#adelaide the pirate
In Irons 13 - Forced to Hurt
(Day 11 of Angstpril 2022)
Taglist:@darthsutrich,@a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101 , @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight
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Warnings: lady whumpee, blood, death mention, stabbing
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Less than a hour later, Adelaide’s boots are planted on the deck of Virginia’s Daughter, sword clutched in a sweat-slick hand, fear coursing through her veins. The good news for her is that this isn’t one of the vessels full of families, so she doesn’t have to worry about traumatizing children.
The bad news is that instead, it’s full of men with swords.
Or, it was full of men with swords. Some of them are still fighting with the pirate crew, some have been cornered and their weapons confiscated. Others now lie bleeding on the deck.
So far Adelaide has done nothing but stay out of the way, staring wide-eyed, wishing she’d stayed behind. She’s never had the chance to try out her sword fighting skills on anyone but Marshall, didn’t expect to really have to use them today, and certainly doesn’t want to actually hurt any of these innocent people.
But if she continues to just stand here she’ll be in trouble. Never mind the necklace, the Captain is likely to be angry enough with her to punish her again, too.
Even if she could convince herself that it won’t happen, it ends up that she doesn’t get a choice in the matter. Suddenly there’s a sword coming at her, and she parries automatically. The man on the other end’s eyebrows shoot up as he seems to realize that he’s attacked a woman, but it doesn’t stop him. He pulls back and swings again, and again, Adelaide blocking him each time. Her mind is fully occupied with keeping him at bay now, no time to worry about what’s going on around her or how this fight might end.
Until another two-man fight swerves near them, throwing off her focus for just long enough that she allows his sword to slide past hers, embedding itself in her left shoulder. She sucks in a sharp breath that sticks in her throat. The full force of the pain hits an instant later, nearly making her knees buckle.
The man yanks the sword back, ripping through her skin, and she stumbles forward with a cry. Immediately warm blood soaks her shirt. It burns, white hot pain dissecting her shoulder, and she tucks her arm tightly against her side, trying not to move it.
He isn’t satisfied, though. She’s still standing, and in his eyes, she’s a pirate trying to take over his ship. Technically she supposes that’s exactly what she is. She doesn’t blame him for wanting to eliminate her.
But that unfortunately means she has to keep fighting him. Keep swinging her sword with one arm while the other bleeds and feels like it might fall off at any moment. Keep risking hurting him, who doesn’t deserve it, even though the alternative seems more and more likely to be her own grievous injury or death.
She’s not really sure at this point which outcome she dreads more.
The longer the fight goes on, the harder it is to focus. Adelaide stumbles over her own feet, vision wavering, shoulder pulsing with pain, but she doesn’t give up. And somehow, thanks to the hours of training, she’s able to see the opening when it comes, using all her remaining strength to lunge forward and slash a deep line across the man’s torso.
He falls back with a cry, sword clattering to the ground. Gasping for breath, she stares in dazed horror after him, only distantly aware of the fights continuing around her, of someone scooping up his sword as he crumples to the deck, bleeding.
She won the fight. But in doing so, she’d seriously injured a man who just wanted to protect his ship, his belongings, his comrades. Her stomach churns with guilt.
A new commotion breaks out as fights end and the crew of pirates begins herding their defeated opponents to one side of the ship, while others plunge below decks to look for loot. Adelaide loses sight of the man she wounded. She herself is somehow corralled into an opposite corner, where she sheaths her sword and finally is able to press the heel of her hand into the stab wound. Her head spins at the new jolt of pain it causes. As the minutes stretch on, she finds herself sliding down without consciously deciding to sit, blinking furiously to chase away the spots that keep trying to take over her vision.
She’s…she’s very tired. That fight was more intense than anything she’s ever experienced, seems to have drained all of her energy away.
She blinks again, and everyone on deck suddenly changes to new positions. The ones from below are back, lugging crates up the stairs and across the planks back to The Dark Storm. Marshall is directing them. She should talk to him. She needs to tell him that she won her first real fight, but that she’s not sure she’s happy about that fact.
Luckily he notices her a moment later. His face creases in what could be construed as worry, and he quickly crosses to her, dodging the flow of traffic.
“Miss Gray. You’re injured.” He crouches next to her, examining her shoulder.
