#3wr

It was a day like any other, as most tales from the waves tend to go. The sun was hot, blisteringly so. There was not a cloud in the bright blue tropical sky. The waves were calm, the keel of The Marauder slid through them like a hot knife in butter. Many of the men were joking around on deck, keeping an eye on their work whilst enjoying their time. If there was one rule aboard The Marauder, it was to make the most out of life. 

A day like any other, until word reached the ears of the commander that a ship had been spotted in the distance. The faithful lookout, who some of the crew often rumoured had the eyes of a wolf, clambered down the rigging from the crow’s nest to head straight to the commander. And it wasn’t just any ship, he had mentioned. It was a royal gunship, loaded with cannons aplenty and crownsguard to boot. 

Never a ship to back down from a challenge, the crew of The Marauder prepared themselves to fight. She was not a small vessel, their beloved ship, but she certainly paled in comparison to one built for transporting royalty, allowing protection and safe passage for a travelling noble. However, The Marauder and her crew had an advantage. They were smart. 

The black flag bearing the image of a skull above two crossed antlers from a stag was lowered and instead a ripped and shredded Gryffindor national flag was hoisted. One member of the crew stood at the bow, waving a white flag. 

Of course, being a respectable royal vessel, the gunship manoeuvred to sail alongside The Marauder. The small ship was boarded by concerned soldiers wishing to aid decent merchants that had clearly just been ravaged by pirates. Naturally as soon as they stepped on board, blood spilled onto the deck. The pirates had the upper hand, it was almost as though they had been invited aboard. It was a well planned and even more well executed attack.

While highly trained, the crownsguard were not well equipped to handle a sudden and unexpected boarding of pirates. Had The Marauder fired her cannons onto the gunship, she would have been obliterated within minutes. But the captain of The Marauder was clever, and had considered every detail. The Gryffindor royals were known for taking pity on merchants during their tyrannical movement to rid the waters of those opposing their crown. So of course they would instruct their crew to stop and assist those in ‘need’.

The plan had paid off, the gunship had acted exactly as intended and it wasn’t long at all before many of the crownsguard were tied up aboard their own ship. Crewmembers of The Marauder plundered the vessel, discovering riches and jewels. But the prize above any other was a living, breathing member of the royal family. The heir destined to take the throne. 

Naturally the remaining crownsguard were given a ransom note to return to Gryffindor and the King and Queen whilst their beloved child was stowed away below deck aboard The Marauder. Then, arms and pockets full of treasures and loot, the pirates departed, leaving the magnificent ship stranded in the middle of the ocean with no captain and no ‘precious cargo’ to boot. 

For being a royal, the heir to the throne certainly put up a fuss. There was much yelling - though that was soon dealt with via a harsh scrap of fabric being shoved between lips and teeth - plus kicking and struggling against rough rope bonds. 

But one against an entire crew of vicious pirates would never work out in anyone’s favour. So the precious royal was tied to a chair in the hold of the ship while the more superior members of the crew stood back and observed. 

The commander of the ship stepped forwards, eyeing up the beautiful silks and careful preening of the person sitting before him. “My my…” He smirked, his voice almost a sneer as he walked in a long slow circle around the temporary chair-shaped prison that held the pirates’ newest booty. “You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” 

The rough fabric that smelt of stale sweat and salt was tugged from its horrible place between lips, allowing the voice of royalty to finally speak aboard The Marauder. Never before had a voice of such notoriety and high birth ever been heard between the wooden walls of the hold, nor on the deck. “Fuck you.” 

“Oho!” The commander laughed, his sharp grey eyes glinting with a twisted kind of pleasure. “Such ugly words for a pretty royal. You must understand, your highness, you’re our prisoner. And prisoners who are nice and polite to their captors tend to fare better in their situations than those that are rude and who curse. We may be the kind of people you call pirates, but even we have more manners than you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Hair, that was probably once perfectly styled and was now a bird’s nest atop the head of the captive, shifted as the head that it was attached to shook. “You don’t understand, that ransom note you sent my ship with is pointless. My parents hate your kind, they would never pay to get me back, they are far too proud to sink low enough to pay a bounty. Besides, they know I don’t want to rule the kingdom, if I do I shall have to marry into another family to maintain peace between the nations. I’ve been trying to find a way to run for a while. So instead of just killing me, how about I join you? I’d be a good addition to your crew, I can fight, I’m not afraid of dying.”

