A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first published fanfiction on the site, and I'm not a native English speaker, so bear with me if some of my wording is grammatically incorrect. Other than that, I was saddened to see how few fanfics on Black Sails there were on this site (or at least enjoyable ones), so with the third series launched two days ago I decided to start my own. I've got five more pre-written chapters in stock but I have to wait until the third series is over before starting to develop on the material, so I'll try to keep the publishing rate at once per week. That being said I'm still on break right now and my studies take a lot of my time, so sadly I cannot make any promises.

27.07.2016 Update: So, I'm back in the game after a six-months hiatus. I fully apologize for the delay my writing has taken - I'm in medical school, and it is beyond time-consuming, so I'm enjoying my holidays as much as I can.

A lot of things can change in a few months, though, and that includes my standards in terms of writing and characterization, not to mention my state of mind after the Black Sails finale this year. This is why I've decided to give this fic a reboot.

As things stand right now, this is a BillyxOCxVane fanfic. I'm thinking in the long run, though, so bear with me if nothing quite substantial happens with either of them yet. I really enjoy the original series, and though I don't intend to spit out a perfect replica of the original plot there are quite a few elements that I want to respect instead of trampling them for the sake of my fic.

As for the updates, I'm truly sorry to say that they will not be regular. As I've mentioned earlier, I'm in med school and as soon as the classes start I will be forced to push this project into the background. As fun as it may be to write this fic, I fully intend to prioritize my personal life.

But let's not talk about unpleasant things yet. I'm still on holiday, and until then I'll be updating with relative regularity. The latest chapter has received a few reviews, so as weird as it looks the responses will be down below this first chapter of the new version!

Anyway, enjoy!

Nassau was just beginning to cool down after a warm day when the stranger stopped by the tavern belonging to Eleanor Guthrie.

The sun was beginning to set, and as it followed its course towards the horizon, the place filled in with more and more men that came for a good meal and a drink, commonly accompanied by flocks of whores whose laughter resounded in the crowded room. Mr. Scott was behind the counter as usual, tending to the customers' needs, and occasionally glancing to the wooden door at his right. Lately, Eleanor was less and less seeking his counseling when handling business, and that made him slightly nervous. He was proud of her work, of course, and he was always amazed at her resourcefulness, but sometimes he feared her temper and her pride that could lead to dangerous situations.

He sighed as he filled another tankard and, upon putting it down, he walked up to a new customer.

"What can I get you?"

He hadn't really paid attention to their face in the first place – those things tended to slip when you worked during a long time. But his head shot up when he heard a feminine, fair voice answer him.

"Not a drink, thank you. I'm looking for information."

The woman in front of him had sand-colored skin and fine features, subtly sprinkled with freckles. Her brown hair was assembled in a braid that ran over her shoulder, crossing several necklaces that hung around her throat. She wasn't wearing a dress but masculine clothes, with a piece of red, worn out cloth to hold her pants against her slender waist, the shirt she was wearing attenuating the rest of her silhouette. Prominent was the sword hanging from a leather belt fastened above her hips; but the most striking thing about her was her look. She had eyes that seemed to grasp every detail around her, acute and hard to look away from. She leant towards him, pressing her elbows on the counter as she asked:

"Tell me, where would I find a captain willing to hire me?"

Mr. Scott had to blink a few more times before getting past the surprise of such a demand. It wasn't common for a woman to embark on a ship as anything else than a temporary passenger, especially on pirate ships. For safety reasons, of course – pirates weren't exactly what you called well-behaved, and a life of theft and violence didn't attract a lot of women – but also because they were considered to bring bad luck with them. If anyone else had asked him this, he would have advised them to drop the idea and look for something less hazardous to do with their time.

But there was something about this one that made him hesitate. Perhaps it was her complexion – an inimitable mix of tan and filth that she shared with most sailors on this island –, the calluses punctuating the skin of her hands, the countless scratches on the handle of her weapon, the wear marking her overall attire, every little sign that showed that she wasn't new to the sea. Or perhaps it was simply the instinctive sense of danger that woman gave off. Something Mr. Scott, over his years of dealing with bloodthirsty pirates by the Guthrie's side, had long learned to recognize.