“I think…did I…kill him?” She never wanted to kill anyone. Didn’t want to hurt anyone at all. “He…he was bleeding. What if I killed him?”
Marshall doesn’t say anything to begin with, just stands and walks around to her other side before bending back down and grabbing her good arm to drape over his shoulders. “You did well, Miss Gray. Let’s get you back to the ship and take care of that injury.”
She thinks she makes some kind of noise when he pulls her upright. It’s hard to tell for sure when all light and sound completely cut off for a moment. But she presses her lips together after that, refusing to swoon or show pain in any way as they hobble their way off Virginia’s Daughter. She won’t give Captain Payne the satisfaction.
In Irons 12 - Blackmail
(Day 24 of Angstpril 2022)
Taglist:@darthsutrich,@a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101, @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight
Warnings:none!
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Adelaide is early to training, for once. It’s the first time she’s ever been in the store room alone, so she takes a moment to look around, peeking in and behind crates. They multiply every time The Dark Storm stops another ship. Most seem to be food stuffs and other marketable supplies like cloth and cookware. Many are nailed shut, their contents remaining a secret.
Then there is the one she manages to peek into that’s full of glittering gold bracelets and pearl necklaces, which she gapes at for a moment before pulling it shut and quickly backing away. There’s no way she’s allowing herself to be caught even looking at something of that value.
Behind it, though, something even more interesting catches her eye. It’s just a small trunk, nothing lavish, but it’s familiar. It’s hers. She’d brought it with her, on The Golden Rose, full of her own clothing and trinkets that she’d wanted to use once she was settled in her new life.
Climbing over another crate, she kneels down in front of the trunk and throws it open with eager hands. The top layer is made up of a few men’s accessories, to throw off anyone who might have looked through her things when she was disguised. Underneath, though, there’s a couple of favorite gowns, a corset, her own stockings and gloves and pockets and garters…she’s reluctant to touch, not wanting to sully them, but once she’s wiped any grime off of her hands onto her trousers, she runs her fingers delicately over the silky fabrics. It’s been so long since she’s been able to enjoy anything soft and fine.
“What are you doing?”
Marshall’s sudden intrusion makes her jump. Placing one hand over her heart, she glares with no real malice over her shoulder at him.
“These are mine. My things, that I brought from home.”
He props his arms across the crate full of jewelry and peers down at the trunk, looking away quickly and clearing his throat when he realizes what it contains. “They were your things. They belong to the Captain now.”
Now her glare isn’t so congenial, though it’s directed down at the stack of clothing, as if it personally chose to betray her. “I hatepirates.”
“I don’t blame you.”
It takes her a moment to realize she’s talking to one of said pirates. She glances up at him with a slightly apologetic expression. “You’re tolerable, at least.”
“Considering our first few interactions, I’ve no idea why. Now come on, away from the Captain’s loot before you get yourself in trouble.”
Adelaide doesn’t listen, instead digging further into the trunk. A few pieces of her own jewelry are neatly packed into boxes in the bottom, most of which she cares little about. One box, though, catches her eye, and she reaches for it with a gasp.
“This was my grandmother’s. It was given to me at my wedding.” Lifting the lid carefully, she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the pale blue sapphire still nestled safely inside.
“It must have been important to you, then.”
“Not because of my wedding,” she scoffs. “But because of my grandmother, yes, and her grandmother, also.” She’d been meant to pass it on to her own descendant, someday, though at this point that seemed unlikely. Children did not seem to be in her future, and she was mostly alright with that.
“I’m sorry.”
She stands and turns to face him, necklace still clutched in her hand, face set in a determined expression. “Why? I intend to keep it. I’m not just some girl that the Captain looted, I’m a member of the crew, and it’s mine.”
Marshall laughs aloud. “And do you see any of the rest of the crew toting around finery like that? Besides, you’re not exactly on good terms with the Captain, if you haven’t noticed. If you take that necklace from this room, you’ll be thrown overboard. If you’re lucky.”
Adelaide falters, swallowing hard. She’s never been attached to too many things in her life, but this necklace is different. She can’t just give it over to a filthy, terrible pirate, who will only sell it to someone who doesn’t care, for more money that he’ll throw away on ale.
“What if…what if I ask him? That can’t hurt, right?” Even as she says it she’s uncertain of the answer. With Captain Payne, anything can set him off, and it willhurt.
