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theladycarpathia · 1 year

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And My Waves Meet Your Shore Chapter 2: Quarter

The day after Chrissy makes her escape from Hawkins, one of the pirates knocks on her door.

She scrambles for the housecoat lent to her by Captain Munson and carefully pulls it around her before she opens it. She’d slept in her petticoat, the only piece of clothing she had that was suitable, but she’s not about to let anyone else see her in such a state. She hurriedly smooths down her hair, although she’s not entirely certain why.

The gentleman waiting for her outside is tall with curly brown hair and a rounded face. She’d seen him briefly the night before, deep in discussion with the captain. He holds out a large canvas bag and she carefully takes it.

“The captain thought you might like a change of clothes, miss,” he says, gesturing to her unexpected parcel. Chrissy feels a trickle of relief. She’d half expected to wear her heavy teal dress for another day or so. She’d feel so out of place among the pirates with their colorful waistcoats, gleaming belt buckles, and sturdy boots.

“Thank you…” Chrissy says, remembering her manners and then trails off. She doesn’t know his name. Yesterday she’d been brought aboard and taken to one of the few private rooms that are kept for higher ranking members of the crew or their paying passengers. It’s very simple - a single bed and table bolted to the floor, a hook on the back of the door. There’s a small mirror attached to the wall, and a box under the bed to store valuables. She’d immediately locked her bag away in there, well aware that it’s everything she now owns in the world.

“Gareth, miss,” he says, not at all affronted. “The Captain would like to see you for breakfast in his quarters when you’re dressed.”

There’s an excited shiver down her spine. Yesterday she’d eaten in her room, bread and cheese and meat delivered to her on a tray. Captain Munson had thought it best they be far away from Hawkins before she stepped out on deck. She hadn’t minded so much. The bread was fresh, the slices of ham were delicious and she’d laid back and listened to the crashing of the waves. She was going, she was going.

“Thank you, Gareth,” she says, because she’s still Lady Christine underneath. She could be sixty and she’d still remember how to waltz and how to use her soup spoon like a lady. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Inside a bag are several simple cotton dresses - a pale sky blue, a foamy ocean green, a bright sunflower yellow. Each one is soft and lightweight, much more suited to a life at sea than the heavy teal skirts and corset that she escaped with. She closes the door and looks over her choice, finally pulling out the green dress with the long sleeves and a delicate neckline. She pulls it on over her undergarments and carefully brushes her hair, leaving it down over her shoulders.

She did not pick this dress because she thinks Captain Munson would like it.

But her fingers still tremble when Gareth returns to escort her to the captain’s quarters.

It’s quiet when they cross the deck, only a few crew members already up and at work. The same cabin boy from yesterday mops the deck and there’s a glint up in the crow’s nest as the lookout keeps watch. What startles her is the pirate’s flag hanging from the mast, the sharp white of the crossbones against the bright blue of the sky. The Hellfire takes down the flag sailing into ports but somehow it’s still shocking to her that these men are all pirates. All she’s encountered so far is kindness and good manners.

They head down into the cabin at the stern of the ship, where the captain lives. Chrissy raises another nervous hand to her hair as Gareth raps at the door.

“Enter!” comes a voice from inside and when Gareth opens the door, she finds herself urged inside. Clearly, Gareth is not meant to join them.

When the door shuts behind her, she forgets her nerves and stares around the space in amazement. It’s an Aladdin’s cave of treasures: a mahogany jewelry box, overflowing with thick chains and large rings of silver, beautiful portraits hung on the walls, heavy looking rugs woven with gold string. There’s a large wardrobe, with elaborate carved mermaids on the doors tucked away in a corner and to the far side of the room there’s a bed, messily made, and she hurriedly turns her eyes away from it. She’s hesitant to think of the captain sleeping there, his long dark hair spread across one of the silk pillows.

There’s a grand window right in front of her, the bright morning light falling onto a dining table laid for breakfast for two. But she doesn’t see this, just the man staring out at the endless blue.

“Good morning,” Chrissy says shyly and he turns. His eyes are soft as they look her over, taking in the hair curling around her ears, the shade of green against her pale skin. She resists the urge to tug on her sleeves, wondering if she's presentable. Her shoes are the pair that she’d escaped with, teal slippers that don’t quite match, and she lacks any sort of ribbon for her hair. But when she sees him smile, she no longer minds.