He carefully formulated his answer.

"It would depend, miss," he said. "Do you have anyone to back you up? The crew who brought you on this island, maybe?"

She made a face. "I came here with the help of a merchant. I left my last crew in the waters of Tortuga."

"Why come here, then?" It would have been far easier to find someone to hire her in a place she was already acquainted with. Going through the pain of such a maneuver defied common sense.

"I heard some interesting things about this place," she evasively replied.

Mr. Scott didn't bother lecturing her on the thoughtlessness of her actions and instead reconsidered the situation. On this island, there were captains with wills strong enough to overcome men's superstitions, he knew that for a fact. But those same captains wouldn't hire a woman just because she asked and said please. Since she didn't have a ground to stand on, it was very likely an unsolvable case.

He was pondering how to nicely break the news when a man came lean on the ledge next to her.

Black tufts of hair emerged from under his hat, framing a round, ruddy face. Small brown eyes shone above his arrogant smile. "Hey there, lady," he drawled. "Heard you're lookin' for a crew?"

The brown-haired woman gave a tight smile. "Correct. I would have liked to consider my options–"

"Why 'consider options' when I'm right here?" the other cut her. "Devon Walker, of the Diver. If it's a captain you wish for, here he stands!"

He spread his arms out in a theatrical stance. The woman's expression barely disguised her unease. Mr. Scott refrained from making any comment; if anything, that kind of proposal was to be expected with such inquiries. As long as the pirate didn't spark any trouble, he would gladly let him show her what this town was really made of – it got the point across better than any speech he could have given.

"I'm grateful for the offer, but really, I don't want to make hasty choices," the stranger insisted. In vain: the man's grin only widened, and he got slightly closer to her.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't tell me I'm scaring you? Look, me and my men, we're nice with the ladies," he said as he gestured toward a table where several pirates were seated, some of them in the company of giggling prostitutes. A certain number of them were attentively watching their captain, not without amusement.

Slowly, the woman's smile faded away. "You're not scaring me," she said softly, her gaze still lingering on the animated table.

Where Mr. Scott could discern the hint of a threat, the pirate only heard an invitation. "Glad to hear that, sweetie," he laughed, and his hand left the surface of the counter to wander on the woman's side – lower than the barkeeper could see. Her head immediately snapped to the side, setting a sharp stare on the man.

"Remove your hand."

Mr. Scott decided it was high time to stop all this – partly because he knew where this kind of situation usually led, but also because of the deadly calmness emanating from that single order. It put his every instincts on edge.

"Sir, you heard the lady," he warned. "Please do as you are told."

The pirate's face contorted in a mask of rage. "Did I fucking talk to you, mosshead?" he snarled.

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. Mr. Scott couldn't care less about being insulted – God knew he had been called worse – but his inability to defuse the situation by himself was more than worrying.

He was about to call O'Malley when a deep, gravelly voice rose.

"If I were you, I would back off while I still got the chance."

Three stares turned to the owner of said voice, and the barkeeper's anxiety reached new heights. The man that had just spoken had sharp features and green, piercing eyes; despite his nonchalant stance, there was some kind of unspoken warning in the way his body rested on the very edge of the bar – as if he were ready to jump in a fight at any given second. Knowing what Mr. Scott knew of him, that was probably the truth.

For a brief moment, the offender appeared to be taken aback; soon enough, though, he regained a semblance of composure.

"What?" he sneered. "Want her for yourself?"

The other didn't respond to the provocation. Instead, he retrieved a cigar from one of his pockets and began examining it with deliberate dispassion.

"Pirate women are not quite common," he stated. "In fact, there are so few that not a single one of them goes unnoticed. If you come across one of them, chances are you've already heard of her."

Hearing those words, Mr. Scott internally cursed himself. Seeing the young woman walk to his counter, hearing her candid questions, he had only been worried about her safety.

He had not asked her name.

"Now, in those waters, two names come in mind," the green-eyed man pursued. "Neither is harmless. However, one of them is known for never walking on her own. As for the other…" he trailed off, lifting his gaze from the cigar as a look of disbelieving horror progressively claimed the other man's features.

