I was going to do my “The Duff” au but instead I decided to head back to rival pirate captain au territory.
(HAHAHAHA THREE SENTENCES. CONSIDER THIS THE “OR MORE” answer)
“What if someone recognizes us? What if they drag as back, what will your parents say? Oh god, what will my parents say? Oh god, what if we get kidnapped?”
Emma continues walking, cutting through the trees as Elsa trails after her. Anna’s voice continues inventing every possible worst case scenario she can think of, but Emma is on a mission.
White sails, yellow striping. A ship docked at port for the night, whispers of pirates.
Captain Hook is here.
Her trousers are a tad snug, her cloak long and billowing out behind her as she follows paths through the woods she’s been mapping out for years, and her friends trail after her in amused bewilderment. It’s not the first time she’s led them to rebel a bit, and it likely won’t be the last.
“What if they take us out to sea make us walk the plank?” Anna is asking, clearly desperately clinging to some last hope that if she becomes dramatic enough Emma will drop this urge and move on to something tamer, like, perhaps, taming dragons, or becoming the Dark One. Anything but chasing after pirates.
“If they do, remember your doggy paddle.” Elsa says, and Anna throws out a hand to smack at her sisters shoulder, falling silently into step beside her.
They cut through the undergrowth, and Emma follows the familiar slope of the hill up into more sparsely placed trees, until the line of the portside town comes into view. Elsa and Anna both nearly stumble into her as she pulls to a stop at the top of the hill. “If you want to go back, ladies, I suggest you do it now.”
Elsa doesn’t say a word, but Anna’s spine straightens like she’s been challenged, and Emma has to fight hard not to grin in triumph. “This is fine. We’ll be fine. It’ll be an adventure.”
“What about the kidnapping? And the plank walking?”
“Don’t be silly, none of those things are going to happen.” Her voice barely wavers, and Emma links a hand through the crooks of each of her friends arms.
“I hope you’re prepared to drink some rum, your majesties.”
The tavern is loud and bustling, and Emma adjusts her hood around her face as she drags her friends off to a dark corner near the back. She’s been here a few times before, with one of her parents guard, knows how to scope out the best vantage point in a room, and with her back to the wall and a tankard of ale in her hand, she feels near invincible as she stares across the tavern towards the table of boisterous men playing a game of dice.
She’s less than impressed. Is this what pirates look like? She’d thought they were all flamboyant jackets and leather eye-patches, peg legs and puffy shirts, just like the books always describe, but these men are just… men. Their clothes are worn but hardy, their beards are slightly grizzled, and not a single one of them seems to be missing an eye or an appendage.
Emma is settling herself for disappointment when the door to the tavern bursts open, and the men all send up a raucous cheer.