Hi all – like most of you, I can't be bothered waiting over 7 months for the game to finally be released, so I thought I'd give my own person twist on an alternate beginning to the story! Don't worry – there will be plenty of hot, sweaty scenes in chapters to come. ;)

As revealed by Ubi's website, the game begins in 1715 – but other than that, I don't really have much else to go on, so I'll try and keep Edward as close to his description as possible (brash, young, cocky, fearsome, etc). All dates, events and characters introduced will be as historically accurate as possible. Enjoy!

January 1715

I hate ships.

Not because of the smell; the dank stench of brine and barnacles was an assault to the senses, but bearable to some extent. I could pinch my nose and be blessedly free of the putrid smell, even if the relief was short-lived.

Those words repeated mindlessly in my head. I hate ships.

Not because of the lurching waves that heaved the boat back and forth, or the nauseating seasickness that accompanied the hull's endless teeter. Not even because of the hot, slimy air that burned inside my lungs with each breath, or the fact that every surface was slippery and wet to the touch.

I hated ships because of the darkness. The prison chamber that confined me must have been in the deepest hold of the ship, where the air was stale and darkness was all I could perceive. I could scarcely see my own hands in front of my face.

From what I could tell, metal bars surrounded me on all sides except the rear wall, which was solid wood, and likely the sidewall of the ship. An iron shackle gripped my ankle and secured me to the floor; the chains offered little slack, but allowed me some freedom to move around. I gripped the damp bars and heaved until my muscles ached, knowing that the gate was locked, but I refused to sit idly like a helpless child awaiting whatever miserable fate would befall me.

Through the loud rolling of seawater, I could faintly hear the voices of those awful men from somewhere above, and I felt myself scowl in futility. My throat was so parched from screaming that there was no point in trying to make any noise – not that it had solved any of my problems in the first place. I choked back a despairing sob, not allowing my dignity to be broken. Sagging weakly against the floor, I closed my eyes and curled my arms around my poorly clothed body, wishing with all my heart that I would wake any moment and be free of this nightmare.

I slept fitfully, the hard surface of the floor a poor substitute to the comfort of my own bed. The heat was unbearable, and the continuous rising and falling of the ship eventually overpowered my stomach; bile spewed from my gaping mouth, and I tried with what little effort I had to avoid covering myself in the foul-smelling substance.

Sometimes the voices would become louder, and light would flicker briefly as men opened the hatch-door to the main deck, but as I was at the lowest berth of the ship, I barely even caught a whiff of clean, fresh air. The shackle cut into the tender flesh of my ankle whenever I strained against it, so eventually I gave up my struggle. My lips were dry, yet burnt feverishly, and I could no longer tell whether my cheeks were sodden from my own tears or from the salty moisture of the ship.

I could only discern the passing of days by the pattern of my waking hours; the absence of light made it almost impossible to know what time of day it could be, and with each bout of restless sleep, I grew more delirious and insensible. My tongue felt like a desert, the linings of my mouth and lips dry and stinging with desire for water. Dehydration sucked the sense from my body; at times I resorted to licking the wooden floor just to taste the damp moisture on my tongue for a few blissful moments, yet the salty tang of seawater only enflamed my cravings. I slept to relieve myself of the hunger and thirst that wracked my body, my anguish so unbearable that I no longer cared for my fate at the hands of these marauders.

Light flashed briefly, illuminating the musty confines of my cage and stirring me from my daze. I blinked vaguely, my eyes coming into focus as I saw the shadow of a person emerge from somewhere along the upper deck. The sound of creaking stairs was followed by forebodingly slow footsteps, the faint scuffing of boots on the wooden floor growing closer.

I shuffled listlessly towards the back wall and averted my eyes downward, refusing to acknowledge my captor. I heard a slight sneer from the affronting man, yet I dared not move.

"Oi!" I winced slightly at the abrasiveness of his voice, but continued to ignore him.

"Look at me, ya little wench." His heavy accent caused my brows to furrow delicately. He was an Englishman - a rough-sounding Englishman. None of this made any sense.

