For Lili
At first, there was only the slight rocking movement of the cot she lay on; that, and the dim sounds of the open sea, seeping through the cracks in the oiled boards. As Lili came slowly to her senses, the events of the past few hours came flooding back to her: the excited days of packing for her family's return to London, servants filling chest after chest with fine dresses and jewelry; the first few uneventful days at sea, spending most of her time in her cabin with her books and her dark thoughts of the tall midshipman with the piercing eyes; and then the sudden, savage attack on her father's boat, from the black-sailed sloop they had never seen coming in the watches of the night.
As Lili's eyes adjusted to the gloom, she began to piece together what must have happened. She remembered the cries of the crew, the sounds of clashing steel, and her maidservant coming to her with a hushed exhortation to stay indoors, with the door firmly bolted (At barely 18, her maidenhead was a treasure even more firmly protected by her lord father than all of his gold). But it was all for naught; as she shivered on her bed, soon after the door was split in two by a powerful kick from a boot, and rough hands seized her, bundling her into someone's strong arms. She swooned, and remembered no more -- and now here she was, in a strange room, on a strange ship.
And yet it did not seem like a cell; the door was of course firmly locked, but as she looked around, she saw paintings on the wooden walls, and looking back she saw that she had been laid, fully dressed, on a large bed, topped with a fine down comforter and what looked like silk sheets, even softer than those she had known at the family home in Jamaica. Perhaps they had indeed been rescued from their plight, and were on another of Her Majesty's vessels, on their way to their destination.
Her question was soon to be answered, it seemed; powerful footsteps were making their purposeful way to her door, and she sat back down on the luxurious bed, trying for a pose of graceful calm. She heard what sounded like a dozen locks and chains being pulled aside, and the door swung wide, revealing the silhouette of a towering man, a shadow cast from the lantern on the wall behind him.
"Good," he said in a low rumble of a voice, accented with a dialect close to her birthplace -- Scotland, perhaps, or Ireland. "You're awake. I trust you enjoyed your beauty rest, my lady"
The way he said the word seemed to drip with irony, and it was at that point Lili was sure she had fallen into the hands of the only remaining enemy of the British Empire -- a lowly pirate.
As her captor swung the door closed behind him (she heard other hands fastening the locks once more -- they were taking no chances that she would be sly and try an escape), he came into sharper focus in the cabin's gaslight. He stood more than 6 feet tall, and was broad and well-muscled -- a fact that was apparent despite his long coat. A trim beard decorated his chiseled features, and his eyes were like intelligent flecks of flint as he looked her over, making her feel as if she were naked before his gaze. It
seemed as if she saw him smile as her cheeks reddened, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes," he rumbled again, his voice dark and deep. "You'll do, well enough."
Lili found her bravery and her voice at this. "Well enough for what, sir?"
Her jailer smiled wider. "Sir? Why, I like that -- that's a good start. A respectful start, young Lili Hughes. To answer your very good question, you're good enough to be my new -- consort, let's say. You'll stay here, and do as I say, and you'll keep your lovely things," he said, casting around the room with a gesture. "And if you disobey me, you'll be overboard sharing your fine dresses with Davy Jones." At this, he turned to go, after one long look up and down her body, from the fiery curls of her hair, over her slim neck, the full swell of her bosom straining at her corset, the shapely hips in a fine green satin dress, and her ankles and dainty feet on the wooden boards. "Think on that awhile."
"My household," she said, stepping forward a little, bolder still now. "If I'm to be held hostage in some way... why, my father --"
"Your father's dead," the man growled. "I'm your father now, missy."
The thick oaken door slammed resolutely shut behind him, and Lili's senses finally reported to her what she had seen; a pin on the man's jacket, an unmistakable silver lion with an eagle's wings. She was in the clutches of Captain Roark -- the Black Griffin. She sank onto the bed and wept, for her family and what she had lost, and for what she might yet lose.
It was difficult to tell how much time had passed -- her cabin had no porthole -- when Lili heard her door being opened from without once more. She had located a chest of her belongings which had been deposited with her, and changed into a fresh slip and a deep blue velvet dress which had always been her favorite. Perhaps if she could plead to the Black Griffin's better qualities he may still release her. Pirates did always play at gentleman, with their own codes and rules. Mayhap there was something she could offer him to sway his hand.
Lili stood by her dresser, caught in the act of brushing her long curls as Roark strode into the room, his eyes seeming to once again claim her, own her. It was not hard to see how he had risen to his infamous position -- he exuded a dark confidence. She knew at once she must not risk his anger.
"You've changed," Roark said, as he stood with his hands on his hips, watching her.
"Do -- do you not like it, sir? I can put the green dress on again --"
"No," he said, eyes drinking her in. "No, I like this one. But from now on, I decide what you wear, and when. Is that clear?"
"Y-yes, captain Roark."