“Good morning, my lady,” he says warmly. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Chrissy says, to her surprise. She hadn’t expected it, not when the sounds and smells are so different from her family’s country estate. The tang of salt in the air, the thrash of the waves against the wood, the early morning calls of the crew as they work. But she’d fallen asleep so easily, the lead weight buried in her chest suddenly lightened. “Thank you. And thank you for the dresses. I wasn’t sure what else to wear this morning.”

Captain Munson drags out a chair for her to sit in and then takes his place. Chrissy inhales the smell of fresh bread, the sweet smell of strawberries, and the rich scent of coffee. There’s too much food and she wonders if he’s made the extra effort for her sake.

“You left with so little and we have some supplies onboard,” he says, deftly removing his hat and placing it on the table. “I hope you don’t mind - I chose the dresses I thought you would like.”

“I do,” Chrissy assures him. “They’re wonderful.” She touches the soft cotton of her skirts, thinking how her mother would hate that she was wearing anything other than silk or fur or linen. Chrissy is used to petticoats and corsets, several layers of heavy material, gilt-tipped pins in her hair.

“Please help yourself,” Captain Munson says, seeing her eyes flick over the bowls of porridge and the freshly cut fruit. “I apologize for you being confined to your rooms last night. It seemed safest, just in case your betrothed happened to catch wind of your disappearance before we were fully out to sea. You said he was a merchant?”

Chrissy has to stop herself from piling her bowl of porridge too high, covering it with a fine layer of brown sugar and slices of fresh strawberries. She doesn’t protest when the captain fills her cup with steaming hot coffee.

“He is,” she says, dipping her spoon into the thick, gooey concoction. “And he often sails to other ports to trade. He has many friends along this coast, as far as Red Lake.”

“Is that so?” Captain Munson notes, filling his own plate with bread, eggs, sausage and ham. Chrissy places the spoon on her tongue and nearly swoons. This is so much better than the watery porridge that she was served at home.

“If that’s the case, I think we’d better amend the agenda,” he says thoughtfully. “I had intended for us to stop at a nearby fishing port to purchase some supplies for yourself. However, if his reach extends this far out of Hawkins then perhaps you can supply us with a list. I have a few women on my crew and they’re more than capable of fetching what you need.”

Chrissy swallows her mouthful far too quickly in her excitement and it burns all the way down her throat. But she doesn’t care. She can have soap and fresh slippers and a matching ribbon for her new dresses.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m very grateful. But won’t your crew mind?” Captain Munson snorts in amusement, and stabs at another sausage for his plate. Somehow the large quantities of food he’d served himself have already decreased at an impressive speed.

“Far from it. The men usually get the fun jobs of going into town to trade, especially in less savory places like Driscoll. They’ll be delighted to wander around the local shops to gather what you need. After you’ve eaten, I’ll find you some paper and a pencil.”

“Thank you, Captain Munson,” she says again, wondering if she’s able to say anything else and he smiles. When her stomach churns, she tells herself that it’s just the porridge.

“Edward,” he corrects. “Or Eddie, if your manners permit you.”

“Edward,” she says, trying out the name on her tongue. The look he gives her when she says his name is just as sweet as the fruit on her plate.

XXX

He’s true to his word and brings her paper as soon as the plates have been cleared away. She twirls the quill between her fingers and considers what might be the priority items. She’s not used to having to use what possessions to have, not when she’s been given every single whim her heart ever desired. But she’s quick and thorough, choosing the necessary amenities that will see her through a brief life on the ship.

Captain Munson looks over her note briefly and nods, tucking it away in a breast pocket.

“I’ll give this to the ladies,” he says, and offers her an arm to escort her. They’re mere miles up the coast from Hawkins and she’ll have to stay on board when the ship docks for a while. This close to her former home, there will be plenty of people who might recognise her. It’s a risk that they can’t take.

“How did you come to have women on board?” Chrissy asks curiously, settling her arm neatly into his as though she’s done it all of her life. “I thought pirates viewed female sailors as bad luck.” Eddie chuckles.

“I view these two as bad luck, although not because they’re women,” he says dryly. “You’ll understand when you meet them. Robin, in particular, is always getting me into a world of trouble. The girl’s mouth runs a mile a minute, often without her brain in tow.”

“I look forward to meeting them,” Chrissy says, a little delighted that she will have company during her journey. She’s so used to the presence of other women around her. Nancy and Barbara have been her friends since their debutante days. Carol and Tina making little jokes at the dinner table, Heidi bemoaning Lord Harrington’s lack of interest in having a space on her dance card. She is used to perfume and chatter, talking to each other from behind their fans.