"Ya gonna fetch us a pretty penny, eh? Reckon you'll feel right at 'ome with the other redlegs."

The sour stench of rum wafted into my nostrils, and my chest tightened as I suppressed the need to cough. It was apparent by his irrational chuckling that he was drunk, but unsettlingly, his words may have held some merit. If he spoke the truth, then I was to be sold for money – but to whom, I couldn't fathom. His crude slang meant little to me, and I was too stubborn in my ways to acknowledge him now, even in my exhausted state.

"Mmmmm…" his gruff voice drawled languidly as he leaned against the metal bars and tipped his head back, the swaying motion of the ship probably too overwhelming for him to maintain balance. He wasn't just drunk – he was absolutely legless. His sleazy gaze returned to rove slowly over my body and the tattered undergarments that offered my body scarce coverage.

"C'mon blondie, show me those pretty blue eyes, eh…" I scowled in distaste at his slurred, lecherous tone. I didn't even have blue eyes. I persisted, and refused to make eye contact.

"A'right then, if that's the way ya wanna play…" His voice lowered dangerously, yet it was the jangle of keys that truly caught my attention. I felt my heart stop, and coldness spiked through my chest in fear. He fumbled with the set of keys in his fingers, his shoulders wracked in subdued laughter as he finally selected one between his fingers and attempted to insert it into the lock on my cage.

Metal met with metal as he missed the keyhole twice, but on the third try I heard the faint click of the lock opening. I froze, unable to move – even if I wanted to, the shackle around my ankle had me chained to the spot.

"Up, up, up!" he chanted giddily, gripping my arm and lifting me gracelessly to my feet. Oh god, the smell! Sweat and alcohol reeked from every part of him – his dark greasy hair, his clothes and his breath all exuded a sickly aroma. I gasped and pushed my clenched fists against him, but the sheer size of the man made my struggle futile.

His broad hands traced greedily around my waist, but I continued to fight against him, my voice stuck in my parched throat as panic continued to spread.

"Now, now, m'lady…" he chided, the tart gust of his breath billowing in my face. "Be a good little whore."

I turned my face as far away from his as possible, and he sank his mouth over my exposed neck with ravenous impatience. My breath hitched in disgust, and in a moment of fear, my hand flailed out in panic and scratched him forcefully across the cheek. He grunted in pain, but didn't move, instead biting down hard against my throat. I cried out in pain, the sharp agony overbearing my weak body, and I hung limply against my aggressor, helpless.

His breath blew heavily against my neck as his hands travelled downwards, and just as his fingers brushed coarsely against my thighs, the ship lurched violently to the side, the heavy motion colliding both of us against the wall. The thunderous boom that accompanied was deafening, and reverberated loudly throughout the wooden framework of the entire ship.

"Shit!" he exclaimed bewilderedly, staggering to find his footing.

Light entered the room faintly as someone from the upper deck opened the hatch-door. "Cannon fire! Get your arse on the gundeck, Johnny!"

"Bloody hell," he murmured under his breath, stumbling forward and awkwardly lumbering out of my cage. He was gone by the time I'd clambered to my feet, leaving the gate ajar, and when the hatch was shut once more, I was returned to darkness. I heard the voices above calling and hollering even rowdier now - orders from the captain, curse words, obscenities, roaring and yelling. Chaos surrounded me as a second cannonball struck the ship, yet somehow in my disorientation I managed to grab onto the iron bars that surrounded me and use them for support. I held on for dear life, unable to do anything with my foot still secured to the floor.

The ship steered sharply to the left, and my body was flung to the side, but I managed to keep my grip on the slippery metal and remained upright. The sound of boots on the decks above me became louder as the pirates darted in all directions, probably manning the gun or cannons or whatever artillery this ship was equipped with. I really knew nothing about warships.

"FIRE!" I heard the order from somewhere above, and an array of explosions echoed deafeningly around me. My heart pounded in my chest as I could barely hear the sound of my own thoughts.

