Sorry for the long wait everyone, I've been kind of bust. But here ya go, enjoy! Oh, also, go check out my fictionpress acout: thefiddlingwriter.

Chapter 3

Briar whirled on her heel, a murderous look on her face. She stalked from the room.
"That's it?" Francis called after her, "After all of this, your just going to leave?"
"Leave?" Briar said, her voice very low, "Who said anything about leaving? I'm going after her."
"Take us with you," Bash declared, sounding final.
"Absolutely not," Briar shook her head, "You would only slow me down."
Francis moved forward. "I order you to take us with you. If we do not go with you, then you do not go at all."
Briar narrowed her eyes at the blonde man. "Well then, little princeling, I suppose you'll have your wish. I admire your courage."
Francis smirked at his brother, who rolled his eyes.
"We leave in an hour," Briar announced, "Pack lightly, bring weapons, and say your goodbyes. Meet me in the stables."

Exactly one hour later, Bash arrived at the stables. Briar was already there, stroking the horse. The dapple mare was already saddled and Briar had hooked up her bag.
Silently, Bash began to saddle his own horse.
When he was finished, he turned to Briar. She was watching him silently, arms crossed.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," Bash said.
"It's alright. It's a common misperception about pirates. Many people think that we're dirty, lying thieves. But we're really not. Most pirates follow the Pirate's Code. It's our rule book."
"No batter what you follow, you're still thieves," Bash shot back.
She laughed, "I suppose we are. I don't do it for the money though."
Before Bash could ask what she did do it for, Francis walked in.
"You're late," Briar comment.
"Oh, give me a break," he responded, "I had to come up with an excuse for not only myself for my mother but also for Bash to feed my father."
Briar didn't reply, but swung up onto her horse. "I saddled yours already."
Francis hooked up his bag and then the two brothers mounted their horses. They raced out of the stables, Briar in front, her fiery wave of hair flying behind her.

They rode at a fast pace for the rest of the afternoon, only taking short breaks for the horses to rest.
They arrived at the port side town that evening.
They walked their horses through the hustle and bustle of the dimly lit town.
Once they got to the docks, Francis made his way over to the postmaster.
"I'll give you twenty franks ifs you make sure these horses get back to the palace safely," he said.
"Why should I trust you?" The port master said. He was a gruff looking man of average intelligence.
"Because I am the crown prince of France," he replied quietly. At this the port master uncrossed his arms, straightened, and then began to bow.
Francis stopped him, looking around to make sure no one hard seen. "There's no need for that," he said, "You'll get the horses there safely?"
"I promise your highness," the man assured as Francis slipped him twenty gold Franks.
He motioned to Bash, who made his way over, the here horses in tow.

After Bash had handed over the reigns, he looked up. Briar was preparing a rowboat. Her ship was anchored at the mouth of the bay.
"Get in boys!" She yelled at them, "Or I'm leaving without you!"
The two brothers shared a look before rushing over and hopping into e rowboat. Francis tumbled slightly in a most undignified manner. Bash and Briar chuckled.
The pirate gripped the oars and rowed.
"Do you need any help?" Francis asked politely.
Briar's only response was a raised eyebrow and a glance in his direction. She went back to staring out across the moonlight ocean.
Soon, they arrived at the ship.
There was a shout from above them, "Captain's back! Lower the ladder!"
A role ladder dropped down, splashing into the water beside their small boat.
"After you," Briar inclined her head to the rope ladder.
"Brother, you're the prince, you go up first," Bash cleared his throat.
Francis rolled his eyes and grabbed onto the ladder, placing his feet on the wooden planks, hand over hand on the ropes.
When he poked his head over the side of the ship, a gruff voice said, "You're not the captain."
"Uh, no," Francis responded tactfully, "I'm Francis, Crown Prince of -"
However, he didn't finish his sentence because a strong hand etched around and yanked him into the boat. A knife was pressed to his throat.
"I know who you are," the man said, "What I don't know is why you're. And you're going to tell me or I'm going to slit your throat and throw you off the side of this boat."
In front of Francis was a a hulk of a man. Clothed in only trousers and a bandana around his bicep, the man was very threatening.
Before Francis could respond, Bash was thrown to the floor next to him.
"And you are?" another man asked. He was smaller and had a shirt on, but with his razor sharp falchion sword, he still looked pretty threatening.
He pointed the sword at Bash who sighed. "How inconvenient," he muttered.
Just then, someone swung from a rope, very gracefully, onto the deck.
There Briar stood, hips cocked to one side, an eyebrow raised, her green eyes watching them amusedly.
"Flint, Bones," she said, "Lower your weapons, they're here under my protection."
Immediately, the two sheathed their swords and stood at attention.
Francis offered Bash a hand and the latter stood, brushing off dirt.
All of the other men on the ship were watching them.
"Boys," she shouted, "Francis and Bash will be traveling with us for the next few months. We sail with the first tide tomorrow morning."
"Where are we going, Captain?" a man shouted.
"Ask me in the morning, sailor," Briar responded.
Except for the two men that so rudely greeted the royals when they arrived, every one went back to work.
"Francis, Bash," she said. "Meet Flint, my first mate." She gestured to the man without a shirt.
"And Bones, my master gunner."
The two inclined their heads but did not acknowledge them in any other way.
Briar crossed the deck, ascending the stairs to the quarterdeck.
She stood behind the wheel, watching as all her sailors prepared to set sail the next day.
Bash and Francis stood behind her. Without looking back at them, she said, "While on this ship, you are no longer the heir to the French throne, nor are you the king's bastard. You are no more and no less than any other man. Most likely I will not need it, but if I ask you to work, you will work. Do I make myself clear?"
With her back to them, she didn't see their nods of consent, but she sensed it.
"Good," she sighed, "Let me show you to your cabin."
She led them down the stairs onto the main deck. Under the quarterdeck, there was a small door. Briar swung it open and ducked inside, motioning for the two to follow.
A short hallway was dimly illuminated by a lantern, the candle flickering.
Briar motioned to the door on the left side. "You two will have to share a room. Generally, that is my first mate's room, but Flint prefers to sleep with the crew. I'm right here, across the hall. Get some rest, and do try to get your see legs quickly."
With that, she opened the door to her cabin and disappeared.

Francis and bash entered their cabin. A single bed was in the corner. At the end, was a sea chest for clothes and trinkets. A was basin was across the room. There were candle lanterns around the room.
There was a nock on the door. Bash went to answer it, pulling it open to reveal a tall, skinny man.
"Cap told me to ask you whether you would prefer a hammock or another cot," he stated.
"A cot, please," Bash replied and the man left.
A few seconds later, he and another man were back, carrying a cot between them.
Dragging it in, they re-arranged the other bed so the two were next to each other, with the chest between them.
"That one there was the Captain's bed," one of the men stated, pointing to the bed that was already there, "This one was in this room. But Briar prefers to sleep in a hammock, so she moved her bed to this room and the other one to storage."
"How fascinating," Bash replied, feigning interest. The only part he focused on was the fact that Briar slept in a hammock, which he found quite strange.
The two sailors left, leaving Francis and Bash alone.
"I hope she know where we're going," Francis muttered as they prepared for sleep.

Mary woke slowly, her head pounding. Looking around, she saw she was in a cell. It was lit with only a single candle, so she couldn't see much else of her surroundings. Grimy seawater thinly blanketed the floor of her cell. She felt a slight rocking and she figured she was in a boat.
Mary, Queen of Scotland sighed and closed her eyes.
Briar, Francis, Bash, one of you. Please find me soon.