She misses Nancy more than she can say, the lack of her friend feeling like a gaping wound in her side. Nancy has always been there, even after she wed a local boy. When Chrissy went to her for help, she and Jonathan had immediately offered a plan and their aid.

On deck, there is a clamor of activity already and Chrissy looks around with interest. A young lad with dark hair and a pale face pauses in mopping the deck to make way for Chrissy and Eddie to pass. There’s a figure up in the crow’s nest, a spyglass pressed to his eye, watching for danger on the horizon. Even pirate ships are never truly safe on the seas, fearing ambush from a rival crew or being spotted by the royal navy. The Hellfire are cautious, taking care to lower their flag when they’re near any proper civilisation.

Captain Munson takes her down the stairs to the dining area and Chrissy immediately spots a young woman with short, red hair, wearing a pirate’s bandana around her neck. She has a pretty, elfin face, with a small nose and a rosebud mouth. To her shock and delight, Chrissy spots that the girl is wearing trousers, like the men do, in a fading blue color, fraying around the ankles. The shirt she wears is a man’s - tied instead of buttoned at the waist - as are the sturdy pair of boots and she sloshes water over them as she mops.

“Vickie!” Edward calls and the girl looks up. “Come meet our guest.”

“More strays, Cap?” she asks cheekily, as she takes Chrissy in. Edward fondly rolls his eyes at her and Chrissy feels a low prickle of jealousy in her gut. She hadn’t considered the ramifications of other women being on the ship. But when she sees Edward ruffle Vickie’s hair, the shards of envy fade away. Clearly, their relationship is not a romantic one.

“This is our paying guest,” Edward corrects her. “This is…Christine Cunningham. She’s sailing for a new life further up the coast and we have the honor of taking her.” He’s missed off her title for a purpose, she realizes. Better to not make a fuss of nobility fleeing her home. Young women strike out to seek their fortunes every day…just not ladies of Chrissy’s rank.

“Hello,” Vickie says cheerfully and extends her hand. Startled, Chrissy takes it.

“Hello,” Chrissy says shyly. There’s a clatter behind them and a loud bang, followed by some words Chrissy only ever heard from the men by the servants’ entrance.

“That is Robin,” Edward informs her helpfully. “And you can see why she gets me into trouble more often than not.” Vickie playfully swipes at his arm.

“She’s not that bad,” she protests, as another young woman emerges from the swing door of the galley, caked in flour. She wears a similar outfit - beige trousers, a loose red shirt, her dirty blonde hair pulled back from her face with yet another bandana, and absolutely all of it covered in a thin layer of white. She stops dead when she sees the Captain. “That was not my fault, Cap,” she says immediately, brushing off her hands into clouds of fine white dust. Vickie sighs heavily, as it settles onto a previously clean patch of floor.

“Whose fault was it?” Edward asks, but his face is immeasurably fond. He clearly loves these women, enough for him to ignore any disapproval of their place on board the ship. “That wretched cat for not doing his job,” Robin grumbles and her face is sheepish when she spots the mess that she’s made, a winding trail of flour following her footsteps all the way from the kitchen. “We have mice again.”

“It’s not Larry’s fault,” Vickie insists immediately, folding her arms across her chest.

“Given that Larry is meant to be a pirate cat and his only job is to catch mice, he’s certainly failing at it,” Edward sighs. “Ladies, I actually did have a job in mind for you, if you are done bickering and making a mess of my ship?”

“Oh?” Robin asks, and Chrissy can see her eyes flick inquisitively over her. She wasn’t seen by many of the crew when she arrived yesterday, and she was settled in a guest cabin almost immediately. “How’s that, Cap?”

“Miss Cunningham here left home quite suddenly and is in need of a few items,” Edward explains. “I thought perhaps that you both might be interested in going ashore to retrieve them for her?” Vickie drops the mop in her excitement, all mentions of flour forgotten.

“Really?” she asks, exchanging a gleeful look with Robin. Eddie pulls Chrissy’s list from his pocket with two fingers and dangles it in front of the two girls.

“Really,” he says and then tugs it away again before Vickie can grab it. “But I want all of this cleaned up! And you must take someone with you. Driscoll isn’t a safe town. Have Fred or Argyle go with you.” Robin immediately pouts.

“Why have us go at all, if you’re having us chaperoned?” she complains, but she takes the offered list anyway.

“Because I don’t trust one of the men to fetch the correct items for Miss Cunningham,” Edward`says, perhaps entirely correctly. Chrissy has asked for undergarments, beauty products, and several hair ribbons. She’s not sure what one of these men would bring back for her, save for a barrel of ale.