For one bittersweet moment, I believed that this could have been an attempt from the unknown ship to rescue me – yet my stomach sank at the reality of the situation. If that were true, they wouldn't be firing at us. I was going to die; there was no other way…

Another crash shook the wooden framework, and light filled the room. Almost immediately, seawater began lapping into the body of the ship, and I stared in silent horror as the freezing water soon soaked my feet. A crude, sloshing sound accompanied each sway of the ship – until it finally collided against something solid, and stabilised itself.

I had no idea what was happening.

More voices filled the air overhead; more footsteps thudded in a frenzy from above. They were boarding the ship. Oh god.

My fingers trembled in terror, assuming the worst. Shouts of pain echoed from the main deck, confirming my fears. They would kill us all. I sank against the floor, forgetting the water pooling around me, and rested my forehead against my clenched hands, wanting to make myself as small as possible. This couldn't be happening. Could this get any worse…?

The hatch door to the upper deck opened suddenly, and I could hear footsteps upon the stairs. The boxes of cargo surrounding me concealed my position somewhat, though I knew I couldn't hide forever. I heard laughter from the crew as they raided all of the goods on board, breaking open crates and moving heavy chests, shouting in rowdy thrill when they found items of worth. They sounded just as boisterous, if not more so, than the crew that had captured me.

Despite their unruly and wild behaviour, they ransacked the cargo with utmost speed and efficiency. Their hectic yet orderly conduct was a marvel – but a terrifying marvel at that. The water continued to rise, now at knee-level, which explained the reason for their haste. I struggled against the chains as my fear became paramount. Even if they left me be, I would surely drown in the rising water. The ocean would kill me without hesitation – my only chance of survival would be I threw myself at their mercy.

I moved to the front of my cage, peering through the bars at the far end of the cargo hold. Their voices had ceased – the sound of footsteps on the main deck growing quieter.

No. No! They were leaving!

"Aiuto! Aiutami, ti prego!" I screamed for help, resorting to my native tongue in panic, before the air in my throat ebbed away. I couldn't think – my body shivered in terror as my lungs felt like dead weights inside my chest. Water pooled around my limbs and reminded me I would soon drown. I wanted to hyperventilate, but I couldn't even breathe. I pulled at my chains, and the metal shackle bit into the flesh of my ankle, but I could feel no pain – only fear. Cruel, suffocating fear.

None of the pirates had heard my pleas for help – or so I thought.

A figure moved soundlessly between the crates; the only noise of his approach was the steady swishing of liquid as he waded through the water towards me. He appeared much calmer than the men who had invaded all of the crates only minutes ago. He was heavily furnished in leather armour, yet the most unsettling part of his approach was the fact that his hood completely obscured his eyes.

"Non mi faccia del male…" I pleaded quietly, and he stilled, listening to my voice as though reconsidering, but saying nothing. I swayed blearily, the dehydration and exhaustion apparent in my fatigued appearance. The water was at my hips now, and I struggled against the restraint on my ankle, making it plainly obvious that I couldn't move. I saw his mouth tilt in the outline of a smirk, and he entered through the open gate, wasting no time as he grabbed my submerged leg and lifted it as high as the chain would allow. I swallowed to calm myself down, uncomfortable with the forceful manner in which he touched me, but allowed him the freedom to inspect the shackle with his hands. He pulled at it to test its leniency, which caused me to recoil and wince in pain at the bruising on my ankle. I hissed through my teeth in discomfort.

"Shh…" He hushed me, placing a hand on my hip to hold me still, though I wasn't sure whether he was attempting to console me or shut me up. I watched him withdraw a familiar set of keys – bloodstained keys – from a strap on his belt, and he fumbled with the shackle until the right key slotted effortlessly into the lock, freeing my leg.

He stood up slowly, water dripping from his sodden shirt. His calmness baffled me, yet somehow it soothed my panic. Before I could protest, he lowered his arm behind me and lifted me off of my feet and above the water. One hand supported my back whilst the other was placed behind my knees; he held me as though I was an item to be looted, but I was too dizzy to care. I could barely hold my head up to stop it from dangling backwards. My tongue felt sticky and too big to fit inside my mouth. Everything part of me felt ill.