Silence lay steadily against the creaking wood of the ship. The crew present dared not respond to such a claim from the mouth of someone so respected back in Gryffindor. Even the commander had stilled in his steady circling of the chair. Only one person in the room made a movement, made a sound. 

A solitary figure, concealed by the shadows at the base of the steps that led down from the deck to the hold rose from their seated position. The air around the crew held a reverence for this person, their face concealed thanks to a carefully tilted hat. A hat only worn by one member of a crew. 

The commander stepped back into line, his head bowed as this new figure stepped forwards, still just hidden in the shadows.

“Captain…” 

Hazel met green, the figure’s face lifting just enough to reveal the glint of their eyes and a telling smirk on their lips. 

“How can we trust you to not betray us?” 

Hazel eyes widened in shock, a mouth dropping as realisation and surprise hit all at once. 

“You’re a girl?”

The captain laughed, a soft gentle tinkering laugh that seemed so out of place on a fearsome and cruel ship such as this one.

Captain Lily Evans pulled the hat from her head, letting her long red hair fall around her shoulder in windswept curls. 

“Woman.” 

With a flash, her cutlass was unsheathed from her hip and the golden handle was colliding with the side of Prince James of Gryffindor’s head, knocking him out cold. 

---

James

“Oh look, he’s waking up, Captain.” 

With a deep groan, James’ eyes peeled open. There was a dull throbbing feeling on the side of his head and his vision was blurred. The room he was in, wherever he was, seemed to be moving. There was a horrible churning sensation in his stomach as the room bobbed up and down. Not that he could see much of it. 

Prince James Potter, crown prince and future King of the kingdom of Gryffindor, accomplished swordsman, rumoured ladies man and esteemed member of the royal court only seemed to have one flaw to those that didn’t know him. He was cursed with his father’s unfortunate plight of being blind as a bat. So he had suffered from a young age with the awful task of wearing spectacles. “Glasses,” the court physician, Horace, had proclaimed as though he were claiming ‘Eureka!’ to some exotic new discovery rather than handing the prince two glass lenses held together by a thin twisted wire, “I call them glasses!”

But now, in this tumultuous room gods knew where, James found himself surprisingly glasses-less. Oh how he wished Horace were here now to ease the now pounding throb that beat against the side of his skull with every traitorous heart beat against his ribs. And, not knowing where he was, his heart was beating faster than usual, much thanks to the fear swirling in the pit of his stomach. Fear and nausea. 

Coming back to his senses was a slog. His mind was hazy, his head sore, his body tired. His hand rose from its previously limp position by his side on the uncomfortably hard bed to rest against his unnaturally warm forehead. Another moan slipped from his lips as he struggled to push himself to a seating position, his hand now roaming around him to look for his glasses. 

Instead of finding the expected cold metal frames, his hand landed upon warm skin. A hand that didn’t belong to him pushed his spectacles into his palm and James hurried to tuck them onto his face. 

A woman swam into view as he blinked a few times to adjust to the gift of sight once again. If James wasn’t so aware of the reputation of the captain of The Marauder, perhaps he might have even registered how beautiful she was. Pale skin that was merely sunkissed from the scorching tropical rays, rather than burnt or tanned. Thousands upon thousands of freckles dotted such perfect skin, each small brown mark adding together to make constellations across her nose. And then there were her eyes. Shining and deep emerald green irises, speckled with notes of gold that made him feel warm under the heat of her gaze. Her eyes themselves were like an ocean, an ocean James would be more than willing to drown in. 

Which, given his current situation, was actually quite likely. 

“If you won’t put me to work, at least make my death a quick one.” James said quickly as he angled his body away from hers. He hated himself for enjoying the smirk that graced her lips, hated the way his stomach lurched as another tinkering laugh burst from between them.

“Please, your highness, do you really consider me to be so cruel?”

“I’ve heard of you, Captain Evans, of this ship. Tales of The Marauder made it to the ears of my kingdom, of the crew that would pillage and plunder and leave few remaining to tell the tale.” James said. “I know you can be that cruel.”