Straightening, Marshall blows out a long, loud breath through his nose. “I have no idea how he would react. He may laugh in your face and take it back, or he may…well, like I said. Punish you for taking it. I have a hard time imagining any reactions better than those.”
Tightening her jaw, she stares down at the gem in her palm, studying the delicate gold that frames it. “You’re probably right. But…I have to try.”
Mind made up, she climbs back out of the hole, pushes past Marshall, and heads up to find the Captain. It’s a rare gloomy day, grey clouds hanging heavy above, threatening rain at any moment. More importantly, though, there’s another ship ahead, barely closer than the horizon. The way The Dark Storm is moving, they’ll be upon her in no time.
Captain Payne is up top, near the wheel, eyes trained on his next prize. She almost goes back, decides to wait for another time, but then reconsiders. He’ll be in a good mood right now. It might be her best chance.
Marching straight up those stairs may be the bravest or the most foolish thing she’s ever done. The Captain nearly ignores her, barely glancing her way, but does a double-take once he realizes who’s approaching him and turns all his attention on her. It makes a shiver run down her spine. Any other time, having his attention on her would be the last thing she wanted.
“Miss Gray. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Suddenly she has no idea what to say. Swallowing hard, she opens her mouth, closes it again, second guesses her choice to come up here, then clenches the necklace harder in her fist and speaks. “I found something. Something that belongs…to me. That you’ve taken. And…I’d like it back. As a member of your crew, I…I think I should be able to retain one of my belongings from the entirety of the trunk that you now have.”
Captain Payne’s bushy grey eyebrows crawl higher and higher on his face throughout her speech, but he waits until she’s done to reply. “And what, pray tell, is this item that you claim to be yours?”
She’s reluctant to open her hand and show him. What if he snatches it away? “A necklace. A family heirloom.”
“Mm. Family heirloom. How intriguing.” He takes a step closer, cane thumping against the deck, and she barely keeps from flinching back. That cane has struck her more times than she cares to count. “Am I going to be allowed to see this trinket of…yours?”
Every clearly sarcastic word dripping with condescension that comes out of his mouth makes her want to throw him off the side of the ship, but she draws on her recent training with Marshall and allows her anger to give her the strength to stand her ground and finally produce the necklace without her hand shaking at all. He hums, leaning forward to study it.
“More than just a pretty trinket, then, hm? That piece is quite valuable. And tell me again, you think you deserve it because…?”
“Because it’s mine,” she blurts, then fumbles for something more convincing to add. “And, well…when it was taken, I was just one more person you were looting. But now I’m a crew member. Besides, there are several more pieces of value still in the trunk. I’m only asking for this one.”
The Captain stares her down for a long moment, and she refuses to look away no matter how much she wants to. Then he turns, looking out at the ship that they’re rapidly gaining on.
“You know I could have you thrown into the brig - again - for ever touching that. Tossed into the Locker, even.”
Dread curls in her throat, but she still doesn’t back down.
“But I’ll make you a bargain.” His body faces hers again, hands folded over the top of his cane. “You get to keep your family heirloom, if you can satisfactorily participate in the next raid.” He tips his head toward the ship. “That’s to say, you can’t just board the ship and stand there looking pretty. I’ve seen what you’re carrying these days.” Gesturing lightly toward the sword at her hip, his lips twist upward. “You’ll need to actually use it. Keep the people in line. Stop anyone who tries to play the hero.”
Adelaide freezes in place. Of all the places she’d expected this conversation to go, she wasn’t anticipating…that. Ever since her refusal to help that had ended in her being whipped, he’s ignored her existence when the time comes for raids. She should have known that it wouldn’t last, that eventually he’d find a way to force her compliance.
Is this the time? Can she really agree to actually act like a pirate, to potentially hurt someone, all for a necklace?
She stares down at it, sparkling in her hand, remembering her grandmother fastening it around her neck and telling her how well it matched her eyes. The woman would be highly disappointed in what her granddaughter has become, were she still alive. Not that Adelaide can blame her. She’s disappointed, too, though for entirely different reasons.
But if she doesn’t agree to this now, then what? She won’t have the necklace, and he’ll still some day force her to participate. Perhaps with an even greater cost.
“Fine.” She closes her fingers around the necklace, pulling it back in to her side. “You have a bargain.”
