The Bravest There Ever Was
By: Verin Mystal
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original ideas/characters of this story.
Summary: When Lord Kirkland came to Mary's door looking for someone to look after his young charge for the day, she knew it to be the perfect opportunity to prove her worth to the man, who might even one day employ her in his large estate. Besides, how hard could it be looking after a spoiled rich boy? If only she knew.

"Stop struggling, Alfred!"

"I don't want to!"

"You're filthy and Lord Kirkland insisted you take a bath tonight!"

"I don't want you to give me a bath! Only Arthur's allowed! Not some girl!"

Mary sucked in a breath and silently prayed for patience so that she wouldn't cuff the boy upside the head. She could only imagine what Lord Kirkland might do if he found out.

"You haven't bathed since the night before. You must bathe tonight if you are to remain clean and healthy!"

It had been a day since she herself had bathed, and already she felt grimy.

"No." Alfred fell to the floor in a heap at the foot of the stairs. "I ain't goin'!"

Mary frowned at him, her face heating up.

"You are going to get into that bath, or so help me I will drag you up those stairs."

Alfred hmphed and crossed his arms, fully intending on remaining planted to the floor.

"Fine then."

Mary lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the boys waist and with a mighty heave, lifted him up from the floor. She grunted and felt surprised at how heavy the boy was.

Alfred didn't make the carrying easy, and flailed wildly.

"Let go, let go!" He shouted, kicking and wriggling. "I don't want a bath! I'm clean!"

"You were outside climbing all over that tree!" Mary shouted, steadily walking up the stairs with great effort. "You're taking a bath and I'll have no backtalk!"

Alfred whined loudly, wildly protesting and wriggling to no avail. Mary finally crested the stairway and walked down the hall to the washroom, where she stepped in through the door way and dropped Alfred to the floor. Quickly, she shut the door behind her and stood before it with her arms crossed.

Alfred glared at her. "I don't want a bath."

"You are such a child." Mary admonished, hoping to get a rise out of him. "You're old enough to wear adult clothes, and yet you're afraid over a little bath!"

"I'm not a kid!" Alfred shouted, and jumped to his feet. "And I'm not afraid!"

"Oh?"

Alfred clenched his fists and turned to the bath, which was now lukewarm from sitting for so long. With a deep breath, he quickly stripped his clothes off and jumped into the tub, silently hoping he got water everywhere so Mary would have to clean it up.

"So you're not afraid after all?" Mary exclaimed and picked his clothes up from the floor to fold them neatly and stack them beside the porcelain wash-basin. Reaching for the soap, she knelt at the edge of the tub and scrubbed the soap in her hands until a thick white lather.

"I'm not afraid," Alfred insisted with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't want to take a bath. I'm clean enough, aren't I?"

Mary grasped his right hand and inspected his finger nails. Dirt covered the underside of his nails. Frowning, she dropped his hand and touched the sensitive skin behind his ears. Alfred giggled suddenly and jerked away.

"Stop that!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "Arthur does the same thing!"

"Your fingernails are dirty, as is the skin behind your ears."

Mary raised her soap covered hands.

"Dunk your head."

Alfred stood shivering with only a bath-sheet wrapped around him, his soaking wet hair plastered to his scalp. Mary picked up a smaller white sheet and scrubbed at his head until his hair was now only damp and sticking in every direction. Picking up a set of clean nightclothes, she set them on a small table.

"Dry yourself off and get dressed. I'll have no dawdling now." Mary admonished and stepped around him to crack open the tiny window to vent the steam from the room. "Once you're dressed you'll take up the hornbook and practice your letters, just as Lord Kirkland instructed."*

A loud whine came from Alfred, who stood still with his feet planted to the wooden floor. "I hate that thing!"

Mary frowned, resisting an annoyed sigh she wanted to heave loudly, and shoved the window open. Male voices came from outside, all yelling and laughing, arguing and cursing at each other.

"I don't know why I always gotta practice my letters… I know them all-"

Mary jerked her head to the side. "Shh!"

Alfred grew quiet, the frown still plastered on his face.

"Someone's outside…" Mary leaned closer to the window, hoping to make out what the men were saying. "There must be at least three or four men outside."

She pulled away from the window, drawing the curtain together over it and turned to face Alfred. Before she could open her mouth again, three short knocks came from the front door.

"Don't answer it." Alfred said suddenly, his voice oddly serious for a young boy.

Worry grew into a tight ball within Mary's chest, causing her heart to beat faster, her throat to run dry. Drawing in a deep breath, she willed herself to calm down and think about the situation as logically as possible.

"Get dressed." Mary stepped around him, dropping all formal etiquette. "Meet me in Kirkland's bedroom."

She left Alfred without waiting for his answer and walked to the bedroom, ignoring the next set of knocks coming from the door. Opening Lord Kirkland's bedroom doors, she stepped in and stepped to the closet, jerking it open to find the flint-lock long rifle standing propped against a stack of old, leather bound books, its muzzle nearly four feet long for accuracy while hunting. Picking the rifle up, she gathered the bag of firing supplies from the floor and started the tedious process of loading the rifle, priming the black powder, loading lead ball into the muzzle of the rifle with the ramrod, ensuring the charge was well placed and set the hammer to full cock. The rifle now loaded, she turned and found Alfred standing in the doorway of Kirkland's room, staring at her.

"Get behind me!" She whispered fiercely. "Can you reload this weapon?"

Alfred looked at the floor, ashamed.

"We'll be fine." Mary put on a brave face and shoved him to the bed. "Now hide under there!" Alfred frowned, and looked as if he were debating something internally, but pressed his lips together instead and crawled under the bed.

