Work Text:
Princess Madeleine’s petticoats swish about her knees as she leans over the railing to gaze out across the sea. Her skirts are heavy and too hot and her stays too tight, and Madeleine has never felt so constricted. She grips the rail so tightly that her knuckles are turned white and her hands hurt.
Better to ache than to tremble, she thinks.
“Ma belle.” King Francis’s voice startles her from her thoughts, and she jolts before she turns to look at her father.
“Papa,” she replies, ducking into a tiny curtsy. Her father chuckles and shakes his head. Between the two of them, there is no need for formalities.
“We’ll be reaching the port in two more days,” he tells her as he slips an arm around her shoulders.
“I know, papa,” Madeleine replies. That’s part of the problem, she doesn’t say. She feels like she’s being marched to her death, and now that they’re so close—
It’s ridiculous, she tells herself. It’s only marriage.
Only marriage.
“You will be happy,” Francis says, oblivious to her thoughts. “I know that Lord Gilbert is older, but he is a good man. You’ll like him.”
Madeleine hides a grimace by turning her gaze back to the sea. ‘Older’ is an understatement. Lord Gilbert is Francis’s age. They had, in fact, been school friends. He is too old for her, and she doesn’t want to marry him. She doesn’t want to marry anyone.
“I hope so, papa,” she sighs, fingers curling back around the railing.
She supposes that she should consider herself lucky—she could do much worse than Lord Gilbert.
Francis sighs and leans in to kiss her cheek. “Supper is in a few hours, so do come below deck to change soon.”
Madeleine manages a smile. “I will, papa.”
With a smile of his own, the king slips away, leaving his daughter to her thoughts.
—
Eventually, Madeleine knows she must get dressed for dinner, so she forces herself away from the calming sea.
She is, admittedly, not paying much attention to where she is going, but whoever runs into her comes seemingly out of nowhere, and Madeleine finds herself sprawled flat on her back.
“Oh no!” Says a high clear voice. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Madeleine feels hands tugging at her arms and her dress in an effort to help her up.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Madeleine mumbles, batting at the hands. She pushes herself to her knees and then takes a look at the other person. “You didn’t hurt me,” she assures her.
Kneeling before her is another girl, with short blonde curls and big blue eyes and a sheepish smile. She’s dressed like a cabin worker or a scullery maid. “I’m Ellie,” the girls sighs. “You won’t tell Cook, will you? She’ll give me a lickin’ for knockin’ into you, miss.” Ellie gathers a bundle into her arms and holds it close to her chest. “My ma is always tellin’ me that I should pay more attention to where I’m goin’.”
Madeleine’s eyes soften. “It’s fine, really. You didn’t mean to.” She might be princess, higher born than any of the workers on the ship, but she is not blind to the plight of girls like Ellie.
Ellie grins, and for a moment Madeleine is blinded by the brilliance of her smile. It leaves her feeling breathless, and Madeleine watches Ellie stand with wide eyes. When Ellie reaches out a hand, Madeleine almost doesn’t know what to do with it.
Swallowing hard, Madeleine takes her hand—Ellie’s palms are warm and calloused, and her grip is sure and strong as she tugs Madeleine to her feet.
“There we are,” Ellie says with a kind smile. Madeleine thinks that she holds her hand for a beat longer than needed, but then she’s curling her arms back around her bundle and hefting it up against her hip.
A call sounds out from the mast above, and Ellie shakes herself from whatever she’d been thinking as she and Madeleine gazed at each other. “I’ve got to go now, miss,” Ellie says. “You should too.”
With one last grin over her shoulder, Ellie disappears around the bend, and Madeleine is left with a pounding heart and a different sort of tremble.
(Later, it will occur to her that her conversation with Ellie was the first time anyone had spoken to her without calling her ‘princess’ or ‘your highness’ or ‘m’lady.’
She thinks she likes that.)
—
“Papa!” Madeleine calls, fear and panic making her sick, “Papa, where are you?” The deck is smoky and loud with screams and gunshots and cannon fire. She hefts her skirts up high, slipping as she runs, and tries to find her father.
She has no idea where he is in the chaos of the pirate attack, and she has never been so frightened. Madeleine yelps in terror when the ship lurches and she finds herself flung into a pile of coiled ropes.
Somewhere above her, a voice shouts, “They’re boarding!”
Groaning in pain and unable to stop the hot tears from rolling down her cheeks, Madeleine jumps up and stumbles away from the noise. If she can get belowdecks again, she might be able to find her father.
It will get her out of the fighting, at least.
She runs blindly to where she thinks there is less activity, and bites back a scream when someone grabs her by the arm and tugs her into a half-hidden alcove.