"Do you still want to keep your hand where it is?"

It was at this moment that Devon Walker darted away from the woman as if she were a burning piece of charcoal and walked off with a disgusted glare. Mr. Scott would have finally allowed himself to breathe, but the most unpredictable captain on this island had not left the place yet – and it seemed like he had found someone to rival him in infamy.

Charles Vane raised a lighter and cautiously applied its flame against the end of his cigar. He sent a meaningful glance to the barkeeper, who returned him a wary stare before he took a few steps away and did his best to pretend he wasn't overhearing their whole conversation.

"Don't thank me," Vane said.

The woman, who had not moved an inch since the beginning of this predicament, did not look amused by the comment. "I could have taken care of him myself," she replied tersely.

Vane exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke. "I don't doubt it. Only you would've had to face his entire crew in the end. There are better ways to make yourself known in Nassau, even for someone like you. What business do you have here, Red Fury?"

Said aloud, the nickname bordered on the ridiculous; but Mr. Scott wasn't ignorant of the dark tales usually associated with it. No one could hear them being whispered repeatedly under the tavern's vaults and laugh freely at the naming afterwards.

"I prefer Audrey," the woman cringed.

"Doesn't answer the question."

The so-called Red Fury sighed. "My last captain liked to throw my name around a little too much. He wasn't that famous himself, you see, so he found it easier to threaten merchants with my wrath rather than his own. Made them surrender more easily," she grumbled. "So, as it happens, I'm on the lookout for someone whose fame could overshadow mine."

If Vane was interested, his face was not selling him out. "You live up to your reputation."

"Do I?" Audrey wondered wryly.

"Jumping from crew to crew is a dangerous thing," the pirate stated. "Let alone for a woman. Being renowned for it and still managing to get hired is, more than anything else, what makes you a mystery."

From the corner of his eye, Mr. Scott could see the woman give the hint of a joyless smile.

"More than anything else?" she repeated. "That's nice to hear. Although I don't see how that's a mystery. I'm perfectly capable as both a sailor and a fighter."

"And yet loyal to none," Vane pointed out.

Audrey clicked her tongue. "Because I never settle down? Come on, that's not something you can judge from gossip only. At any rate, most pirates out there are only loyal until they feel like their personal interests are threatened."

"Not you?"

The woman marked a distinct pause. "As long as I sail with a crew, as long as I trust its captain, I'm as loyal as one can be. My wandering tendencies have nothing to do with opportunism, so to speak."

Silence stretched between the two pirates. Mr. Scott threw a short glance in their direction; Vane was intently staring at his companion, who was herself contemplating the bottles on the shelf. Finally, she spoke in a low voice.

"If I've satisfied your curiosity at last, may I now ask for your name?"

The pirate straightened up, drawing one last puff from his cigar. "Charles Vane, of the Ranger," he introduced himself.

The woman slowly nodded, the edge of a smile tugging at her lips as she took the information in.

"I happen to be searching for capable new recruits," Vane went on. "I think our interests may overlap. You?"

"Sounds like it," Audrey replied levelly.

The pirate captain did not show any sign of displeasure at the mild response. Instead, he tilted his head, in a seemingly understanding fashion – one of the last things Mr. Scott would have thought him capable of.

"Don't want to make hasty choices?" he asked, parroting her very words. She appeared to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, no, it's not about that. But you'll excuse me if I find it hard to believe that it was so easy," she said.

"To have an offer?"

"To meet the one captain on this island who is not only famed in his own right, but has a woman in his crew already," she rectified. "Makes one believe in fate, doesn't it?"

"I don't," the pirate answered. "Do we have a deal, then?"

The Red Fury sent him a challenging smile. "Aye, captain."

The man didn't utter a word, but approval could be read in his eyes as he turned on his heels to walk away from the counter. Right before she followed in his wake, the woman spun around briefly. "Thank you for everything, sir," she said with a malicious wink at Mr. Scott.

And as he watched her leave, he began to wonder if she was really thanking him for what insignificant help he had provided – and if not for that, why bother with him, the black man, the educated houseboy that they all overlooked until the Guthrie gave him a voice? He shook his head. That mattered little in itself. What he had to worry about was how one of the most ferocious captains on the island had now a living legend under his command.