“Well, one always likes to make an impression.” Captain Evans smirked again, leaning a little closer to him in her chair. Her hair swung down in front of her and her movement had allowed her billowing white blouse to open slightly, giving James a wonderful view of her cleavage. He really had to fight to maintain eye contact with the captain. “Naturally you understand why I am hesitant to accept your proposition, my kind and yours don’t tend to mix. Water and oil.” 

That was fair enough, the royals would hardly ever wish to consort with pirates. But James was different, he always had been. He wanted out. 

“I know that there’s little I can say that will convince you of my loyalty, my parents are… They are less than sympathetic to your ideals.” James explained slowly, continuing to look her dead in the eye. “But I am not my parents. I hate the royal life, I hate the thought of spending my future chained to a throne and to the hand of a woman I do not love. I mean, be honest, Evans, do I look like I belong in a court?”

She sat back at that, her eyebrow raised. One of her - good lord - leather-clad legs crossed over the other as she leaned against the back of her chair, her eyes appraising him. A finger, embellished with a heavy jewelled ring that was likely stolen from the hand of a dead man, tapped against the wooden frame of her chair. 

“You are betrothed then?” She asked after a few moments of her eyes roaming over his form. 

“What makes you assume that?” He responded, probably too quickly and harshly based on the way her eyes widened slightly. 

“Well, of all the things you just mentioned to me, the part you seem most bitter about is the idea of not marrying for love and instead for the supposed good of the kingdom. So please, indulge me, your highness.” She smiled again, her hand sweeping her long red hair behind her. 

“Yes. You are correct.” James sighed, finally breaking their gaze as his eyes dropped to his hands which now rested atop the blankets that covered his lap. “I am supposed to marry a princess whom I have yet to meet. In fact, the reason I was travelling these oceans, I was… I was heading to our engagement ceremony.”

Evans laughed again, her head tipping back. “Oh, your highness, how painfully fortunate you are that you sailed right into our path.” 

“So…” His eyes shot back to hers again, his mouth suddenly feeling rather dry. “So you’ll allow me to join your crew?”

“Oh, you’ll have to prove yourself to my men,” she responded, “they won’t take kindly to you, many of them have been hounding my lieutenant to murder you in your sleep. We’re not the biggest fans of royalty as I’m sure you are aware. However, I know what it is like to run from expectations, to want a life different to the one you were dealt at birth. Well, I certainly wasn’t born into a life of piracy, was I?”

Her smile was intoxicating, wide and bright. He couldn’t help but smile back as the two of them stared at each other, neither one willing to break the gaze. 

“How do I prove myself then, Captain?”

“Easy, your highness,” Evans grinned, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, “you’re going to face my lieutenant in a fight. You beat him, then you face me. And believe me, I won’t go easy on you.” 

---

Lily

The jeering of the crew was loud as the two men circled each other on the desk. Both had stripped down to just their breeches, baring their skin to the hot tropical sun. Lily tilted her head to the side from her seat on the steps leading down from the upper deck, her eyes roaming over the prince’s chest. He was fit, she’d give him that. His skin was a deep brown that glistened with a light sheen of sweat in the heat. She knew he would be toned, princes often were due to the intensive training they received in order to prove themselves to the kingdom. 

Her lieutenant, Sirius Black, was an excellent fighter when armed with a blade. He had been close to a master in the art of fencing when the two of them had met, when Lily had still been posing under the guise of a young lad wishing to find his way in the world aboard a different captain’s ship. He was a close friend and an excellent second-in-command. He called the orders and organised the crew while Lily worked behind the scenes on garnering her reputation, creating a name for the fearsome Captain Evans who ruled the seas. A captain most would assume was male. With Sirius by her side, the image of The Marauder was set in stone. 

Explicit rules had been set for the duel on the deck of the ship. No killing. First blood won. Blades could only superficially mar the skin, Lily was unwilling to lose a single member of her crew to something as trivial as entertainment. A contest did not have to end in the loss of a life, skill alone could be determined merely through watching, death was not the answer in her eyes. 

