Special Nights.

Chapter One: Daydreams.

Hey, so this is my first story about a game character.

I will warn you again, just to be safe, that this story WILL have spoilers from Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.

With that said, here's the story!!
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The sun was hot, beaming its rays down onto the small island as if it were trying to set it on fire. The sand near the beach was glimmering, cooling slightly as the ocean waves lazily spilled into its territory.

Cheer-filled songs could be heard in the distance, telling tales of cold nights out at sea.

Joan walked forward quickly, almost in a run as she gripped the bottom of her lilac colored dress.

She could see the small tavern coming into view, laughter and music loud enough to be heard across the seas emitting from it. With a few more rushed steps, she was soon standing near the old, mossy door. She pushed it open, welcoming the cool shade as she wiped some sweat from her forehead.

Joan pulled up the front of her dress, mainly so that she wouldn't dirty the expensive fabric more so than it already was, and walked slowly towards the counter. She smiled at the common customers and nodded at those who were new.

Joan slowly sidestepped a young gentlemen who was laughing wildly with another, not wanting to disturb the happy man. It wasn't all the often that happy men came here: usually it was just those who were trying to sit in their own self-pity with a drink to help coax the feelings.

Grinning sheepishly at the lady who owned the tavern, a kind women named Katherine who was in her late thirties, Joan walked behind the counter and tied a leather apron around her body. As she looked up from having tied the string around her waist, Joan's eyes met those of Katherine's, who was now standing in front of Joan with her eyebrows raised.

"And why's it that you're late?" Katherine asked, crossing her arms.

Joan felt herself grin as she saw the light upturn of Katherine's lips. The women may have been her boss, but no matter what she was never all that rough on Joan.

"Apologies, Katherine," Joan grabbed a mug out of a waiting hand, filling it up with ale as she continued, "I got 'eld up by some mangy gulls. Won't 'appen again."

Katherine simply rolled her eyes, a full smile breaking onto her face. "Sure, keep tellin' me that. Perhaps one day it'll be true, eh?" With that being said, the burly women turned and began talking to people and refilling their drinks.

Joan chuckled to herself, walking to the man on the opposite side of the counter. He had his head tilted downward slightly, his eyes skimming a pocket watch with the picture of a lass and little lad shoved in the cover.

"What'll it be there, mate?" She asked, watching as the man immediately shut the watch and turned to look up at her.

He let out a small cough. "Rum, please."

Joan have him a small smile, before taking his cup and filling it to the brim. The alcohol's foul smell made her stomach turn, but it was not nearly as bad as it had been on her first night working. Joan felt herself smile at the memory.

She had just been cut loose, Katherine having believe that it was easier to learn on the job, and she felt like a tiny puppy. The bar was filled completely, men yelling for more alcohol from every which way, some louder than others.

She got to her first drinker, a young pirate who asked for some of the "good stuff", which of course could only mean the expensive rum. She rushed back to the counter, looking to one of the other barmaids for help as she told her what it was she needed.

The moment the cork came out of the bottle, the rancid smell of hard liquor hit Joan; hard. She shoved the bottle into the lady's hand, pushing through the people and out the door. She lunged for the plant nearest to her and then proceeded to loose the contents that had been in her stomach.

Katherine came out a few moments later, having heard what happened, and did not hesitate to laugh at the new help: a fourteen year old girl who couldn't even stomach the smell of alcohol.

Luckily, Joan had learned a few things about blocking out the smell since then, and now it rarely bothered her. She had eventually fallen in love with the smell of mint rum, Katherine's homemade kind to be precise.

Chucking at the memory, Joan grabbed ale in one hand and rum in the other, scouting the room for anyone who was waiting patiently for a refill. Her eyes were quickly drawn to a young lad who was telling a large group of men stories about his piracy. Everyone at the table was shouting over each other, not ceasing until a man with reddish hair stood up.

The entire tavern quieted, it seemed that even the birds outside had stopped their loud chirps. Everyone was still except for Joan and Katherine, both of which were hurriedly filling up glasses.

As the last drop came out of Joan's ruby colored bottle of rum, she returned to the dirty counter, grabbing a smaller bottle and handing it to one of the customers.

As the light streamed through the small, shafted widows, Joan bent over the counter. With a cloth rag she slowly wiped the dust and grime away, paying more attention to the large pirate than the ask at hand.

He slowly began his story, telling of a clear day out at sea. He described the color of the water, a crystal clear sea green, and the smell of the air. But the story took a turn as he mentioned dark clouds that came over head, loud booms and bright lights: a thunderstorm.

Joan felt herself zone out as she thought of herself, standing at the wheel of a large Brig, or perhaps even a Spanish Man O' War. She could feel the wind in her hair as she told the crew to lower the sails, and she could smell the salt- filled water burn lightly upon her nose.

Sadly, the sound of Katherine calling for her broke Joan out of the glorious daydream, and then it was back to work.