He sighed once more. What will Eleanor have to say about this?

Audrey always found it amazing how much people could stare at her without ever realizing how noticeable they were – at least, when they did try to be any discrete.

She thought that perhaps she would have expected more from the famously cunning quartermaster of the Ranger; but then again, she knew better than anyone how deceptive rumors could be. From the corner of her eye, she could see the lanky man dart quick glances in her direction, nervously fidgeting with the thin hairs of his chin as he strode across the dust of Nassau's streets by her side. She had almost stopped paying him attention when he finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry – you, you're… Are you really…?"

"The Red Fury?" Audrey completed. "Apparently that's what I've been called, yes."

It wasn't really a feat to have guessed what had been tormenting him all the way from the Guthrie's establishment. In his defense, his captain had been anything but clear in his instructions, back in the tavern.

Jack, this is Audrey Langdon, he had said. She's with us now. Take care of her. After what he had taken off, muttering about business he had to tend to – who knew what it involved. One thing was certain, though: Charles Vane did not disappoint.

Audrey was not used to easy hirings. Before or after that fateful day, in Port-Royal or in Tortuga, whenever she sought a new flag to sail under she always had to face several rejections and at least one salacious proposal like the one earlier. And those who accepted her in their crew indiscriminately took their time to weigh out the advantages of having a woman among their men and the unavoidable drawbacks – or at least, until now.

Vane had been singularly quick to judge her. Quick to recognize her, too – which proved that he was far from the simple-minded brute that stories depicted. But that doesn't mean he isn't wild in any way. Wild was the word. Barging uninvited in a situation that was already difficult to begin with, making another man stand back with a threat that wasn't quite his own, then making a choice over only a few well-placed questions – who in their right mind would do such a thing? A fine move he had made here, though; in this tavern, a crossroad where every captain hoping to trade with the Guthrie household had to present themselves, someone was bound to notice her as she was talking to that unsuspecting bartender. And Vane surely wasn't the only man on this island capable of handling her in his crew.

But he had been the first to extend a hand. And as far as she knew, he was the only one yet to have accepted another woman in his ranks, a woman who at this very moment was walking by her quartermaster's side, ever slightly staying behind him – a lethal shadow following in his steps.

Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny. Brains and brawn, an odd pair almost as notorious as the man leading them. Audrey had forever been curious about them, but now that she had the two right before her eyes, she was not sure how much interest she could safely show. The hat Bonny wore thrust on her reddish hair, hiding a good chunk of her face, did nothing to alleviate the coldness of her stare on the young woman. It didn't feel as though Audrey could do much about it, so she simply ignored it and prayed that the other would not bring about any unnecessary conflict.

Right beside her, Rackham seemed to finally overcome his astonishment to remember he was the greater authority here – and that as such he still had a few responsibilities to assume.

"So," he began, "I suppose you had a role to fill on the last ship you sailed on."

"I was at the helm most of the time," Audrey answered.

The man's eyebrows shot up before he could dissimulate his surprise under a polite cough. Well, at least he hasn't laughed, Audrey mused. Few people ever believed her fit for the task of holding the steering wheel, even less so manipulating it to keep the ship on a regular course. Not that she would resent them for it.

"We'll see what Jones has to say about that," Rackham said carefully. "We're stationed for now, and I can't really say how long we'll have to wait before sailing, so you should have time to talk it over. I'd prefer to warn you, by the way – our crew isn't among the nicest… Well, we are pirates, of course, but–"

"Thank you for your concern, mister quartermaster." It was best to cut him short before he started tangling himself in his own words. "I assure you that I'm used to dealing with this kind of things," she stated, a tinge of weariness in her voice.

Rackham's tense shoulders seemed to relax a little at those words, though not completely. He led them through the sandy alleys traced between wooden barracks and bare tents, past the blurred line separating Nassau and its outskirts. Audrey did her best to repress the sourness that spread in her stomach as they approached their destination.

Come on, it's not the first time you meet a new family. Ease off.

