Juliet of Dundee

Beginnings

Juliet of Dundee Chpt. 1

Aria

The bitter smell of rum drifted through the dimly lit room of the Scarlet Maiden tavern. The smell wafted up me nostrils and sent chills down me spine.

"Awful that bitter concoction is. Drives men and women mad and to the stairs," me lied only loud enough for me friend to hear as I wiped down the rather filthy bar counter.

"Oh Aria, ya poor lass," Margaret, me closest friend, who was about two years older than meself laughed. "Ya will never get used to it, will ya?" She shook her head, her blond hair whippin' to the side.

"Not as long as the men keep comin'," me rolled me eyes. Margaret laughed again as she tossed a dirty rag over her shoulder and tucked a strand of messy blond hair behind her ear. Her brow was covered in beadlets of sweat, her eyes tired from the long and exhausting work from the day.

"Miss Margaret," a man cried from the other end of the counter, "a drink if ya please."

"Well alright Mr. Phillip. But only if the maid gets a tip!" she smiled back. She hurried to get this 'Mr. Phillip' a drink but froze as she began to pour. Her eye had caught on a man who came every evening to spy on the me; Marcus. The man was a mysterious sailor with a lustful eye. Every day he would come. Never missed one. "I don't mean to alarm ya, lass, but Marcus has returned," Margaret frowned as she returned to the bar counter.

"I noticed. . ." I scowled. Had he found out what me was hiding?

"Here, here. I'll distract him. You head to the back room."

"Again?" Margaret did this practically every day, and half the time would be caught walking down the stairs the next mornin'. I didn't want that for her; she was like a sister to me. I couldn't have her protecting me like this - as I always told her. But Margaret never took it for an answer. I hated this job more than I hated the men that came here. Why hadn't I left it yet, you ask? Margaret was the only reason. Well, besides the fact that it served as a cover.

"Oh, and be a dear and serve table five their rum."

"Table five? Why're they so special?" I asked, curiosity boiling inside me. Margaret smirked and shrugged.

"Thought one was kinda cute. Thought ya'd like him, I did," Margaret winked. I tried to smile, but the thought of Margaret protecting me once more kept hitting me hard. She gave me a smile and motioned me away; she didn't want me to see. Me heart broke right then. I just couldn't face it - and Margaret knew.

"Lord help her. . ." I prayed as I wandered off to the back room. When I reached me destination I froze. I felt a certain uneasiness and had several chills spread all over me body, the hair on the back of me neck standing up as a result.

"Who's there?" I called into the darkness. There was a pause. But I knew I wasn't alone. A warm hand suddenly slapped over me mouth and a cold steel blade was placed against me neck.

"Yer finally mine, ya wench! Tell me where the 'ealing liquid gold is!"

"Let go of me!" I shouted, but it came out muffled.

"I know you're that 'fine red of Scotland' the ditty sings of! Just tell me where you keep the vial and perhaps you'll get out of this alive. . ." The man breathed on me neck and me could smell that awful, bitter concoction a bit too much for me own comfort. That's when I knew what me had to do.

"I'll never tell ya!" I retorted.

"'En I guess I'll jus' have ta slit yer -" I reached with me free hand for me side pocket and pulled out me only small weapon, a small dirk. As the man began to dig the blade deeper into my skin, a ribbon of blood spreading on me neck, I drove the blade deep into his side. His grip loosened as he slowly crumpled to the floor. I felt no shame nor guilt as I looked to see the face of the man.

Marcus.

Me looked at him, not as nearly shocked as I thought I would be. He had been very desperate. But then me remembered something more important. If Marcus was here, then where was -

"Margaret!" I cried as I dashed out of the back room and came out behind the counter. Me eyes darted over the room and I looked to the table in which Marcus had been sitting. I stood completely still in terror. Margaret was stooped over in a chair, her face buried under her long, blond hair. "No!" I screamed as I rushed to her. Me shoved several drunks out of the way and tried to take Margaret's pulse.

But there was nothing. Nothing. Just a small droplet of blood trickling down her old, tattered yellow dress from a big, red stain on her left side. She had been killed because of me. All because of me.

I removed the vial from Margaret's neck, that she'd always worn instead of me to protect it and meself, and placed it on me neck. She had said that if anything ever happened to her she wanted me to take it back and to run, for it contained two drops of the magic golden elixir that could heal any wound; the stuff of legend.

The one wit' ya in it.

Within a second of the vial being on me neck, it gave off its gold glow. This was the stuff that everyone wanted from Emmie Monroe. But we couldn't have everyone find that out, could we?

Here I was known as Aria, a cover I had come up with to hide my other famous fake identity, Emmie Monroe. But even so, that wasn't me real name either; it was Juliet Arlington. I had left the port town of Dundee for a while with me family to set sail on the seven seas and visit the Caribbean. Let's just say that when I returned I was a completely different lassie without a family or a home. I had changed me name to Emmie Monroe on the seas, and I needed to cover the past I had now carried. So Aria just seemed to be the better option.

I spun around and dashed to the back room where there were several crates and opened one of them. The crates were supposed to have extra supplies for the tavern in case one of those awful fights was to brew. I carefully snuck out me clothing and changed into me proper dress; trousers with a bodiced blouse. I tucked me trousers into me sea-leather boots and tore off me brown wig. I whipped me red hair around and tossed it a few times. Then the finishing touch; I grabbed me sailor hat and placed it on me head, attached me cutlass' sheath to me belt strap and loaded me pistol.

"They will pay for this. . ." me sneered, complete hate washing over meself. "No one messes with Emmie Monroe. No man should ever mess with a Scott!" I marched into the middle of the main room of the tavern and shot off me pistol. People froze for a brief second then scattered, screams echoing throughout the building and streets. As everyone but the limp body of Margaret left the building, I stopped. "They're just lucky I contained meself. . ." I mumbled to the empty room.

So, in case you haven't already noticed, me is no barmaid and me is no Aria. Me is the legendary Emmie Monroe; a sea lover and a Scott. The real me? Juliet Arlington of Dundee; but let's keep that between the two of us, savvy?

Oh, and one more thing; me's a pirate.