After wading through the steadily rising water, we emerged on the main deck and the daylight was garishly bright. I felt almost blinded by colours; the awing blue of the sky, the brilliance of the yellow sun, the bronzen sheen of wood; everything seemed all the more vivid after being imprisoned in darkness for… oh god, how long? I couldn't think.

I lifted my arm weakly to shield my eyes, the brightness searing my vision and pounding heavily inside my head. I heard voices and words being exchanged, but felt too tired to formulate their meanings in my head.

"Christ, sir, where the hell'd you find that?"

Silence. Then more words. "There's a brig on the lower deck. She was hidden behind the crates of lumber."

"She alright, sir?"

"…No. She's not."

I felt his voice reverberate through his chest, and his arms supported my lax body with relative ease. I could feel myself on the verge of passing out; my limbs felt weightless and a lightheaded rush flooded my mind every time I inhaled. The world felt as though it was spinning underneath me.

I could hear hushed voices now, above me and everywhere at once. I felt as though I was being lowered onto something solid. I didn't even have the strength to open my eyelids.

"Oh Edward, what've you done…"

A dark, breathy laugh interrupted the rebuke. "I've made an investment." There was his voice again – deep, reassuring. Smug.

"You've found a new pet, more like."

Brief laughter filled the air again. It was a bold, daring laughter, with an apparent disregard for the other man's disapproval. I didn't like it.

"Clean her up. I need to give old Captain Henry a parting gift."

I heard a voice shout from a distance away. "The quarterdeck, Captain! He's ready to talk!"

A hushed sound of amusement was followed by the gruff clearing of his throat. "Have her ready for me in the morning, Lyford."

"Aye aye, captain." The sardonic humour was apparent in the older voice, and before I could recognise what was happening or who was touching me, I was lifted up by a pair of meaty arms and taken somewhere darker, below the deck. The sensation was lost from my head as my exhaustion finally took its claim on my body; slowly, very slowly, I surrendered to it, and fainted in the arms of a stranger.

"Oi, Captain Jennings!"

The throng of pirates parted to make way for the approaching figure, their riotous uproar ceasing in deference to the hooded-man. Upon the floor was a hunched shape, bloodied and beaten, and as the poor man lifted his face, his weary eyes sharpened in realisation.

"Edward Kenway. I shoulda known you were behind this-" his voice was cut off as the aforementioned pirate slapped him sharply across the face, silencing the entire deck. He lowered his hood, mouth turned down fiercely as his dark eyes narrowed upon the man at his feet.

"Pleasant day to you, too, Henry. Here," he tossed a brassy item onto the man's lap. "The keys to your ship."

The injured man stared despondently at the keys, before returning his furious expression to his assailant. "What good are these now – they're useless to me!"

Edward snorted in derision, leaning down to stare at the man squarely in the eyes. "You know, I thought the very same thing when I discovered that I had not one, but a dozen sealed chests; none of which can be unlocked by those keys. Your first mate lied to me."

Captain Jennings sneered in disdain. "Well, ain't that a pity…"

"For you, perhaps." Edward gripped the smaller man by his shirt and lifted him up. Jennings groaned in pain, clutching the open wound on his stomach; blood soaked his clothes, a sure sign that his life was soon to expire.

"Tell me - why have locked chests on board that cannot be unlocked? Who did they belong to?" his voice escalated with each word, his temper finally breaking under the other captain's lack of compliance. Henry's mouth contorted into a snigger, blood seeping from the corners.

"Can't barter with a dyin' man, Edward. I ain't tellin' you filthy mutts a thing."

"As you wish…" Edward countered almost immediately, his fingers slowly tracing against the man's sodden shirt. His fingers plunged into the gaping bullet hole on the lower right side of his chest, sinking deep into the open wound, causing the man to roar in agony. His face contorted in anguish, and his yell receded to a pitiful moan as the offending captain twisted his fingers deeper.

