"Ye are not leavin' this bed."

Edward Teague eyed the woman standing at his bedside, hands on her hips.

"I have to," he said patiently.
"The Keeper has to be present for a meetin' to happen."

"Well, you're gonna have to cancel the meeting...hold on, could you, theoretically, get someone to sit in as Keeper?"

"Well," Teague said slowly, "I don't think there's anythin' sayin' that ye can't get someone to sit in as Keeper."
His dark gaze fell on the silver skull ring on his right hand.

Then he raised an eyebrow. "Who d'ye have in mind Soracha?"

A slight smile touched the Irishwoman's lips as she pushed a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Me," she answered simply.

Teague looked at her incredulously.
"Excuse me?"

"Me. I have meself in mind."
She raised a hand to halt his immediate protest.
"You've just told me there's nothin' in the Code sayin' someone can't sit in your seat. So what'd be wrong with me sittin' in it?"

"For a start, ye don't know the bloody Code. Secondly, ye kinda need to be able to shoot. Thirdly, I somehow don't think the Pirate King'll agree to ye borrowin' me seat."

Soracha narrowed her eyes.
"What makes ye think I can't shoot?"

"You don't carry a pistol an' I've never seen ye fire one," Teague answered.

She scoffed slightly.
"I don't like shooting. That doesn't mean I can't shoot."

Teague reached under his pillow, pulling out a pistol.
"Empty bottle on the desk. Shoot it," he said, handing her the pistol.

Soracha cocked the hammer and aimed.
For a few moments she stood perfectly still, pistol held steady.

Then she pulled the trigger.
The bottle shattered, sending shards of glass over the desk and cabin floor.

"I'm impressed."

Soracha spun the smoking pistol, a smile playing on her lips.
"I'm full of surprises, Eddie Teague."

He glared at her playfully.

She grinned, tossed the pistol onto the bed and sat down.
"So, do I get to borrow your seat?"

"You'd have to ask the Pirate King."

Soracha stood, opened the door and called, "Can I request an audience with the Pirate King?"

A laugh floated down the corridor, accompanied by footsteps.
A moment later, a woman entered, her eyes amused.

"The Pirate King heard your request."

She crossed the room, brushing a stray wave of brown hair out of her face, revealing a scar that curved from her left ear down to her jaw, white against her lightly tanned skin.

Sitting down, she crossed her legs and turned her hazel gaze expectantly on Teague and Soracha.

"Why did you request an audience with me?"

"Because I'm going to be sitting in the chair usually occupied by your husband while the Brethren Court meet," said Soracha.

"Oh really?" Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "When did I agree to this?"

"Just agree with her Asthore. There's absolutely no point in arguin' cause she's just as stubborn as ye are," Teague said with a wry smile.

Roxanne sighed slightly.
"I don't have time to argue, the meeting starts in less than an hour. Soracha, load a pistol or two while I go track down that bloody dog."

Forty-five minutes later, eight of the nine Pirate Lords had assembled in the Pirate Hall.

Rather than a guitar, there was a fiddle being played on the balcony, earning a few curious looks in that direction.

Roxanne sat at the head of the long table, drumming her fingers impatiently on the wood, which was stained, dented, scuffed and otherwise marked from having stood in the center of a court of pirates for so long.

Her attention rested on the empty chair as the Lords and their companions talked and argued among themselves.

The chandelier of flickering candles helped brighten the hall, which was constructed in what had once been an impressive ship.

Roxanne hated Shipwreck Island, a graveyard where the bodies of ships had been distorted into homes and other buildings to house the pirates who had once sailed them.
It was a safe haven, it's location kept almost entirely a secret and it's entrance, known as the Devil's Throat, had claimed many ships, tearing their hulls to shreds and swallowing their crews in black water.

At last, the door at the top of the hall opened.

A figure wandered across the room, walking with a slightly drunken but confident swagger.

A bottle was held loosely in a hand adorned with rings, a tattered strip of lace poking out from out from under the cuff of a frock coat.
A worn striped sash was visible under the coat's skirt, tied over a waistcoat, long legs clad in breeches and well-worn sea boots.

A battered tricorn hat sat atop a faded red bandana, tied to hold a mane of tangled, trinket-adorned dreadlocks out of dark eyes.

"You're late," said Roxanne flatly as the newcomer took the empty seat at the table.

He waved an airy hand.
"I was otherwise engaged being-"

"I don't want excuses, Captain Sparrow. I want you to turn up on time for fucking meetings, understood?"

He nodded in acquiescence as Roxanne fired a pistol into the air to gain attention before declaring the meeting open.

Soracha's fiddle playing punctuated the reports given by the Lords and Roxanne was paying more attention to it than what the other captains were saying.

An argument broke out, which brought her wandering thoughts back to the meeting.

"-it ain't the Code, you can't do that."

"Fuck the Code, it's just a stupid book. I'll do as I damn well please!"

"Wouldn't have said that if I were you, mate."
Wary dark eyes turned towards the balcony, where the fiddle had suddenly ceased playing.

Surprised gasps rose from the assembled Lords as a slender, auburn-haired woman descended into their midst, carrying two long, wickedly sharp knives.

"Sorry, what did ye say?" she asked calmly, her Irish accented voice ringing out clearly in the shocked silence that now filled the Hall.

The silence lasted all of two minutes, then everyone started talking at once.

"Who the hell's she?"

"Another fucking woman in the Court..."

"Is Teague dead?"

Roxanne fired two shots, effectively silencing the room.

"Soracha. She's only here for this meeting. No, he's not," she replied briefly, watching as Soracha put her knives at the throat of the man who'd disregarded the Code, then pulled her hands back.

Blood sprayed into the air, spurting from a severed artery to fall like rain, showering the table in fat scarlet drops.

Most of the Court stared, open-mouthed, as Soracha calmly wiped the knife blades clean.

"Anyone else want to disregard the Code while I'm downstairs?" she asked, spinning her knives casually as the man's body hit the floor at her feet.

Nobody dared to speak, all staring at the Irishwoman with varying degrees of fear and the beginning of respect.

Only Roxanne and Jack, who had known Soracha all his life, were completely unaffected by the whole thing.

"Thank you," Roxanne said, nodding to dismiss her and calmly continuing the meeting, which passed without further incident.

Soracha came back downstairs as the hall emptied.
"That went well."

Roxanne grinned. "Yeah it did. You're nearly as intimidating as Eddie when you've got your knives in your hands."

Soracha chuckled. "Aye, that's true," she agreed, sheathing her knives.

Jack joined them. "Hey Mum, Soracha," he said, giving them both a hug.
His eyes sparkled as he glanced at Roxanne.

"Everyone's scared of Soracha."

"As they should be," Soracha said, grinning dangerously.

"Why's she here anyway?" Jack asked.

"To murder you if you don't hand up your report," Roxanne answered playfully.
"The serious answer:- your father's hurt and she wouldn't let him out of bed, so she borrowed his seat."

"Well you make a pretty good stand-in Code Keeper," Jack said to Soracha.

"Why thank ye," she responded, bowing.

Her gaze travelled disdainfully around the hall.
"Now let's get out of this shithole."

JasonMurray29
Here you go! Happy Christmas!!