But it was easier said than done. No matter the years or the experiences, she simply could not fully erase that instinctive dread which seized her at the idea of confronting a full pirate crew, not knowing what she would be faced with. But fear is alright, she told herself with a shudder. Fear would keep her alive. And better fear than…

Audrey let go of her reflections as she reached the outline of a small clearing, scattered crates drawing a jagged row of seats around a fire. The flayed carcass of a pig roasted on a spit, the breeze carrying its savory smell as well as laughter and lively conversations – the latter of which quieted slowly at the appearance of the trio. After ensuring that he had most of the men's attention, Rackham patted Audrey's shoulder while clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen," he called out, "let me introduce you to our newest recruit, miss Audrey Langdon."

The first reactions came after a few seconds of stunned silence – nervous laughs, incredulous whispers, each one louder than the last.

"Audrey Langdon?"

"The Audrey Langdon?"

As Audrey was growing increasingly conscious of Rackham's hand on her, one man stood up lazily.

"Did I hear right?" he said. "The Red Fury has decided to join us? Let's have a look, then."

He planted himself in front of her. Dusk outlined his features in shades of purplish blue, while the nearby fire added golden hues to his skin, highlighting his hairless scalp. His eyes wandered over her body, appraising her as they would have with a piece of meat; it took all the strength Audrey had to keep a neutral expression. At last, he whistled appreciatively.

"You sure are a pretty one," he declared. "No scars... Are you even sure you're a fighter?"

God knew she wanted to slap that smirk off his face. She could have done much worse than that. Instead, Audrey forced her lips into an amiable smile.

"If you have any doubts, then why not go and see for yourself?" she said in her sweetest voice.

The man's hand tugged at the hilt of his sword.

"I'd be more than happy to do that..." he started, but suddenly Rackham had stepped between the two of them and was talking very fast and very low.

"Hamund, I'm not sure that this is a very good idea."

"Why that?" Hamund protested. "We have to see what she's capable of."

As always, a voice chanted in Audrey's mind. She shivered as once again she crossed looks with Hamund above Rackham's shoulder.

"Yeah, I understand that, but if half the stories I heard about her are true..."

Those words filled her with strange feelings – bitterness at the mention of her ill-acquired fame, gratitude for this man who was obviously not worth much as a brawler, and yet had not hesitated to intervene – whether he wanted to spare her from this or just to avoid trouble in the crew. It was really too bad that she had to reject his help.

"Mister quartermaster," she called.

Rackham glanced at her, his eyes uncertain. She smiled in the most reassuring way she could.

"Don't worry. No killing and no maiming," she promised. "Just a bad wound to his self-esteem. Does that sound fair to you?"

Seeing that he still hesitated, her smile disappeared and she leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"Sooner or later I must prove my worth to these men. Let it be there and now before I have to face more challenges."

At last, Rackham seemed to accept her terms and stepped back. He still shot her a defiant look.

"Alright then. No killing. No maiming."

Audrey nodded. "Count on me," she said as she drew her sword.

She shivered in anticipation. It had actually been a long time since her last true fight, and as much as she disliked this kind of display, the man ought to know better than to provoke her. They all do. She watched as Hamund pulled out his own weapon and raised it in the air. Suddenly, he slashed at her; their blades instantly met, to separate and meet again, again and again with a metallic clatter. The crew watched, cheering, but she no longer heard them; nothing else existed but him, her, and their clashing weapons.

It didn't take long for Audrey to figure out Hamund's style of fighting. It was aggressive and rash, more fit for a raw melee than for a duel like this. With almost each attack came an opening, in which she could have slipped, had she only wanted to kill him. She narrowed her eyes at him while parrying another hit. Defeating him cleanly was going to be a difficult thing. She couldn't risk hand-to-hand fighting while he still had his sword at his disposal, so either she had to take it away from him, or find another way to shake him off. One that didn't involve spilling his guts out.

Old memories bubbled up in her mind, flashes of the days when she was still learning the ways of the sword. She was reminded of one lesson in particular.

Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing with your feet? Steady, girl! Whoops, and now you're dead.