Vickie flicks her eyes eagerly over the list. Robin wanders up behind and peers over her shoulder.

“Should be simple enough,” Vickie says, with a nod. She tucks the paper away into her trouser pocket and Chrissy marvels at the concept. Women wearing trousers. Pockets. As lovely as her new gown is, it lacks pockets.

Edward digs in his coat and pulls out a small velvet bag that clinks. Chrissy grips at his arm and he smirks.

“Don’t make that face at me,” he says, of her indignant expression. “I will not hear of it.”

“I’m supposed to pay my way!” she says furiously, because she suspected from the moment that she stepped on the ship that he was undercharging her. She does not want to be pitied or coddled just because she’s had a sheltered life.

“I’m sure we can arrange another method of compensation,” he says easily. “There’s always work to be done on a ship. Cooking, cleaning, sewing. Vickie and Robin can help you.” She scowls at him. Tasks that she doesn’t know how to do, tasks she was not allowed to do. Simple things that she will need to learn to survive.

“Did you plan this?” she asks suspiciously. There’s a glint in his eyes before he slides his arm away from her’s. She feels a momentary sense of loss before he gently raises her hand to his lips.

The brush of his mouth against her bare skin is enough to make her knees want to buckle. For a split second when his lips brush gossamer soft against her knuckles her entire world narrows down to the instant where she can feel him. So far, his only touches have been proper and gentlemanly, taking her arm and reaching out to steady her. This is something else and the hunger that claws its way out of her belly is only just successfully pushed back down below her rib-cage.

“I’m a pirate, Miss Cunningham,” he says, his eyes light, and her heart skitters furiously.

“Chrissy,” she corrects him. But he’s right - he’s a pirate and she should remember that.

He just smiles at her in that incredibly attractive and infuriating way and nods to the women, before leaving. Chrissy listens to his boots disappear up the steps and wonders if her face is as hot as she suspects that it is.

When she turns to look at Robin and Vickie, their faces tell her everything.

“What should I do?” Chrissy asks, self-consciously pressing a hand against her burning cheek. She’s never felt like that with a man before, ever. She’s had plenty of men kiss her hand in her time out in society. Lord Harrington has kissed her hand plenty, as has Duke Hagan. Mr Byers, Nancy’s new husband, has once or twice, and Jason in more recent months.

“Go upstairs and take a dunk in the ocean to cool off,” Robin says bluntly and Vickie neatly steps on her foot.

“It’s fine,” Vickie says hurriedly. “Don’t embarrass her!” Robin shrugs and runs a hand through her hair, shedding more white dust down onto the floor.

“Well, she should,” Robin continues calmly. “She looks as though she might need it. Or she can come stand in this mop bucket.”

“Ignore her,” Vickie says, throwing an annoyed look at Robin as she vanishes back through the doors into the kitchen. “I think she’s a little stunned. We’ve never seen Cap act like that with a woman before.”

“Really?” Chrissy asks, unable to stop the excitement rising in her voice. Vickie shrugs and picks up her mop again.

“Not really,” she says, dunking the mop into the dark bucket of water. “There was a bar wench a year back, I think? Very briefly while we were docked for a job.”

Chrissy watches the sloshing over the water over the floorboards rather than think about Edward and the tavern girl.

“It was a very long time ago,” Vickie says, seeing her face. She offers Chrissy the handle of the mop. “Here. You can get to grips with the basics of mopping before we arrive at Driscoll.”

Chrissy makes a mess of mopping while Vickie sweeps up Robin’s stray trail of flour. Where the woman herself has gone, Chrissy doesn’t know.

“So how did you come to book passage with us?” Vickie asks politely and Chrissy tightens her hands around her mop. She’s glad that Vickie’s face is turned away so that she can’t see Chrissy’s obvious indecision. She’s not used to lying.

“My family,” she says instead, opting for the half-truth. “They had plans for me. Expectations.” Vickie snorts.

“None of which aligned with your actual plans for your life?” she asks.

“No,” Chrissy agrees. “So I just…decided that it would be best to leave. Start fresh.”

“Well,” Vickie says, neatly chasing the flour that has crept into the corners. “If it helps, you’re not the only one. Robin and I…we don’t have the best relationships with our families. Or any relationship at all, really.” Chrissy can’t miss the dark note of bitterness coloring Vickie’s tone.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Chrissy says and then frowns as she forgets to wring out the mop again. But Vickie shrugs - whatever estrangement she has is merely a fact of life to her now, something that settles over her like a familiar, worn old coat. Chrissy wonders if she will feel like that in a few years, wondering about her parents, her brother. She feels a twinge at the thought of Andrew but she pushes it away. He’s heir, so he’ll have no shortage of opportunities and a suitable marriage when the time comes.

