Work Text:
It harkened back to the tales the sailors told
Aboard her father's ship - in subdued tones,
They spoke of cursed gold and sunbleached bones,
And souls exchanged like pardons, bought and sold.
With windswept hair and sea-spray on her face,
She closed her eyes - how easy to believe
The sordid sort of tales those men would weave -
How real those stories seemed in such a place.
Disapproving, her father would inquire
If it were wise to tell her such tall tales -
But, stronger than she looked, she did not quail -
Such worries only served to fuel her fire.
And then one day, like fate or prophecy,
Those sails appeared, exactly as they'd said;
And in their wake, they left a trail of dead,
And a merchant ship that burned in effigy.
For years to come, she'd dream about that day -
The calmness of the sea, the sunless sky,
The boy they salvaged from the wreck - how still he lie,
How cold his hands and face; how ashen grey.
And how, around his neck, a flaxen chain
Shone bright against the pallor of his skin;
It'd be better than the brand, to do him in!
For pirate's blood ran, surely, through his veins.
From that moment forth, she swore an oath
That she would care for him in coming days
And forever keep his secret, come what may -
If they wanted him, they'd have to take them both.