The bruises she had gotten on that day had been especially humiliating, but they had taught her well. The shadow of a smile crossed her face as the strategy started to form in her head. And she finally started attacking.

The shift was instantaneous. Audrey successively assailed him from the right and the left, up and down, leaving him no time to regain his composure and take the offensive. Faced with such relentless assaults, the man could only grunt and back down. And at the moment she felt a fault in his footing, she struck him harder than ever before.

Hamund fell like a rock on the sand. She didn't waste time and crushed his right wrist under her foot, her blade just a breath away from his throat.

"So, mister Hamund, are we done here?" she asked, her blood rushing through her veins, heart palpitating. She hardly heard the crew shouting and cheering around her, intoxicated with the delightful feeling that came with the win, the one you could savor in your foe's eyes. The man shot her a venomous look.

"Fuck you," he hissed.

Audrey would almost have sneered. Typical. She took her foot of him before sheathing her sword and turning to face her quartermaster.

She was a bit saddened to note that his eyes were even more defiant than they originally were. However, she did not really have the time to ponder on that feeling before she felt an arm latch around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey! Red Fury! Is it true that you're as strong as ten men?"

"Yeah! Can you show us that too?"

Red Fury. That god-awful nickname, bound to follow her wherever she went. Could they ever understand how heavy it was? That for each time it had earned her some tranquility, it had attracted twice the trouble? And how much it had cost her. No, there was no way they could get it – and no way she could hold it against them. So she complied, once more, to show them what they wanted to see; and she laughed, as if the ache in her cheeks could make a lie more convincing.

It was only by chance, as she was carried away by the throng of enthusiastic sailors, that Audrey spotted the faint light emitted by the tip of a cigar. There, a pair of eyes was glistening, reflecting the dancing flames as they watched from the shadow of a tent. And even in the dark, she would have never failed to recognize the curve of this strong nose and those razor-sharp cheekbones. Charles Vane returned her an unreadable look before turning around to slowly walk away, fully vanishing from sight. Decidedly a man of few words, Audrey thought.

But it got back to her, now, that she was not the only one who knew the weight of a name.

"She sure got a warm welcome."

Jack looked up from his plate. Anne Bonny was watching the arm-wrestling match taking place beyond the campfire. The men were so packed it was nearly impossible to see Audrey Langdon competing with another crewmember at the center, each sitting on a wooden crate.

Fire threw flickering lights on Anne's beautiful face, tainting her greenish eyes with an orange glow. The shadow cast on her features by her hat only seemed darker. She looked wild and that was part of what Jack loved her for.

"Darling, I think we can agree that no one could take her seriously unless they saw her in action. Not with that overblown reputation," he half-heartedly snickered. "But once you've witnessed her skills against a man who would never back down against a woman, it's impossible to doubt them. That left the men in awe," he grimaced at his food. "I suspect it'll only get worse as the night goes on."

"That bitch is nothing but a fucking sack of trouble."

Jack glanced back at her. Anne now wore that scowl she kept for things that rubbed her off in a particularly wrong way. He felt the need to soothe her– he was the only one capable of doing so, after all.

"Well, I guess you could say that of our beloved captain, too. And of me – actually, since we're pirates, every one of us is…"

"You know what I mean," she cut him abruptly. "She comes and she goes whenever the fuck she pleases. She thinks she can just fight some cunt and get off the hook just like that. And no one would dare to say anything about it."

Jack frowned at her words. "I'm sorry, are you including yourself in the 'no one'?"

The redoubled intensity of her glare informed him that he shouldn't have asked. He nodded carefully.

"Alright, I understand the problem. But in any case, I'm sure Charles will know how to deal with her."

He was surprised to hear a sneer from his lover. "Him? He knows how to deal with headstrong fuckers, that's for sure. No wonder when he's the worst of all. But since when is he any good with women that are too much like him?"

It did not take much effort for Jack to understand what she was alluding to – who she was alluding to. He spat a few curses under his breath. How could I miss this?

But there wasn't much he could do. Not now. Besides, the Red Fury was only a minor inconvenience compared to the plans he had so thoroughly laid out. And she couldn't go as far as to meddle with them.

Could she?

