftly kicked the door down.
The whore screamed, moving to cover herself, until she noticed the intruder was a woman. Alpha froze, still inside of her. He squinted in the poorly lit room, but seemed to recognize her face.
Good. He'd better.
He smirked at her, laughing.
"Changed your mind about me, eh?" he said cockily. "Knew you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me once you'd seen sense."
Fiona resisted the urge to retch. She stepped closer and Alpha only got friendlier, but she just swung her pistol through the air, catching the side of his face with it and sending him tumbling off the bed. The whore squealed.
"Hush," Fiona said soothingly to her. "I'm just here for him, not you."
Fiona had the utmost respect for prostitutes and dancers. It was not easy to be a woman on this Earth. From birth the odds are against you, and the men make that abundantly clear. To survive, a woman does what she must.
She stomped on Alpha's fingers, hearing one snap underneath her heel. He screamed, moving to gently cradle his now broken finger to his chest, but Fiona did not give him the chance. Yanking him to his feet by the hair, she half led, half dragged him to the doorway.
Before she left, she dug through the pocket of Charles' coat and removed a few dozen coins, placing them on the bed next to the prostitute.
"For your trouble."
It was Charles' money she'd just given away, and for a moment she felt bad, but she could pay him back later.
For now, she had to pay this fool back for his actions.
"Come, dear husband," she said in a mocking tone, "Let's go home."
Alpha whined as Fiona dragged him out of the bordello buck naked and headed for the beach, the sun beginning to rise already.
Charles had scoured the island everywhere, searching for Colin. He'd checked every whorehouse, every tavern, every ship, even looked in the forests.
No sign of that piece of shit anywhere.
"Fuck, Nassau isn't that big of an island. There's only so many places the bastard could hide!" he said under his breath.
The sun had been up for near an hour now, and though Charles was determined to find Colin, he could feel his body beginning to tire. He'd been up all night searching Nassau for him, and he was exhausted. God, he was so exhausted.
Yawning, he silently decided to sleep, and continue his search when he woke again.
Trudging his feet along the dirt path, he wondered how Fiona was dealing. Was she asleep, feeling safe in her cabin? Was she still awake, too scared of what may happen to let herself rest?
The thought made him go cold. If anything happened to her, he wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself.
As he made his way back to his ship, a small gathering of people on the beach caught his eye. He heard some whispers from the crowd, hearing "woman" most often. The people obstructed his view.
His heart stopped beating, and he feared the worst. Hurrying over to the crowd, he pushed the people aside, steeling himself for what he feared was Fiona's dead body and her blood seeping into the sand.
What he saw was quite the opposite.
There was Colin, blindfolded, gagged, and kneeling with his hands tied behind his back. He was completely naked, his cock hanging limp between his legs. Standing beside him with her fist full of his ebony hair was Fiona, looking proud and furious and confident in his coat.
She held her flintlock in hand. He waited patiently to see what she would do.
Fiona leaned down slightly, holding the barrel of her pistol up to his groin. Colin stiffened, sobbing pitifully through the cloth in his mouth. She pressed her lips against his ear, but spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear.
"Are you sorry for what you tried to do?" she purred in his ear, almost seductively. Colin nodded rapidly, whimpering with fear.
Fiona tisked, shaking her head.
"I don't think these people heard you," she said gently. Jerking his head back by the hair, she raised her voice. "Tell these lovely folks you're sorry for what you tried to do to me."
Colin did his best, saying "I'm sorry" over and over again. It was muffled by the gag in his mouth, but he desperately tried.
For a moment, Fiona seemed satisfied. She loosened her grip on his scalp and patted his head soothingly.
"There's a good boy," she cooed, and his breathing slowed down. He was letting his guard down, and Charles had a feeling that something awful was about to happen. Fiona scowled, though Colin couldn't see it.
"Too bad apologies cannot change the past," she hummed almost happily, and aiming for his cock once more, she pulled the trigger of her pistol.
The women in the crowd screamed, and a few fainted. Charles, along with every man in the audience, flinched, and some defensively clutched at their own crotches as Colin's genitals were blown off in a mess of ichor and blood. He howled beneath the cloth in his mouth, tears pouring from behind the blindfold. Fiona let go of his hair, allowing him to drop to the sand as he writhed in absolute agony. She stared down at him, undeterred by the mess she had created.
"Clear off!" she shouted, and the crowd feared her enough to do so. They scrambled to get as far away from this madwoman as possible, and it didn't take long before the beach was empty of everyone who wasn't her, Charles, or Colin.
Fiona stared down, refusing to look away as the man at her feet rapidly paled from blood loss, and soon enough, he stopped squirming in the sand and went deathly still.
Colin was no more.
She lifted her gaze upward, and seemed surprised to see Charles there. Running a hand through her golden locks awkwardly, she looked away from him.
"I hadn't meant for you to see that, Charles," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a gentle spring breeze. She slithered out of his coat and hastily handed it to him. He took the coat, and no sooner had it left her fingers had she turned and began walking down the shore. Charles, of course, gave chase.
"Fiona," he said, easily catching up with her. He could feel a mixture of emotions. Relief that she was safe. Pride of her handling Colin so fearsomely. Anger that she had left the safety of her cabin so soon. When she did not stop walking, he repeated himself.
"Fiona!" he said again, louder. She stopped, shaking.
"What?" she said exasperatedly.
"You should have let me handle him," he scolded her. "You should have stayed in your cabin where it was safe."
Fiona rounded on him, brown eyes blazing with a fire he'd never seen in her before.
"You think I can't handle myself?" she hissed. "You think I'm too delicate and feminine to do this?"
"That's not what I-"
"If I am ever going to be taken seriously, Charles, I cannot sit back while a man does my work for me," she said, repeating what she had told Brianne earlier. "If I don't want to be a joke, if I want to be feared...I had to do that myself."
"Fiona-"
"I can do bad by myself! I can get my hands dirty! I do not need your help."
Charles was fuming at that.
"Don't need my help?" he shouted. "If I hadn't been there, those men would have had their way with you. If I hadn't shown up right when I did, that is what would have happened, Fiona, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it."
"I may have needed your help then," Fiona growled, "but mark my words, Charles, I will never make that mistake again."
She turned away, as her voice began to tremble, betraying her. Despite their short but heated argument, Charles could feel himself softening for her. She may not wish to admit it, but she was still just as scared as she was before.
Pulling her closer, he dipped his head down and their lips met. She returned the kiss softly.
"I just don't want you getting hurt, Fiona," he said, voice barely above a mumble. She looked up at him shyly, smiling. "I'm just trying to protect you."
"And that's fine, but I can at least try to protect myself, too."
Fiona stood on her toes to kiss him again, and she sighed when he obliged. She stroked his cheek, loving the way his facial hair felt underneath her soft fingers, and she loved the way his hands felt holding her closely. She broke the kiss.
"Come on," she said with a small yawn. "I feel like I'm ready to sleep for days."
Charles chuckled, nodding. As they made their way to his ship again, ready to turn in and sleep, he thought to himself.
He really was going soft.
Woops sorry it took forever.
Lmao bye.