The knocks grew louder and more violent until finally the door was kicked off its hinges and landed on the floor with a mighty ithud/i. Mary jumped, startled at the loud sound, and stepped deeper into the room, holding the rifle up and aiming at the top of the stairs.

"You two check the downstairs." A male voice, gravely and holding the slurring accents of the south and Caribbean. "I'll head on up."

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Mary stepped back into the closet, and held the rifle ready to fire. She silently thanked her father for insisting she learn how to load and fire a rifle despite her vocal complaints.

"We know you're here~!" Came another voice, sounding lighter in tone, but heavier in the accent. "We just want to talk to 'ya!"

Mary frowned and clenched the gun tighter.

"Lord Kirkland sent us!" The same voice declared in a fake reassuring tone. "Said he was mighty worried about you being here and all…"

A head appeared at the stairs, and Mary raised the rifle, lining her sights up. A trembling shiver coursed through her. She'd never killed a man before… much less an animal.

"Just come out and talk to us~"

She clenched her jaw tightly shut, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

The explosion was small but punctuated, filling the entire two-story home with sound and smoke. A shout erupted, and a body hit the floor. Hands shaking, Mary frantically started reloading, priming the muzzle with powder, getting the bullet ready, yanking the ramrod from its tiny compartment over the muzzle of the rifle-

Calloused, grimy hands gripped her head and threw her to the ground by her hair. Screaming, she dropped the rifle and collapsed to the floor in a heap.

"She…she shot me." A man's voice exclaimed from the top of the stairs. "That bitch actually shot me!"

"You found 'em?" Came another voice from downstairs.

"Naw, just some girl."

A hand gripped her hair again and yanked upward, dragging to her feet. Mary screamed again and reached up to claw at the hand.

"Where's the boy?" A voice ordered. "Tell us and maybe we'll let ya' go?"

Mary opened her eyes and found the man she shot sprawled on the floor, both hands covering a gaping, bleeding hole in his belly. Another man stood directly beside her, his face smeared with dirt and unshaven stubble. He was missing several teeth, his ears pierced, and smelled like the harbor at noon.

"P-pirate…" Mary half sobbed, turning away. "Your…your those pirates!"

Two more men appeared at the top of the stairs, one kneeling to check over the wounded man while the other stepped closer to her.

"That's right." The other man confirmed. "And if you don't tell us where the boy is we might decide to…release our frustrations on you."

Mary couldn't help a choked sob at that. "I…I…" She trembled and felt hot tears staining her cheeks. "I'll never tell."

To think of these men getting their hands on that boy… on Alfred… something deep in her gut recoiled violently at the thought.

"Let's just see how long you keep that attitude up while I'm ripping-"

The large four-coaster bed suddenly lifted into the air, lingered, and flew at the pirates at the foot of the stairs. The men shouted and stepped away, releasing Mary in their surprise. Mary scrambled away and crawled into the closet, frantically searching for anything to fight the pirates off with.

"What the- that's him!" One of the men shouted. "That little brat!"

The man who previously threatened Mary with rape blanched. "…Are you serious? But…he just lifted a bed that…that weighed far more than him!"

"Don't you ever touch her again!" Alfred glared at them, his blue-eyed blazing. "And what did you do to Arthur!"

"Oh…Arthur?" The man with the gravelly voice smirked. "I'm sure him and that Captain are getting to know each other very well right about now."

"What do you mean?" Alfred's glare grew confused. "Arthur would never let someone capture him!"

The men laughed suddenly, their voices mocking. "Well look at him, so much faith in the good Captain Kirkland 'aye?"

Mary shoved the books and old things away in the closet, trying to desperate find anything that might help their favor. Pushing aside a stack of books, she reached into a dark corner. Her hands touched something cool and smooth. Curling her hands around it, she pulled it into the dim light, and found it to be the scabbard of an old sword. The varnish long worn away, the metal decorations beginning to rust.

"Captain…?" Alfred questioned, but narrowed his eyes instead. "What did you do to him!"

"Oh we haven't done nothin' to him…not yet anyways." The gravelly voice said. "Now come on over here and maybe we won't hurt the girl again hm?"

Alfred glared at them, his face growing flushed with anger. Stiffly, he turned around, gripped the heavy oaken dresser with one hand and lifted it above his head with little hesitation.

"I swear…if you hurt him-"

"We didn't hurt him!" The high-pitched voice exclaimed in a rush. "It was the Captain, not use lowly deck-hands, see?"

Alfred's grip tightened on the dresser.

The gravelly voice suddenly tore a flint-lock pistol from his waistband at the small of his back. Alfred flung the dresser at them. The gravelly voice man side stepped, leaving the other the face the full force of the heavy object that crashed into him with a deafening explosion of twisting wood. Alfred froze at the sight of the gun.

"Ah, not so brave now huh?" The man spat, taking a step forward. "Now get over here-"

He paused a moment, a look of pain crossed the man's face before he collapsed to the floor. Mary stood directly behind him, the bloodied sword in her hands.

Alfred rushed forward and picked the flint-lock pistol up, finding it to be loaded and primed. He turned to stare at her, his eyes worried.

"…Are you okay?"

Gasping, Mary dropped the sword to the floor and smothered her face with her hands.

"No…no-no-no…Why is this happening?"

Alfred carefully set the gun on the dresser and stepped closer to her. "We have to find Arthur. We have to save him."

"Save him?" Mary exploded, flinging her hands away from her face and into the air. "You're just a little boy! And I a girl! How in the world can we save him when we hardly saved ourselves?"

Alfred frowned and took her hands into his own.

"I'm going to save him. And you're coming with me."