Chapter Text
She had been quite young when her father died, but not young enough to forget him. She remembered every ridiculous bedtime story and every playtime where she and her brother fought against him as pirates; she remembered his fantasy to run off and be a pirate, and how furious her mother had been with him for such a ridiculous thing.
And she remembered how he left. She had thought him dead, just like her mother and brother, and her mother had been the better for it. She didn’t know how to feel at the time; in those years of a child’s life, their motto is commonly ‘what makes my mother happy makes me happy’ and so she didn’t know how to feel joy when her father returned.
Alma would give anything for him to return again. Her brother did not miss him as she did, but there were nights when she stayed up long enough to hear a familiar weeping come from her brother’s room. A sorrow she too felt on days such as this one. It was her father’s birthday.
She and her brother were not permitted by their mother to celebrate, as she feared it would make her new husband quite uncomfortable in his new home, but Alma was never one to follow her mother’s rules. She would sneak out and take her brother with her to their father’s tombstone. Her brother would simply stare, but she would tell him stories. Usually about how much she detested her mother’s new taste in men, but sometimes about piracy.
“I’ll bet you had the best of times,” Alma thought aloud. She was aware of her brother’s presence, but she didn’t care. It was just a silly little fantasy, after all. “Though, with how my memory perceived you, I’ll bet you weren’t the best. In fact, I’ll have bet you were the worst.”
Louis laughed softly at her side. “Definitely. He was much too polite.”
Alma hadn’t heard her brother laugh in quite some time, so she smiled brightly and chuckled along with him. “And clumsy.”
“And not at all dangerous.” Louis’ smile faltered. “Perhaps that was his downfall. The tales were that he had ran into Blackbeard. Made enemies.”
“Those are tales,” Alma bit out. “I hate it when you talk like this. Our father in the presence of that cretin? He would never have made it home alive.”
“He didn’t,” Louis retorted.
“The first time,” Alma corrected herself. “If you were well recited with those tales, you’d know they claim that our father met him before his demise and even sailed with him. What a ridiculous tale! Blackbeard is merciless. He and our father were polar opposites, they wouldn’t have sailed together.”
“He found love in another.”
“Who?”
“Some pirate named Ed. I didn’t care much to ask, but I was happy for him.”
Alma pursed her lips and turned back to her father’s gravestone.
“Our father was a mystery even to us,” Louis stated. “We don’t know what he got up to overseas, but it’s obvious he didn’t survive because of his own instincts. He had help.”
“Every pirate has a crew, Louis,” Alma said.
“Experienced help.”
“Enough of this. I’m ready to go home.” Alma got to her feet and brushed herself off. She rested her hand on top of the gravestone and closed her eyes, wishing her father well wherever he now may be. “Happy birthday, father. Come, Louis.”
Louis did the same as she. “Happy birthday, father. I love you.”
—
“Stede? Is everything alright?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Quite alright.”
“But?”
“Well, I get the feeling someone is… talking about me. Have you ever felt that way?”
“No. It might be a mental illness. Do you feel ill?”
“That’s not how… No, I’m well. I suppose.”
“Hmph. Happy birthday, my love.”
“Thank you, Ed.”
—
CRACK-BOOM!
She gasped and sat up against the head of her bed, settling a hand over her pounding heart. “Curse those storms,” She muttered under her breath. She slipped out of bed and walked out onto her balcony, scowling at the bright flashes through the clouded sky. She’d always hated storms.
She wailed beneath the safety of her covers and cried for her father, or even her mother, to come and rescue her. She knew she’d be safe in their presence.
“My goodness, child!” Her mother.
“It’s alright, Mary darling, I’ve got this.” Alma felt her bed divet and she sunk towards it. She squeaked and maintained a vice grip on the covers over her head. “It’s alright, it’s father. What’s got you in a fright, Alma dear?”
“Storm…”
“Ah.” A beat of silence. Just long enough for a rumble of thunder to burst from the sky. “I used to be afraid of storms too, you know.”
Alma poked her head out from beneath the covers. “Really?” She sniffled.
“Why, of course,” Her father said with the same bubbly tone he always used. He would sound happy even if he looked stoic or angry, she had learned. “Storms are unpredictable and very loud. But, every storm must come to pass. I would always play a game until the storm went away.” Of course, he did. “Would you like to try?”
Alma slid the covers off her head and nodded.
“Alright. Well, when the lightning fills the sky, thunder will always follow, yes?” A nod. “So, if we count the time it takes for thunder to come after lightning, and divide it by five, we’ll know how far away the storm is. Fun and educational!”
Alma giggled and took her father’s hand. She followed him to the balcony, where he lifted her into his arms and looked at the sky. He didn’t mind the vice grip that would wrap around his neck when a loud bang managed to startle her, he would simply rub her back and count from where she left off.
“One, two, three, four.” Thunder echoed. The storm was close, but like her father said, it would come to pass. She closed her balcony doors after turning back into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at where she would have laid as a child, her father in the same position as she was now, speaking reassuring tales to her until she fell asleep. Another small part of her cracked.
Mauled by a leopard. What a fanciful way to die. Not to mention the piano!
Alma chuckled softly and brushed her hand across her covers. “I wish you would come home, father. I hate to pretend your passing pains me, however much your leaving actually does. Why did you not take me with you?” Mother, she blamed. Her mother wouldn’t have allowed her father to take both their children out onto the dangerous sea. A match lit inside her chest.