A particularly loud jeer from one of the men appeared to spur the prince on and his blade glinted silver under the sunlight as he slashed towards Sirius, who expertly dodged and stepped out of the way. “You’ll have to do better than that, your highness.” Sirius said mockingly, taking a swing of his own at the prince. But much to everyone (except perhaps Lily’s) surprise, the prince was also skilled enough to avoid the cut of the sword. Instead, steel clashed together, the sound of metal on metal ringing out across the deck.

The fight was on. Finally.

A jab here. A swipe there. Both men panting from exertion as they moved around each other, their battle an elegant but dangerous dance. On and on it went, the sun beating down on all of the people gathered on the deck of the ship. 

It seemed that Sirius had found an equal, someone just as skilled as he in the art of fencing. And Prince James had technique most of the men aboard The Marauder would never have seen before. He had obviously been trained by the best of the best, his choice of movements delicately decided to best counter his opponents. 

A small cry of pain broke the battle, the two men growing to a halt. Everyone turned to witness the captain as she rose from her seat on the steps, walking down and into the circle that had gathered around the makeshift battle grounds on the wooden deck. Her eyes were narrowed as she surveyed the two warriors, the green of them drifting from the heaving chests to the small trail of blood that ran down an arm. Blood that matched that on the blade of the prince. 

“Congratulations, your highness.” She said, not needing to raise her voice to be heard. The crew were silent, watching, waiting. Eager to see what came next. “You bested Mr Black. But… He was only one obstacle. Now…” and her hands tugged at the heavy coat she wore, pulling it from her body and tossing it into the arms of one of her crew. It was soon followed by her hat and her hair was pulled back from her face and tied with an old piece of black ribbon. “Now, you fight me.” 

---

James

The elation that had coursed through James at managing to nick his opponent vanished as soon as Evans drew her sword from its sheath. He knew she had won the position of captain somehow, but he expected that it was from her quick mind and wit rather than her skill in the sword. How could she be better than him? She was small, slight and… Well, loathe him to be so misogynistic but she was a woman. He was the crown prince of Gryffindor, he had to beat her. 

Her lieutenant, Black she had called him, his injured arm freshly wrapped with a bandage to prevent further bleeding, had risen once more. “The same rules apply. No killing, no aid. Skill on skill alone will determine the winner. Don’t underestimate her, your highness.” 

James barely had time to nod at Black before a flash of red and silver came flying at him. He lifted his blade just in time to meet the captain’s halfway. She was fiery, fierce, a whirlwind of energy and sheer terror. He was already exhausted from his previous fight, his whole body screamed at him to rest. All that James could do to hold her off was block her attacks, his stance turning into one of defence. 

Her attacks were an onslaught of what appeared to be pent up rage, her teeth bared and her eyes dark as she advanced on him with hit after hit. Black had been right, James shouldn’t have underestimated this woman. He understood now why she held her crew in such reverence every time she stepped foot on deck. This woman… She was every inch the fearsome pirate captain her name’s reputation had sung about. 

He wouldn’t beat her, he couldn’t. And not because he didn’t want to. He did, with every fibre of his being he wanted to sink to his knees before her and pledge himself to succumb to her every whim, her every command. He knew he would do anything she asked of him. She dominated the mere ground she walked on, who was he to be considered royalty in the place of such a goddess. 

Pain seared through his side as his defence faltered, her blade had made it past his barrier. Blood trickled down his ribs, the wound left in her wake shallow enough to not cause worry, but big enough to cause pain. He dropped in front of her, his knees colliding against the hard wood of the deck. His hands scrambled to press against the wound, his eyes screwed up against the pain. 

If the crew had been loud before, now they sounded like a clap of thunder as they roared for their captain’s victory. Jeers had turned into cheers of jubilation. And James lifted his head and opened his eyes to see his defeat. 

The sun blazed behind her, her red hair shining like a golden halo around her head. Most of it had slipped from the ribbon, fluttering in the sea breeze. 

“Congratulations, your highness.” Evans spoke in a low voice as her coat was once again draped over her shoulders. “Mr Black and Mr Lupin will assign you to your quarters. Now, what is your last name so we know what to call you? You’re not a prince here any longer, not as one of my crew.” 

“Potter.” James responded, his teeth gritted against the pain though a smile of victory won over his lips. “James Potter.”