The Pirate Queen

Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night, but you never would have been able to tell from inside the bar. Every patron was crowded around a small wooden table in the middle of the floor, shot glasses spilling over and puddling into a mix of rum and spit. Money and coins were flying faster than a seagull on a high breeze, the shouting getting louder with every new drink poured between the two at the table. 

A man, large and muscular, sat red-faced with a small shot glass of rum in his meaty hand. His hand was shaking as he raised it to his lips, and downed with a wince. Ten shots for him. 

The figure across from him had a large three-pointed hat pulled over their face, leaving just a smirk visible. Their boots were on the table, relishing in the attention of the crowd. If they won, and they knew they would, a massive portion of the pot would go straight into their pocket. And then dumped right back out again to help pay off a long tab of dues. But first things first, winning the money.

The figure leaned forward and picked up their own tenth shot glass and downed it quickly. But before anyone could react, they reached forward for an eleventh shot and threw it back, hat falling to the floor. 

The crowd roared to life, drowning out the sounds of thunder and wind outside. The petite girl with the bright red hair grinned wickedly at the man whose face was now leaning more towards purple as he sneered at her. He tried to stand, swaying heavily on his feet before collapsing and hitting the sticky wooden floor with a massive thud. 

"And don't ever doubt me again!" she cried, pumping a fist in the air. Money poured onto the table in front of her and she laughed, flicking a long braid behind her shoulder as she poured the money into a leather purse. 

After the coins had been divided out and a few cups of water chugged, she stood to leave and stumble back to bed. This bar on the wharf, Hurricane, was her most frequent stop in between ports. Every sailor went here, be it a captain or a cabin boy. As the first mate to the Dauntless, she had built up her own reputation as a pirate, and as a drinker. A reputation the poor man on the floor had challenged tonight. 

"Thanks for the drinks Bram!" she called, waving a hand to the bar owner. 

"You gonna pay for those?" he shot back, picking up all the glasses. Bram had a wooden leg, an eyepatch, and one of the meanest looks of any person she'd ever met. But Bram had given her more than a free drink over the years, and she knew that behind those scars was a man who cared deeper than the darkest parts of the ocean. 

"Just add it to my tab." She pivoted on her boot, already thinking about splurging on a hot bath when the door banged open, letting in a gush of wind and spray of rain. A tall thin man stood dripping in the doorframe, frantically scanning the room. His eyes landed on the girl. 

"Come quick, it's the Captain!" 

Any drunkenness that had been clouding Ariel's vision faded quickly as she ran from the bar with the ship's doctor straight into the raging storm. She was soaked in seconds but couldn't be bothered to notice as the hull of the ship she called home came into view. Skipping up the gangplank, she practically slid down the steps into the Captain's chambers, warm and dry from the storm outside. 

There was no one in the room save for a figure on the bed and the boatswain stooped over on a chair. He looked up when Ariel and the doctor came in and stood quickly. "He's gotten worse Doc." 

Ariel walked up to the bedside where her Captain, her master, her adoptive father for all intents and purposes was laying. He was sweating profusely, his breathing labored. He coughed loudly into a handkerchief that came away bloody. 

"Nott, I'm here..." She whispered, laying a hand on his arm. 

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at her, a smile only privy for her, then coughed again. "Ariel... Something has happened. Something... You need to know."