Alma snuck out of her bedroom and tiptoed into her father’s study. It was the one place throughout the entire house that her mother could not bring herself to demolish. Whether it be out of regret, or just a facade of a heartbroken woman, it remained untouched and became the hideout of her two children. Mostly, Alma’s. By now, there was more of her things than her father’s in the room, but she never got rid of a thing.
She settled in her father’s desk chair and felt a little powerful. She always had when she sat in that chair. She rummaged through the collection of letters and newspapers that had collected on the desk since she moved in and locked onto the one she’d wanted. “The gentleman pirate.” She chuckled. “Honestly, father, what a ridiculous name. I could have thought one better.”
And she would. She collected her favourite books from the shelves and packed them into a satchel that was once her father’s along with a collection of letters, and then she changed her attire. She didn’t have any ‘pirate’ like clothing, but her father’s would do. She took a plain white shirt and some brown trousers, and took out her signature scissors, needle and thread.
By the time she was finished, the trousers had been cut and re-sewn to fit her, and the white shirt had been bunched up to a suitable size.
It was a little bit of a strewn together plan, but at least she, like her father, had planned it before setting it into motion. She knew of the tales about her father and Blackbeard like she told her brother, but she was going to use those tales to get information. If the man truly had sailed with her father, he would know where she could start looking, and it wouldn’t be hard to find the most fearsome pirate across the seven seas.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” All the way to sixty. The storm had passed.
—
When morning came, Mary searched high and low for her daughter. Well, not in truth. She searched her room and then went to check Stede’s former study, a place she only maintained because her children were still unreasonably attached to the man. She couldn’t understand why - he hadn’t been there much. She didn’t hate the man, but she didn’t care for the man either.
“Alma? It’s time to start the day, darling.” She received no response and barged into the room. “Alma?” There was no one in sight. Perhaps she was hiding. Mary walked over to the desk and began to pick up the many newsletters her daughter had collected, speaking a little louder than necessary for someone who might be alone. “Well then, looks like I will have to dispose of these…” She trailed off.
But no one came to snatch them from her hands. Strange. That usually brought her daughter out of her hiding place.
“Alma?”
Creaaakk
Mary jumped with a fright when the door made a sound. She turned around to see who had pulled it closed with her still inside, but the door was ajar, and there was a note imbedded into it with a small dagger. She tutted. “Honestly, these pirate games.” She walked forward and pulled the letter from the door, a faint smile on her lips that slowly bled away along with all colour in her face. “Oh my god…
Stede Bonnet, I am going to murder you!”
—
Alma slipped through the crowds with great ease, like she wore delinquency so well to those around her that none questioned her presence or even batted an eyelash. Her father wouldn’t have had the same ease she had, she knew without a doubt, because he was too good. Too sophisticated. He’d have stuck out like a sore thumb.
She saw a number of boats that she could sneak onto, but first things first: information. She walked around until she found a pub that she believed would have answers to her questions.
The bartender regarded her with mild surprise. “Well, I have to admit, I’m not so sure I can serve rum to such a young one. What’re you doing out here, kid?”
Alma sat up straight, bold and confident. “I’m not here for the rum. I need information.”
“Information, eh? And what information might you be looking for?” The bartender asked.
“I need to find Blackbeard,” Alma stated. “Or pass on a message.”
“Blackbeard?” A mug slammed down on the side next to her and she looked at the man, unfazed. “Yer barkin’ up the wron’ tree, missy. He’ll kill ya.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” Alma sneered. The pirate looked somewhat surprised at her back talk. “That man has information and I won’t rest until I find him. Now, say something useful or fuck off.”
“Why you —AGHK!”
The bartender leaned forward with narrowed eyes and his knife in the pirate’s arm. “Leave the child or leave a limb less.”
The pirate harrumphed and sat down with a calmer, yet still enraged, air about him. “So, yer lookin’ for the Karken ‘imself. A dangerous game. Whadd’ya want ‘im for? He ain’t the information type.”
“He knew my father,” She stated. “I want him to tell me where he is.”
The pirate barked a haughty laugh. “An’ you think yer father’s alive? None who come into contact wi’ that man live!”
“I didn’t ask,” Alma snapped.
“What’s your message, child?” The bartender asked, shooting the pirate a death glare. “I might not be able to sail the seven seas with you, but I can pass on a message from a grieving child.”
“I’m not grieving. He knows where my father is, and he’s going to tell me,” Alma said firmly. “I want you to tell him…”
“I’m looking for him, and I’ll search every port until I find him, and then he’ll have to answer to me.”
“Answer to her, huh?” Ed wasn’t afraid of a child’s threat. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” He turned around and beckoned for his men. They were leaving.
“You can’t hurt her, Ed,” Stede said, walking up to Ed’s side. “She’s just a child.”
“I was a child too when I became… well, me.”
“Exactly! She has such a good life ahead of her!”
Ed did not smile. He did not melt because of some stupid, absolutely fucking cringey, sentimental bullshit that came out of the man that was ridiculously attractive for no good fucking reason. He scoffed and shrugged off Stede’s hand like any fierce pirate would. Fuck anyone who said otherwise.
“Looking a little sunburn in the face, Captain!”
“Lucius!”