It was late night when Audrey was finally allowed to regain the sanctuary of her lone hammock. In the end, she had managed to trick herself into having a good time. Men, she thought. They were so strange. So many had been afraid of her, afraid of what she could do, some of them more hurt in their pride than anything else, but still wary of her and her blade. And from her point of view, that was the right way of thinking. But for a reason or another, the men she had spent the evening with had been anything but that. They were fascinated, she guessed; easily forgetful of the danger they were in. Or maybe they just have steel-hard faith in their captain and his judgement.

She had just settled in a comfortable position when she finally heard the voice she had been waiting for.

"An arm-wrestling contest, really?"

She didn't bother opening her eyes.

"All I did was giving them what they expected. Don't hold it against me."

She heard the sound of footsteps on the sand, coming closer. The same voice continued talking.

"A duel is alright. Build doesn't do all the job when it comes to blades. But this? You should know better than to show off like this. They could turn on you at any given moment. When they decide they've had enough being beaten in strength by some twig of a girl."

Audrey groaned. She didn't have the energy to argue at this hour of the night. She shifted in her hammock to look at the girl that stood on the sand below. Even in the dark, her blond hair seemed to shine, framing her harmonious face and cascading on her blue dress. Her clear eyes were full of reproach, but it took more than that to impress Audrey.

"They've all heard about me already," she sighed. "Disappointing them could have been more dangerous than… showing off. And I'm no twig," she protested.

"You're not quite bulky either," the other replied tersely. But she ended her reproaches here. Audrey folded her arms under her head, wriggling a bit before saying:

"So we're here, now, huh? The real stage. Is it alright for me to be with them?"

"It should be," the girl answered. "But given the timing, I don't think you'll ever sail under this banner."

Audrey frowned. "Oh." All these fascinating meetings, and it would still be fruitless in the end. "Are you sure about that?"

"Certain."

"Nothing I can do about it?"

"Nothing you'd be wise to do," her companion replied. "Trust me."

"Always," Audrey grumbled. After all, she was the one who knew. As for herself, well, she was the one blindly wandering, measuring herself to what this world could throw at her. She set her eyes on the stars above. "Thank you, Cosima. For, you know, standing in the sidelines."

Cosima waved off her hand dismissively. "I've never been one to meddle in." She paused. "Good luck," she finally said, her tone solemn.

And, for the first time today, Audrey produced an honest – if derisive – smile.

"Who needs luck when I have you?"

A/N: And there we go. For the "old" readers, feel free to comment on the changes you've noticed. For the "new" ones, first impressions on the OC, the writing, the characterization and the hints I've given you about the overall plot are very welcome as well. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated!

To my reviewers:

AmalieNico: I'm glad you like those stories! Her background was not realistic enough to my current taste, though, so it will be subject to a few changes, but it's still good to know that the first version was appreciated. And you're right - Billy is really too cute for his own good. I'm really sorry about the late answer (and update) and hope you're still on board!

minstorai: I'm glad to see we have some common references, though I hadn't imagined Cosima as an Evelyne Brochu doppelganger. And yeah, Flint is the storyteller - only rivaled by his new quartermaster - but maybe a slightly tipsy Audrey would have a different opinion ;) Hot Carrot Man is a thing I've picked on Tumblr, so I can't take credit for that one! Thanks for the review and my apologies for the late response and late update, I hope you're still following!

greaserslady: well, I've not only decided to continue this story, I'm rebooting it. Hope that's not a source of disappointment for you! It wasn't so much writer's block but rather a cruel lack of time and availability But thanks for your concern, though! To be honest, I was just a few clicks away from deleting this story when your review came in - not kidding, it felt like destiny itself had sent me a message. So you've pretty much saved it from the dark corners of my laptop, and I can never thank you enough for that. Hope you're still following!

NationOfThieves: I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far, although things might remain platonic for quite a while between Vane and Audrey - but that doesn't mean there won't be any sparks. Thanks for your concern, I hope you're still on board with the new version!

Thank you all for reading, and sorry once again for the six-months delay! The reviews and follows that still came during the hiatus have really been a blessing, for this story and for me as well. See you next time!