"Where were you sailing to?"

No answer. Edward pushed his fingers further.

"Where were you sailing from?!"

Deeper again. Jennings spat into the captain's face, before his head fell to the side in a fit of pained coughs. Edward growled darkly under his breath, letting the man fall to the floor in a bloodied heap. He clutched the wound again, fresh blood spilling over his battered fingers.

"Any final words, Captain Jennings?" Edward wiped the ruddy spit from his face. The injured man keeled over, blood spluttering over his lap as he coughed fitfully. Finally, he quieted, his eyes fixed to the floor.

"K-kill… her…" Henry's breaths wheezed painfully from his chest.

"Excuse me?" Edward's brow furrowed in interest, kneeling down in front of the aggrieved captain. "Speak up."

The man said nothing. Edward inhaled fiercely, suddenly overcome with patience as the dying captain gasped for air, his lungs rattling with blood and fluid. His hands trembled as he tried to push himself upright. "Kill the woman… b-before she kills… you."

An intrigued grin broke Edward's menacing countenance; he stood upright and ran a hand through his damp, flaxen hair, clearly unfazed by the warning.

"Throw him overboard."

He turned away from Captain Jennings, deciding that the man had served his finite purpose. "Let him sink with his ship." With no more words of grievance or farewell, Edward stepped down from the quarterdeck and headed towards the captain's cabin, which was situated at the stern.

The crew clambered wildly around Jennings' struggling figure, yanking at whatever flailing limbs they could grasp; his cries of protest were subdued by the uproar of the assailing men, and moments later, his body was heaved unceremoniously over the side of the ship. All but one pirate turned to watch Edward depart, and after a brief minute of consideration, followed him.

"Sir?" he opened the cabin door, finding the captain already sprawled comfortably in a mahogany armchair, drink in hand. Edward glanced apathetically towards his crewman, nodding his head as he took an indulgent swig from the mug.

"Is everything okay, sir." The inquiry was not an innocent one, as his tone did not lift curiously as most questions were asked. The captain's brow quirked slightly, though he showed no other signs of acknowledgement. He continued to gulp down the dark liquid, leisurely taking his time to respond. He placed the cup on the table beside him and traced his finger around the circular rim, deliberating over his words.

"We've accomplished a raid without any casualties, the ship's rations are refilled, we have a plentiful bounty on our hands… and my cup is full with pilfered wine. Things could not be better."

"Yes sir, but-"

"But what." His tone sharpened, denoting that his patience was waning.

"Well, I… I've never seen anyone speak to you with such audacity without getting a slit throat… and you just let him go. What gives?"

A faint, almost nonexistent smile shadowed the captain's lips as he downed the final sip. His gaze roamed impassively over the younger man, barely a pirate in his naivety, and a thoughtful intensity hardened his face.

"Mercy is a weapon, not a weakness."

The boy looked at him oddly, but his expression remained unchanged. "I don't understand, sir."

"If you're lucky, you'll never have to." His tone deepened with those vague words – the finality of his voice entailing that he was finished with the conversation.

"But-"

"But nothing, boy. Tonight we celebrate. I suggest you get an early start on the liquor before the rest of the crew."

"And what of the girl?"

Edward remained silent, his penetrating gaze searching the boy for an ulterior motive in his seemingly harmless question. His strong jaw tightened a fraction.

"None of the men are to touch her. Do I need to make that any clearer for you?"

The boy simply nodded and left the cabin, hastily warded away by the captain's daunting threat. Edward smirked for a brief moment, before pouring himself another glass, and leaned back languidly into his chair. He raised the honeyed, blood-red liquid to his lips and let it sit in his mouth for a moment, savouring the acerbic taste, before he swallowed self-indulgently.

"Tomorrow is when the fun really begins..." He murmured the words softly into the cup of wine, the surface rippling under the heat of his breath. His eyes closed contentedly, downing yet another mouthful with merciless abandon.

What does Edward have planned, I wonder. ;)

If you enjoyed, please leave a review. Until next time, my friends!