“Sometimes, the people who love us only think of the things that are best for themselves,” Vickie says pragmatically and lifts her head up as the kitchen door creaks on its hinges. “There you are!”

Robin emerges, free of the smears of white that had caked her chest and head, her face washed clean. She looks over Chrissy’s sloppy mopping but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she runs her fingers through her hair, looking pleased.

“I cleaned up,” she says. Vickie shakes her head and rests her chin on her mop. There’s an achingly fond smile on her face and there’s something about the softness of it that feels familiar.

“You left us with the flour out here though!” she admonishes. “I just hope that the kitchen is clean for dinner. Help Chrissy with that mop.”

But before Robin can move, there’s a shout from overheard and a sudden clamor. It means nothing to Chrissy but both girls suddenly look delighted. Vickie leans her broom against the wall and gestures to Chrissy in excitement.

“We’re arrived!” she says, and indicates that Chrissy should leave her task. “Come see!”

Chrissy looks hesitantly at her work and then agrees. Hopefully, Edward will not see the wet clumps before she returns.

They pile up the stairs into the glare of the sunshine and find the deck in a flurry of activity. Chrissy watches with amazement at the men rushing back and forth, pulling on ropes, and shouting to each other. She follows Vickie and Robin to the rail and leans over to see Driscoll come into view.

Captain Munson is at the helm, his hand resting on the beautiful carved wheel. She watches the feather in his hat rippling in the wind and thinks that she’s never seen him look so at ease. He belongs on this ship, in a way that she used to fit in a crowded ballroom.

There’s a dim ache in her chest that she refuses to look at too closely, so she turns her head away towards the promising gleam of shore.

XXX

Chrissy changes into a sunny yellow gown for her first meal with the crew. Old habits are hard to break, after all.

The dining area is as loud as the very tavern where she first met Edward, the constant chatter and laughter, the familiar clank of tankards. She sticks close to Vickie and Robin as they lead her to the hatch where they retrieve full bowls and mugs. Chrissy wobbles slightly as she follows them back to a table with her tray. She’s managed to keep her grace so far on board, even managing to control the nausea that comes with the constant rocking of the ship.

The table they sit down at is at the back of the room, much smaller than the large tables that hold the men. Chrissy puts down her tray before she takes her seat and hopes that the waves don’t become too choppy.

They’re not alone, as the crew picked up another female passenger in Driscoll. She’s already sitting down, dunking her spoon into her bowl, roughly cut dark hair falling into her eyes.

“Thank you for getting those things for me,” Chrissy says gratefully, even though she’s already profusely thanked both of them. Spread across her small bunk are the assorted items that the girls had delivered to her this afternoon. To her delight, they’d successfully retrieved everything she’d asked for. A new bar of soap, a comb, some rouge, assorted undergarments, a nightshirt, hair ribbons and a new pair of slippers.

But Robin just waves off her gratitude. “Not at all. It was good to get off the ship for a while. Cap never lets us do the fun stuff.”

“She means the dangerous stuff,” Vickie says wryly, reaching for the water jug. “There are a few female pirates but they’re lethal. I suppose they have to be.”

“I didn’t know there were any,” Chrissy says, a little surprised. Robin shrugs. She’s still wearing the same red shirt and trousers that she’d had on earlier but Vickie has changed into a sage green dress, the color suiting her red hair.

“I only really know of two,” she admits. “And they’re deadlier and more ruthless than most male pirates. It’s the only way they’d be taken seriously. Eddie can afford to be a little amiable but any woman in this business would be called soft if they did what he does. Speaking of...” Robin licks her spoon clean and jabs it at the door. Chrissy twists in her seat and, to her shock, spots a familiar figure striding in the door.

“He’s not like the other captains,” Robin says, spotting Chrissy’s wide eyes. “He won’t hide in his quarters away from us. There aren’t any other captains who’d have us aboard anyway. Eddie’s special.”

Chrissy hides her face by raising her mug for a sip that she doesn’t even want. She’s been beginning to suspect as much herself.

She watches Eddie stride through the room and tries to smother her nerves as he gets closer. He pats a young man on the back, makes a quick comment to another and then pauses as he reaches their table. He looks hesitant when he sees her, and it’s the first time he’s ever looked truly uncertain. This is her first night as part of the ship and it’s almost as though he’s thrown by it.