She’s a pirate now, anyway. Might as well act like one.
“Good.” His smile grows. “Go on and prepare with the rest of the crew, then.”
She turns to leave before his voice stops her once more. “Oh, and Miss Gray? If that necklace should…go missing without our bargain being complete? You will regret it.”
In Irons 11 - Misunderstanding
(Alt. Prompt 1 for Angstpril 2022)
Taglist:@darthsutrich,@a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101 , @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight
Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumper, implied attempted noncon, fear of noncon, mild referenced gore
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“Going to meet with Marshall again, eh?”
A ripple of chuckles runs around the bunkroom. Adelaide slows her movements momentarily, but then returns to quickly retying her boots, ignoring what is clearly a taunt. Why it’s a taunt, she hasn’t yet figured out, but everything these men say to her is meant to either insult her or get a rise out of her.
Footsteps approach, a pair of worn black boots stopping just in her line of vision. She knows it’s Jones without looking up. “Yeah, we all know all about your little, eh…visits.”
“Who knew it would be Marshall that’d end up getting what all the rest of us want?” someone else sneers from further away.
Heat rises into her cheeks, and her stomach turns. Is that what they think she and Marshall have been doing all this time? Of course it is. These men can’t possibly think she’s doing something like sword training, learning to defend herself from them. No, they apparently still have one thing only on their minds, and it makes her simultaneously sick and furious.
“Of course he did. He’s first mate. So while we get reprimanded for even trying to touch her, he gets to -”
In one, swift movement, Adelaide snatches her dagger from its scabbard at her hip and stands, placing the point of it directly underneath Jones’ chin. The look of surprise on his face nearly makes her smile. He covers it up quickly, of course, scowling back at her.
She raises her chin. “What I do is none of your concern, and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions on it to yourself.” She could dispute him on what they’re actually doing, attempt to dispel this nasty rumor, but she knows it would do no good. Shutting his mouth will satisfy her.
Jones snarls. “You think you and your little knife can stop me? Can stop us?” He gestures to the two other men in the room.
Fear threatens to turn her legs to jelly and steal away her voice, but she draws on the bit of confidence she’s gained from Marshall’s lessons and stands her ground. “I think slitting your throat would do nicely toward stopping you, yes. And I thought you were smarter than disobeying a direct order of the Captain, but…perhaps I was wrong.”
“You little minx -” He steps forward despite the knife, and it nearly works. She flinches at the movement and nearly lets him in closer, but at the last second she remembers she’s the one with the weapon. She pushes it back toward him, digging the point into the soft skin beneath his beard. He stops, glaring, but there’s a wariness behind the look, too.
His voice lowers, threatening, spit flying from his lips. “If you think that you can just keep hiding behind the Captain, you’re sorely mistaken. Trust me, I can have you without the Captain ever knowing. You’d better watch your back, miss.”
She does watch her back. Constantly. Every moment that she’s not on the upper decks, she’s afraid. His words make that choking, crawling fear even worse.
But she steels her expression, refusing to show it, refusing to back down. She knows that if he and the other two men really want, they can knock the dagger right out of her hand and do whatever they want. It’s three against one, and the one is far less experienced. They know it, too. She’s just hoping that the threat of the Captain finding out will sway them.
An eternity passes before anyone speaks again. “You’d better let her go, Jones,” one of the other men finally says. “We have to report for duty any minute.”
“Fine. I’d rather let her wait and wonder, anyway.” He gives a wicked smile as he backs away from the knife before turning to stroll out of the room.
Adelaide nearly collapses when the door shuts. She wants to curl up in the corner of the room and sob, to ask herself for the thousandth time why she’d ever left home, but she knows it would do her no good. The moment would end, eventually, she’d have to stop crying and get up and go on with this life that she was now trapped in, and all of the crying and questioning wouldn’t have made her feel any better. Or worse yet, someone would walk in and find her in the midst of her tears.
Besides, she does have a meeting with Marshall to get to, and she’s already running late.
As soon as she walks into the storage room after a tense walk through the bowels of the ship, she blurts out, “When can I begin carrying a real sword? I feel I’m ready for that now.” The dagger he’d given her helps, yes, but it’s nothing compared to the swords everyone else carries.
Marshall tilts his head to one side, studying her. “Did something happen?”
