Title: Swashbuckle!
Author: littlesage
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for a bit of swash and a lot of buckle. (Whatever that is.)
Pairings: W/T, along with the possible appearance of a few other BtVS characters.
Feedback: Is awesome.
Summary: AU. Pirates, ladies (and gentlemen?). No spoilers.
Disclaimer: The storyline is mine, the characters Tara Maclay and Willow Rosenberg don’t belong to me in any way, shape, or form.
Note: Character’s probably won’t seem like themselves for a bit…wait for it. I don’t pretend to know what I’m doing. One thing I do know about is sailing, but outside of that, this may end up an incomplete piece of crap. Inspiring, I know.
**Thoughts are in italics**
Chapter One
y. 1837, Spring
Tara Abrams had never stepped aboard a ship in her life. Not even that raft her brother had crafted from driftwood when they were children. It wasn’t cowardice—no, she rather considered it common sense to stay away from large, deep, rushing bodies of water that had the potential to take away her precious mortality. Especially since she didn’t know how to swim.
But now, as she stood on the swaying docks, gazing at a ship that dwarfed her size as a mountain does an ant, she realized that this was one of the unfortunate repercussions of marrying a man of the sea. A captain, to be precise.
As if on cue, the man in question made his way solidly down the gangway as if it weren’t threatening to throw his large frame into the sea. Tara swallowed nervously at the sight, but tried to look calm and confident. He smiled broadly at her, displaying gleaming teeth and pleasure at taking his new wife aboard the Red Gale.
“Darling,” he spoke in a clipped English accent, “Why haven’t you come aboard yet? Your trunks are stowed away and the lady waits for your inspection…she is to be your home for the next four months, you know.”
Tara looked up at him through clear blue eyes, searching for a way to get out of having to live on a pile of wood floating in the ocean. “I d-do know. Would you help me on? I don’t want to fall off—w-wouldn’t be a good start to our honeymoon, that.” She said the last bit with a small smile.
The sailors milling about glanced in slight surprise at her upon hearing her quiet, lilting Irish accent. She ducked her head and took Cedric’s offered arm; the two making their way onto the ship known to be among the Navy’s elite.
The first thing Tara noticed was the amount of men on the ship. She knew there were no women were in the Royal Navy (or any of her Majesty’s armed forces for that matter), but she hadn’t prepared herself for the overwhelming amount of testosterone.
Muscle, muscle, and more muscle passed briskly around her as she tried to take in her bustling surroundings. Cedric’s large hands clapped suddenly on her shoulders and he proclaimed in her ear from behind, “I’ll let you get acquainted with the other lady of my heart. I’ve some charts to attend to.”
Tara began to protest, “B-but, couldn’t you just…wouldn’t you rather I—”
“You’ll be perfectly safe, darling. I’ll meet with you later.” And with that, the captain pressed a sloppy kiss to her check and turned about to his cabins. Tara immediately drew her arms about herself in a protective position and backed away from what seemed to be the hub of activity to a large wooden pole. She breathed deeply and tried to shut out the sounds of masculinity around her…the grunts, groans, snorts, belches, and obnoxiously loud outbursts.
Tara was so busy shutting out the sounds around her that she didn’t hear someone call loudly above her, “Aloft coming down!” By some serendipitous force Tara glanced up at the last moment to see a flash of red coming towards her on a rope much too quickly. She didn’t have time to move, but her face contorted in an expression we’d now coin as, “Oh, shit.”
The descending figure landed unsurprisingly on their mark, tumbling unpleasantly into the blonde newlywed and knocking her onto her petticoats. The offending figure scrambled back quickly, only to come right back to help the lady to her feet. It took Tara a few moments to regain her bearings and realize that the boy in front of her was in the middle of some large diatribe.
“—and if I had looked, instead of just bellowing on down like the stupid cuss I am I wouldn’t have offended you so, m’lady. I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. Are you okay? Did m’boot hit you? If it’d please m’lady I’ll take double the lashes, I swear I’ve never done this afore—”
“Lad. Laddie,” Tara interrupted, seeing that the rant may not have an end, “I’m f-fine, see? No harm done. J-just knocked my head a bit.”
Green eyes widened before her as they took in the woman fully—the endless blue gaze, the lengthy blonde tresses, and the dress that framed her curves beautifully. This was the captain’s wife.
The miscreant fully realized the gravity of what he’d just done, and kneeled. “I-I am so sorry, Lady Abrams. I’ll clean my things out of the hold, and clear off immediately.”
Tara reached out and touched the boys shoulder. Boy? He’s as tall as I, yet more slender than any boy I’ve seen his age...
“Laddie. Get up. You’ve n-nothing to worry about. I’m not hurt; you just startled me is all.”
The boy searched her face for signs of trickery or cruelty—things he was used to aboard this vessel. He found nothing but a captivating half-smile and honest eyes. He smiled and said simply, "You're Irish."
Tara's half-smile broke into a mischievous grin as she ruffled the boy's short red hair, "So are you."
“Willy-boy, ya lout, what’re you doin’ crouched afore the Lady? Eh? Tryin’ to get a look up a skirt for the first time?”
Will shamefully dropped the gaze he had found himself transfixed in, and readjusted the belt to his over-sized breeches distractedly. “Once again, my Lady,” he mumbled, “my deepest apologies.” And with that, he turned about quickly before Tara could reply—she lost sight of his red hair and small body through the mass of activity within moments.
Tara’s brow drew into a frown as she considered what just happened. Though not used to the brunt malice of seafaring men, she was not a stranger to cruelty, and what she had just seen disturbed her.
She shook her head, clearing the thoughts of the boy away and instead regarding the funny way the ship seemed to be drifting away from the dock.
Well that’s queer.
Willow pretending to be a boy, Brilliant!! can't wait for your next update 