“Cap?” Robin asks, pausing in the middle of her bowl. It’s some sort of seafood stew, hot and thick with tomatoes and Chrissy - who is used to bland vegetables, watery potatoes, and delicate cuts of chicken - has enjoyed it far more than she expected to.

“May I join you ladies?” he asks, and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Their small table is exclusively women - the three of them, and Eden Bingham that they picked up in Driscoll.

“Of course,” Vickie says, when everyone else is too stunned to speak. She shifts a few bowls over, earning herself a dirty look from Eden when she nearly tips the young woman’s water glass right over.

“Thank you,” Edward says, easing himself down into one of the spare chairs. He removes his hat and politely drops it into his lap. Chrissy pulls her arms into her body, suddenly afraid that she might reach out, overcome with the urge to graze his hand.

“What brings you here, Cap?” Robin asks and shrugs when Vickie shoots her a look. “I can ask! It’s allowed, isn’t it?” Edward chuckles, and accepts the bowl that’s been brought to him by another crew member. Chrissy has had little opportunity to learn their names. She recognises Jeff and Gareth, Edward’s first mates and his right hand men, who are often by his side. Both have been unfailingly polite to her and she has to wonder if they behave this way with all guests or whether it’s at the Captain’s request.

“I thought I’d come and see how our new guests are settling in,” he says and judging by Robin’s raised eyebrows, this isn’t something that she believes.

“Because you’re so usually interested in our paying customers?” she says pointedly and there’s a brief scuffle under the table as Vickie tries to tread on her friend’s foot. This appears to be a common occurrence.

“I can be,” Edward says and there’s a distinct edge to his tone, something that causes Robin to pick up her spoon once more. “Miss Bingham, Miss Cunningham, are you well?” Chrissy mutely nods. Eden shrugs and places a small bite of bread on her tongue. Their new traveling companion is far from chatty, with dark hair and matching eyes set into a pale face.

“We’ll drop you in Montmouth in a few days' time,'' Edward says to her, clearly not bothered by the less than social attitude of their passenger. Chrissy is a little unsure of how or why Eden came to be on the Hellfire but she supposes that it’s Eden’s business, given her own lies.

“Sure,” Eden says easily, and she’s the one least phased by the Captain’s appearance to dine with them.

“And Miss Cunningham…?” Edward says hesitantly and Chrissy accidentally drops her spoon back into her bowl.

“Yes?” she says, hurriedly checking that no flecks of bright red have made it onto her dress.

“I know that you didn’t have a destination in mind but I may have found a place for you,” Edward says. “Vickie here has some family up south, in a little town named Frostproof. It’s fairly quiet, without a particularly large or busy port. There’s a train station nearby and you could go anywhere you want.”

Back in Hawkins, Chrissy would have adored the sound of that. Miles up the coast, and able to climb onto a train to go anywhere she wanted, starting anew. But she catches the tension at the corner of his mouth and thinks that he dislikes this suggestion as much as she does. She can go anywhere…but it will only take her farther away from him. “I have cousins I still send letters to,” Vickie says, perhaps not noticing the sudden and strange atmosphere. Chrissy stares into her bowl rather than at Edward. She’s known him for two days. She can’t be considering changing her plans for a man that she only just met.

“I’ll write to them to let them know that we’re coming,” Vickie continues and reaches for her butter knife. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to let you stay with them until you’re on your feet.”

“Thank you,” Chrissy says quietly. It’s a huge imposition and she should be grateful for the effort that everyone is going to on her behalf. She twirls her spoon in her bowl, suddenly no longer hungry.

“We’ll take care until we’re further up the coast,” Edward says. “And I trust that both of you will show them where to go should we run into any trouble?” He looks pointedly at Robin and Vickie. Robin swallows her mouthful and looks indignant.

“We’ll show them tomorrow, Cap,” and Edward gives her a look.

“You’ll show them tonight, in case we are boarded before dawn,” he says mildly and Eden visibly brightens.

“Are you often attacked by other pirates?” she asks curiously. Robin scoffs.

“Hardly,” she says disdainfully. “Not with a reputation like the Hellfire.” Edward takes pity on Eden and leans in to explain.

“Not often,” he says, to Chrissy’s great relief. She’s not sure she finds a pirate siege quite as exciting as Eden does. “We have a large ship and a full crew, with plenty of weapons to fight back. Only someone foolish would think to try and board us.” Eden deflates.

