In The Arms Of My Pirate

Mercy for a Pirate

Laughter filled his ears as Charles sank further into the frigid darkness.

"Is it done yet?" a little girl's voice asked from behind him.

Charles shook his head, shifting his shoulders to hide the object in his hands from his little sister. "Not yet."

The girl heaved a sigh and flopped to the ground behind him, pressing her back to his. "Mother says I'm too old for those now." The little girl said, flipping one of her copper curls over his shoulder. "She says I should focus on cooking and preparing to find a husband."

Charles paused, his fingers tightening around the straw in his hand.

"She's not well, Fidelia," he whispered. "Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they're ill."

"Do you think I should be looking for a husband?" Fidelia asked, nervousness tinging her voice.

"You're only thirteen," Charles scoffed. "Besides, preparing and looking for are two very different things."

Back in England, young women of the upper classes went out into society at fifteen. They may even wed that same year. But this was America... and in his eyes, his little red-headed sister was still a child. He wished she could run around chasing kites and playing with the cats in the dirt forever.

"What if he hits me, like Mr. Barker?" Fidelia's voice tightened.

Anger bubbled in Charles' chest. Their neighbor two doors down made no secret of his treatment of his wife, and Charles often heard them arguing late into the night.

"He wouldn't dare lay a finger on you; whoever you marry."

"How can you be so sure?"

Charles could tell from the lurching way she said it that Fidelia was near tears.

"I won't let him," Charles promised, turning to look in her green eyes, like two bright disks of weathered copper that shone up at him, wet with unshed tears. "I'll find you a good man. A man who treats you better than a queen."

"Will he be handsome?" Fidelia brightened, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

"Not too handsome, mind you," Charles teased, shucking her under her chin. "But yes. Tall, handsome, wealthy... whatever you'd like. But no matter what, he will be a good man with a good heart. You shall never want for love or happiness."

"Promise?" Fidelia asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Promise," Charles said, handing her the little straw doll he'd been crafting. "I'll always be here to protect you and take care of you."

The bright rays of sunshine faded around him, taking the precious memory with it. His head ached terribly. He knew he should struggle against the sucking water... struggle to the surface.

But his arms and legs felt too heavy.

I'm sorry, Fidelia, he thought as consciousness slipped through his fingers. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise.

Warmth enveloped him, and he opened his eyes. Fidelia's face danced above him, her fox-like nose upturned with a loving smile.

Charles tried to smile back, but he couldn't. Guilt tore at him.

She reached out her hand and took his. Finally, he succumbed to the darkness.

***
The waves closed in around Octavia and she forced her eyes open, ignoring the painful sting of salt water.