“Let go!” She struggles against whoever it is and lashes out until she hears a high-pitched yelp.
“Calm down, calm down!” Ellie’s voice is like a lighthouse beacon amidst stormy waters, and Madeleine latches onto it. Ellie whispers over and over again to calm her until Madeleine’s breath comes easier.
“Ellie,” she whispers, clinging to the other girl’s forearms. “Ellie, help me.”
“Shh,” Ellie replies, stroking her hair. “It’s all right. They ain’t here for you.”
“Huh?” Madeleine looks up, searching for Ellie’s eyes, and only then notices the state she’s in. Ellie’s lip is split and there’s a cut above her eye that’s bleeding slowly down her face. Her clothes are torn and wrinkled, and there’s a pistol and a cutlass shoved haphazardly into her belt. “Ellie?”
“It’s okay,” Ellie repeats. “No one’s here for you, or for your papa.”
“How do you know?” Madeleine asks. There’s a sinking feeling in her belly, and she hunches her shoulders forward. For some reason she doesn’t want to know the answer.
Ellie hesitates, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s… Well, it’s my ma’s ship that’s attacked,” Ellie admits finally.
Madeleine rears back in horror, scrambling away. She presses herself against the opposite wall, and stares wide-eyed at the other girl.
“Wait, please—” Ellie starts.
“No!” Madeleine cries. “You’re criminals! I could have you all hanged for this! You—you can’t just attack defenseless ships!”
“It’s not that!” Ellie growls. “We didn’t even know you an’ your da were gonna be on board! It’s not about you at all, or even about gold.”
“Then what is it about?” Madeleine narrows her eyes, fists clenched angrily in her skirts. She doubts that anything Ellie says can make piracy better.
Ellie bites her lip. “D’you know that big man that’s on board? The one with the beard who stomps ‘round like he owns the ship?”
“Yes,” Madeleine admits. He’d made friends with her papa all through the journey, but he’d leered over at Madeleine every chance he could get away with it. She’d seen him yelling angrily at more than a few sailors too. No one seems to like him very much.
“His wife’s just joined up with our crew,” Ellie says. “At least till we can get her set up with her sister over in America. He, uh— He wasn’t very nice to her. She didn’t like him.” Ellie’s eyes sparkle fiercely, and she tilts her chin, as if challenging Madeleine. “That’s what we do. Ma knows what it’s like to be stuck somewhere you can’t stand bein’. She used to be a fine lady herself, you see, till she was so unhappy she couldn’t stand it anymore. So she bundled up an’ ran away.
“That’s when she met ol’ Queen Lizzie on board the Wild Mare—that’s our ship; ma took over after Lizzie passed on, God rest her soul—an’ then she had me, an’ ever since, we’ve been lookin’ to help other women.”
Ellie looks at Madeleine so earnestly that she can’t help but know instinctively that Ellie is telling the truth. More quietly, Ellie adds, “It ain’t easy bein’ a woman. So we try to make it better any way we can.”
“I know it’s hard,” Madeleine says, softly. She gazes down at her own trembling hand. “My papa is the king, and I’m his oldest child. But I will never be queen. My younger brother will. Instead I am to marry papa’s friend, who’s twice my age. I’ve never met him before.”
Madeleine knows that she’s very lucky. She’s never wanted for anything. She’s spent her whole life in comfort.
But she’s still not in control of her own life.
“You can come too,” Ellie murmurs. She reaches for Madeleine’s hand. “We take any woman who’s willing to work. It’ll be hard. Ain’t gonna be anything you’re used to. We don’t have fancy dresses and soft beds and rich food. And bein’ a sailor’s hard work. We wake up at dawn and sleep after dark, an’ we’re always tired. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to grow up like you, ‘cause ma used to be married to a rich landowner, but I wouldn’t give this up. I can choose my own way. If you come, you can too.”
She twines her fingers with Madeleine’s and squeezes gently, reassuringly.
“But papa—” Madeleine starts. She doesn’t pull her hand away though.
“You can write him,” Ellie replies. “It ain’t feasible for every lady, dependin’ on her circumstances, but ma never stops anyone from writing their family if they want.”
“Papa won’t stop till he finds me again. He’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.”
“We’re always on the run,” Ellie assures her. “But we’ll help you, promise. Ma never turns anyone away.”
Madeleine swallows hard. The thought of leaving terrifies her, and she doesn’t think she’d be any good at hard work. She’s never had to do it before.
But the thought of freedom is sweet on her mind, almost as sweet as Ellie’s imploring smile. And she really doesn’t want to get married, probably ever. She takes a deep breath and tightens her hand around Ellies.
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”
(And Madeleine never regrets the choice.)