Angelina awakes with pain that feels excruciating. Almost every part of her body screamed suffering.

She stretches her neck, satisfied by the feeling as it cracked. When she had already returned to her senses, particularly the sense of agony on her chest, she realized that her hands had been tied.

Both hands were fastened high above her head. Her toes were bound by a rope, too. She scuffles and whimpers in pain as her chest wound throbs and her limbs go sore.

Though despite aching embraces her whole body, she questions to herself, where am I?

"Damn these bonds!" she complains. She sharply moves her limbs, trying to escape once more.

"Don't, miss! You'll get hurt even more," says a tiny voice coming from far across.

She hastily scans the small space, but there was no one about. Suddenly a little girl, about twelve, appears from the darkness across her.

Silently, the girl treads towards her, "Don't be scared! I'm here to look after you."

Despite the little girl looking ever so harmless, Angelina doesn't let down her guard.

"Well, the good news is that you don't have to. No one had to. Who are you, lass?"

"Oh! I'm Lula. I'm the sister of Louis..."

"Who's Louis?"

"My older brother. He's our gunner!"

"Lula, I don't give a—" Angelina stops her sentence midway. "Hey, Lula? How old are you, lass?"

Lula smiles joyfully. Her excitement is evident on her face. "I'm eleven, miss! I be turning twelve in a few days. I'm giddy!"

"That's amazing, Lula. I wonder what present you adore..." said Angelina, befriending the girl.

"No! You don't have to."

"It's fine, Lula..." she smiles. "Look, Lula...I need your help. Please."

Lula kneels in front of her, both the girl's hands wrapped around the metal railings of Angelina's brig. She looks at the woman with guilt.

"I cannot free you from those bonds."

"Why not?" Angelina cries to her.

"The other crew members would burst. They wanted you inside this brig. I mean, Esme, not us."

"Goodness! Who on the bloody seas is Esme?"

"I can—"

Angelina shuts her eyes closed when sunlight hits her eyes. The door had opened, revealing a tall figure.

When he speaks, Angelina immediately recognizes him and rolls her eyes. "Lula?"

"Captain! She's awake, she's awake!"

"Aye, she is," he casts a sideways glance at the woman. "Lula...go join the others."

"Aye, Captain!"

The stranger from earlier walks toward her brig. There wasn't a single noise as his heavy boots could be heard as he walked. He stops across her prison, scrutinizing Angelina.

The pirate woman looks away, her breathing still heavy and challenging. She's had enough of getting her pride down today.

The man grabs his keys from his pocket and unlocks the brig, quietly entering the small space. "Apologies for bringing you here."

She looks at him. "Am I supposed to say it's fine?"

"No, of course not," he frowns. He kneels across Angelina's frail figure. "Does it still hurt, your wound?"

"I'm well," she sharply replies. "You can now unchain me, yes?"

"I'm afraid I can't at the moment," he looks up to her. "You surely are a colossal pain in the arse."

"Colossal pain?" she blurts out, face scrunched up. "I cannot fathom."

"Apologies. Let me rephrase that for you," he says. "You're one dangerous woman. With or without a sword. With or without a stab wound."

"That's more like it," Angelina mutters. "Anyway, I'm not grateful."

"You're reckless, too."

"Reckless?" she chuckles. "You brought me here when you don't even know who I am or what danger I might bring to you. Who's reckless?"

"Your pride makes you reckless, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Aye, I do."

Angelina draws her face inches closer to his face with immense force, but he doesn't budge one bit. She examines his features in a search for hints of mocking.

Still, all the Spanish Captain finds is an undeniably stunning pair of brown eyes. She scoffs upon realizing what she'd thought. "You certainly do have the power of bringing me too much displeasure, whoever you are."

He lets out a light chuckle, his perfect, white teeth visible to her as he spoke. "I've lots of names. 'Tis up to you however you would like to address me."

"I guess I'll call you a scumbag, then," she smiles. "That's non-negotiable."

"That's a bit harsh, even for you," he slowly buries his hands in his side pockets as he walks around. "Captain will do. Or Edward, if your pride cannot bear it."

Edward. So, Edward is what he's called. And Edward has to know. He knows. He must be aware of how egoistic the woman is and that every word he says brings her more indignation.

If she was free of those bonds, then she would have tackled him to the ground. Hard. And painful. "No will do."

"Suit yourself," he agrees, once again kneeling in front of her. "No will do as well as to unchaining you."

"That's unacceptable! Who do you think you are, depriving me of my freedom!"

"I'm Captain of this ship, apparently."

"Like you are, Edward."

So-called Edward plastered a smile on his face. A smile not of mocking but of amusement. Something genuine; something of a curiosity.

He mutters to himself, "Maybe she isn't such a haughty woman after all."