She’s shaking all over, she suddenly realizes, and she still has the knife gripped tightly in her hand. She slides it back into place a bit too aggressively. “I do not wish to talk about it.”
“Alright.” He still looks concerned, but he doesn’t push the matter any further. “Let’s see how you do today, and then we’ll discuss whether you may carry a sword. Remember, we agreed at the beginning that you had to be fully ready to fight with one before anyone else saw you with it.”
Teeth clenched, she nods tersely. “I remember. But I need to be ready now.”
“Very well.” Marshall draws his own sword, gesturing with his head toward where hers is leaning against a stack of crates. “Show me. Prove to me that you’re ready.”
He doesn’t believe in me. He thinks I’m just as weak as everyone else does. Grabbing up the sword, she dives into an attack immediately, swinging hard, barely focused on her aim past the need to hit, to be strong. Marshall deflects several in a row before spinning away and backing across the room.
“You’re angry. It’s making you sloppy.”
She grinds her teeth together and lunges after him, not bothering to correct her form at all. He deflects again, then shoves her away.
“Miss Gray -”
“Yes, I’m angry!” She attacks again, punctuating each statement with a swing of her sword. “I hate this life! I hate them, I hate this ship, I hate you for bringing me here!”
It comes out her mouth without thought, but she fumbles once she realizes what she’s said. Marshall, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed. He merely nods, sword still held ready.
“Good. It’s about time that you got angry. You deserve to feel it. And you can use that anger, you just have to pull it in and focus it.”
Hewants her to be angry? She’s never been allowed to be angry before, and it certainly has never been encouraged. Adelaide paces in a circle, emotions pounding energy through her veins and making it impossible to stand still. “I don’t know how.”
“Well, let’s get some of it out, first.” He beckons her forward with his hand. “Come. Give me your anger. Hit as hard as you need, and if you want to say what you’re angry at, do.”
She doesn’t need a second invitation to get back into fighting. It feels awkward at first to start talking again, to pour out her thoughts to this man, but after a moment the feelings bubble over into words.
“I was never supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to have to spend my life frightened, waiting to be attacked, or punished.” The more she speaks, the faster the words and her strikes become. “I’m so tired of being scared! I just wanted to get away from Charles. I wanted to have a chance to live without a man forcing himself on me, and instead, I have a dozen of them attempting it!” She chases after Marshall as he dodges her. “And I hate myself for leaving, and I hate that living with him now seems like it wasn’t that bad, and I hate that this is probably my punishment for forsaking my marriage.”
This time when he pushes her back, she stays, panting, slightly embarrassed for revealing all of her sins, but surprisingly calmer than she had been.
Marshall, thankfully, doesn’t comment on anything she’s just said. “Now that you’re not exploding, we can work on focusing it. Feel it in your center. Don’t try to suppress it, let it give you strength, but keep your head and remember the skills you’ve learned at the same time.”
Right. She can…do that, she thinks. The anger is certainly still burning inside of her, just smoldering now instead of flaming up into a wildfire. She still wants to hit something, still wants to prove herself. But her mind is clearer.
Nodding, she drops back into her ready stance, sword raised. And she waits. Steadies her breaths, slows her heart beat. Marshall has taught her to always be wary of making the first move.
He rewards her patience by making it himself. She blocks his swing, and the next, ducks under a third and skips backward to reset. By the time he’s turned around she’s charging. She bombards him with a flurry of strikes, which he can only continuously parry, stepping back each time until he’s up against a stack of crates. Just as she’s ready to pin him, though, he spins out of the way and finds his footing again in the center of the room.
If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’s…having fun. Almost smiling. She is fighting better than she ever has before, but she can’t dwell on that or she’ll lose her momentum.
Their fights have been getting longer, as she’s been able to hold out better, but this may be the longest yet. It almost feels as if they’re evenly matched for once.
He does still win, eventually, locking down her sword arm and feinting a blow to the head, but she finds she doesn’t mind at all. They’re both out of breath, but she feels like the warmth inside of her is less from anger now and more…a glow, from knowing she’s done well. She’s actually proud of herself, for once.
“I believe…” He huffs, digging the tip of his sword into the wooden floor and leaning on the hilt, “…that you are correct. You areready.”
Adelaide Face Claim
Unfortunately this is a stock photo, so I can’t credit the model.