“Are there any ships who would be able to take the ship?” She pushes and neither she nor Chrissy miss the wary glance exchanged between the three members of the Hellfire. “There’s one,” Robin admits reluctantly. “We’ve never encountered them personally. A jet black ship, manned by the devil himself.”

“He’s not actually a devil!” Vickie protests, although the change of topic has left her looking uneasy. “But…he might be the closest thing there is to one.”

“They say he was a lord once,” Edward adds. “With a grand manor and many carriages and more money than half of England.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asks, curious despite herself. She catches sight of Eden leaning forward in her chair too, equally intrigued.

“People say he lost his mind,” Robin says, with a shrug. “Went half mad and vanished off the face of the Earth, reappearing several years later as the cruel and feared captain of the Chronos. But if you ask me, the change wasn’t all that sudden or unexpected.”

“Henry Creel’s family were all murdered when he was young,” Edward says, scraping his spoon around his bowl. “Mother, father, young sister, grandfather, an aunt…all butchered in their home. Some say that his father was still sitting in his chair clutching his spoon, waiting for his morning porridge.”

“The culprit was never caught,” Robin continues and Eden’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Their new companion is no pirate but she certainly has strange, bloodthirsty tastes. “Henry was the only one who survived. Out riding, so he claims,” she says, pointedly tapping her nose. “Bit convenient, if you ask me.”

“All rumors,” Edward says, catching sight of Chrissy’s face. “But…Henry was notorious even before the murders. He was an odd fellow, so I gathered. Too fascinated by the occult. He kept cages of large, poisonous spiders.”

“And now he’s a pirate,” Eden breathes. “Have you ever encountered him?”

“No,” Edward says coolly, dropping his spoon back into his bowl, every bit of stew devoured. “Not face to face. I’ve seen the devastation he’s left behind. Ships blown to bits, bodies left in the water, everything pillaged and ransacked. I am responsible for the safety of my crew and I will not take any risk that Henry Creel will ever have the slightest chance to board us.”

“Which is why should there ever be a chance that we’re about to be boarded, we have a place to hide,” Vickie says, pushing away her own empty bowl. “It’s a hidey hole down below in the storage area and can’t be found unless you know where to look. We’ve had to use it once before, not long after we joined the crew.” “If there’s any trouble at all, that is where you go,” Edward says, firmly, looking between Eden and Chrissy. “Anything at all. Captain Creel aside, there are still plenty of dangers out there. That may be the life that we signed up for but I’m aware that my passengers did not.”

The conversation becomes lighter after that, returning to upcoming stops, the chores list, necessary supplies. Eden quietly eats her portion of fruit and doesn’t join in again until the meal is over.

Very briefly, when most of the crew have vanished back to their various duties, Chrissy notices how Vickie’s arm rests so easily against Robin’s, the inevitable closeness of their bodies as they lean in to talk to each other. It’s not much but it reminds her of how new young couples used to look in dark corners of the ballrooms. The reason why both women left their homes for a pirate ship becomes startlingly clear.

Finally, when Chrissy feels herself begin to yawn, Vickie rests a hand on her shoulder, indicating that she and Eden should come quickly to see the bolthole for them to hide in. It appears that their captain doesn’t give too many orders but when he does, they are to be immediately obeyed.

“Good night, Miss Cunningham,” Edward says and Chrissy pauses.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she says, and follows Vickie out.

XXX

“Who’s the girl?” Jeff asks curiously, once Chrissy’s long red hair has vanished out of the door. Eddie has joined his usual table and it appears that his meal with the women has not gone unnoticed.

“A passenger,” Eddie says briefly. Most of his crew have drifted away back to their regular duties, or to play card games down below. Even so, he’s not willing to divulge Lady Cunningham’s real identity. “She joined us at Hawkins. Approached me in the Hawk and Dog yesterday. She was willing to pay.”

Jeff raises an eyebrow and reaches for his tankard. Judging by the flush to their cheeks, it may be one drink of ale too many this evening.

“You never normally sit with the passengers,” he points out, his tone deliberately casual. Eddie catches sight of Gareth’s smirk into his bowl.

He’d known that it would draw attention but somehow he’d been unable to resist the urge to be near her. She only has a limited time aboard and Eddie wants to make the most of it. Because before he knows it, she’ll be gone and the only one left to remember that she was even here will be himself. The sea, the floorboards of the Hellfire, even the crew…they’ll all forget after some time. He won’t. Some experiences - some people - carve themselves into your heart that way the ocean wears away at the cliffs.

“Well, I have done today,” Eddie retorts frostily. He reaches out to the bowl in the middle of the table. He’ll finish his meal in his cabin. He palms an orange and shoves it in a coat pocket.

“I thought we were going to discuss that job?” Jeff asks mildly but Eddie stands anyway.

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says. He’s in no mood to discuss work tonight. Every time he has to leave her, he finds himself at a strange sort of unease, like an itch under his skin was soothed without him even realizing it.

He stalks back to his quarters and shuts the door. He half wonders if he’d made a mistake but even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows that he didn’t. He never could have left her there in the Hawk and Dog, destined to marry someone she doesn’t love. But he’s going to have to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t purely goodness or out of pity that persuaded him to bring her on board the ship.

He drops down into a chair, looking out of the window across the dark sea. He loves nights like these, where the ocean meets the sky in the same stormy blue. He digs the orange out of his pocket and carefully peels it, very aware that only this morning Chrissy had sat in this chair.

Seeing her eat with the crew this evening had provoked the same sort of feeling in his chest. A strange wistfulness that comes with knowing something isn’t permanent. And he’s about to have three weeks of that same feeling, three long weeks until they reach the balmy southern waters of Frostproof.

Eddie places a section of orange into his mouth. He should be thinking of work, because that’s what his role requires. He’s responsible for every soul, to make sure that they stay fed and well armed, that they have enough to keep sailing. There’s trades to be made, cleaning to get done, the occasional threat made in a public enough place to keep his reputation alive and well. He doesn’t have time to sit and think about the curve of her cheek, the strands of ribbon in her brilliant hair, the expression on her face as she’d first seen the Hellfire.

But as the moon climbs higher in the sky, that is all he does.

#hellcheer #edissy #any my waves meet your shore #hellcheer fic #pirate hellcheer au fic #pirate au #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #there will be a delay to chapter 3 #while I finish posting empty places #au: historical #au: fantasy #pirate captain eddie #society lady chrissy #robin buckley #vickie #henry creel

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aftgficrec · 7 months

Note

ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU?????

We have quite a lot for you, including some renison. -A

***NB: Some of these fics include human trafficking, extreme cruelty, and other dark themes. We’ve added an extra caution notice above the darkest ones, but please note all of the trigger warnings provided here and by the authors.***

also see

arranged marriage aus here

arranged marriage aus 2 here

arranged marriage aus 3 here

some a/b/o fics with promised/forced mates

‘as though nothing could fall’ here

‘Eyes Half Closed’ and ‘Ghosts That We Knew’ (completed) here

‘Still Human’ here

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Pride & Prejudice aus here

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tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: homophobia, tw: alcohol

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Neil's father is a cruel lord known as The Butcher. When his father forces him to marry, Neil's expectations are low and his understanding of sex and what it means to be in a relationship is even lower. But slowly, as he gets to know his new husband, he begins to see that there is a future worth fighting for. Andrew has only ever been able to rely on himself. When he's sold to The Butcher and forced to marry his son, he's more alone than ever. But as he begins to trust and find safety in his new husband, he learns that being alone is more dangerous than relying on someone, and freedom isn't what he thought it would be.

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tw: dark, tw: human trafficking, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: violence, tw: drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape, tw: dubcon, tw: panic attacks, tw: assault, tw: blood, tw: eating disorders, tw: self harm

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tw: dark, tw: forced mates, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: rape, tw: forced prostitution, tw: abuse, tw: child abuse and neglect, tw: forced pregnancy, tw: mpreg, tw: miscarriage, tw: abortion discussion, tw: major character injury, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: nonconsensual kissing, tw: attempted sexual assault, tw: gun violence

Renison

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Already in her mid 20s, Allison Reynolds is too old to be unmarried. This is London in 1910. But Allison wants more. Will the events of one fateful encounter at a Votes For Women march, change her life forever? She hopes so.

tw: violence, tw: classism, tw: sexism

NB: art prompt by @punchsomeoneforme-willyou here

Vanilla Twilight by Flowerparrish [Rated M, 8449 Words, Complete, AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2022, Locked]

Renee’s hand against Allison’s is warm and soft as always, but this time, it’s more. The touch sends electric jolts through Allison, fissions of awareness that feel like when magic settles into her bones. And yet she is aware, is certain, that Renee is casting no magic now to produce this effect. Why would she need to, when Renee’s simple presence, her existence alone, is all the magic Allison could ever desire? // a medieval fantasy au

NB: art prompt by @adverbialstarlight here

Art

Royal AU sketches, the king and queen, and the royal wedding by @emry-stars-art

Renison medieval au art by @kitshunette

riko and nathaniel art by @requiemofkings

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