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Fic: The Pirate Queen and the Governor's Daughter; House, M.D.; Cuddy/Cameron; AU; PG-13
Title: The Pirate Queen and the Governor's Daughter
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing: Cuddy/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: If there's one thing Governor Cameron has taught his daughter Allison to do, it's to hold her head high. No matter what the circumstances.
Notes: Written for Prompt #255 of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cuddy_fest: "The Pirate Queen abducts the governor's daughter. But Allison never wanted to be a governor's daughter anyway. Sexy swashbuckling adventures ensue." This is fluffy, silly crackfic.
If there's one thing Governor Cameron has taught his daughter Allison to do, it's to hold her head high. No matter what the circumstances.
She holds it high now, defiant and dignified, as she balances on the edge of the pitching ship's deck. She does her best to ignore the wretched man waving the cutlass around in her face, although she does manage to notice that he clutches a cane to steady himself on his wooden leg. If she kicks it out from under him, he'll topple right off the side of the deck and plunge into the sea. It's tempting, except that alas, she's far too kind to do such a thing. Even a ruffian pirate with a scraggly growth of beard and a suspicious scent of rum on his breath deserves compassion, after all. He probably grew up in poverty, she imagines, his mother an alcoholic barmaid and his father a brutish laborer. He turned to a life of crime after his leg was mangled by a carriage as he begged as a child on the streets, or no, maybe in the war, fighting valiantly but ultimately succumbing to gangrene because of the buckshot he took to save the life of his commanding officer. Yes, she likes that version better. A poor, forgotten veteran, fallen on hard times. So tragic, really!
Why, he deserves pity, not anger. Or maybe he doesn't really deserve pity, because he's still a scoundrel with breath so laden with alcohol he could varnish an entire carpenter's shop full of wood with a single cough, but she's such a goodhearted person that she'll give it to him anyway. Because that's what the Governor's daughter does: extend pity to the pitiful. Maybe her noble example will change his heart, and he'll renounce his buccaneering ways and dedicate himself to caring for sick orphans. Or perhaps not, but at least he can be guilt-stricken on his deathbed when he realizes that he's lost his chance at redemption.
It's a comforting thought. And in any event, he isn't threatening her very convincingly.
"Off the plank with you!" he cries, but what's clearly intended to be a terrifying scowl keeps turning into a smirk. He calls to another crewmember nearby. "Come on, Foreman! Don't just stand there like a useless clump of jellyfish. Poke at her a bit!"
Foreman simply crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.
Another crewman asks, "Won't the captain get angry if you damage the captive? They say she's worth an entire chest of gold doubloons in ransom."
The peglegged pirate makes an exasperated face. "Chase, you idiot, you're not supposed to tell her that we won't hurt her. I wanted to see what she looked like after a good dunking! Now you've ruined everything."
"First mate's coming," warns Foreman in a whisper.
"Damn." The peglegged pirate hastily sheathes his cutlass. "Wilson!" he says, smiling innocently as the first mate approaches. "We were just giving the young lady a nice whiff of fresh air. Good for the lungs, you know."
Wilson sighs and turns to Allison. "The captain would like to see you."
***
Wilson opens the door to the captain's quarters and gestures for Allison to go in. Inside, a whale oil lamp flickers on a table, but it's still dark enough that she has to blink several times before her eyes adjust.
The first thing she notices is the scent in the air. There's the sooty odor of burning oil, of course; the tang of wood warped from exposure to cold sea spray, not exactly surprising; but perfume? And not just any perfume, but the good kind: the sort of delicate, flowery eau de parfum her mother used to import at enormous cost from France.
Before Allison can hazard a guess to explain such a puzzling incongruity, she sees a figure rise from a chair in the darkest corner of the room. The figure moves forward into the circle of light cast by the lamp, and Allison's mouth drops open in astonishment.
The captain is a woman. A woman dressed in long leather boots, a swirling black skirt, and a bright scarlet blouse revealing so much of her bosom that Allison blushes like a timid child.
"Miss Cameron," says the woman, "I'm Captain Cuddy. Please, sit down."
Allison collapses backwards onto a bench. Since when did women become ships' captains? Pirate ships' captains, no less?
"You may be a hostage on my ship," says Cuddy, "but you are to be treated as a guest. If I hear that anyone in my crew has laid a hand on you, I'll have them flogged."
"No one has touched me," Allison replies, finally finding her voice. "Although the man with the pegleg was rather rude," she adds as an afterthought.
Cuddy laughs. "Ah, yes. Seaman House. His manners may be rusty, but he's the finest navigator on the high seas. No one can guide a ship through shoals the way he does. I assure you, he means no real harm."
Allison stares at Cuddy, entranced by the flashing gold rings and the dangling pearl earrings. She notices a hat with a jaunty yellow feather hanging from a peg on the wall. She always wanted a hat just like that, but her father would never allow it.
"For your own protection and privacy," Cuddy continues, "you'll be given a blanket to sleep on here in my quarters. You'll return to your father soon, never fear."
Yes, her father. The father who would have a fit of apoplexy if Allison dared to wear gaudy jewelry or flash cleavage like the captain. The father who wants her to marry someone respectable and become a society matron. The father who never lets her do anything exciting.
She frowns. "May I ask how much you're demanding for my ransom?"
"A thousand pieces of eight."
"I'm worth far more to you as a guide than a hostage," she declares.
"What do you mean?"
"My uncle owns a fleet of trading schooners. There's an island where he buries contraband until he can bribe the customs officers to smuggle it into port. I know exactly where it is, too. If you take me there, I'll split the money with you."
Cuddy looks intrigued, but she shakes her head. "If we abscond with you instead of returning you to your father, he'll have the entire Navy after us."
Allison arches an eyebrow. "You're the Pirate Queen, aren't you? Isn't being chased part of the fun?"
***
Allison -- except they now all call her Cameron -- insists on being treated like a regular crewmember. When Cuddy asks why, she answers that it's because she wants to earn everyone's trust. The real reason, however, is that she wants to prove to herself that she can do something -- although by "doing something," she hadn't exactly had "swabbing the deck" in mind, especially under Foreman's disdainful eye.
But she also learns to climb the rigging and look through a spyglass, and she even gets Wilson to start teaching her swordfighting until Cuddy intervenes, angrily lecturing them about how Cameron won't be any use at leading them to buried treasure if she puts an eye out fooling around with blades. Wilson shamefacedly gives up, but Cameron flirts with Chase until he agrees to practice with her when Wilson isn't looking. House mocks all her efforts, but when he finds Cameron abovedeck one moonlit night, he teaches her how to navigate by following the North Star.
It's Cuddy she studies the most. She envies her flair, her power, but especially her freedom to do as she likes. Cameron wants to be Cuddy someday. But as she catches herself staring at Cuddy's ample cleavage, she realizes that that isn't quite all she wants. She also wants to have Cuddy someday.
It's not a very governor's daughter-like thing to be thinking, she realizes.
Then again, no one ever asked her if she wanted to be the governor's daughter.
***
When they raid the slow-moving merchant ship that May, Cameron sneaks onto the boarding party's rowboat, a dagger clenched between her teeth. She returns carrying the other ship's flag as a souvenir; with an exaggerated curtsy, she presents it to Cuddy, who laughs and seems to forget that she'd sternly forbidden Cameron to take part.
The crew dances drunken jigs late into the night. While House and Wilson sing bawdy sea shanties until they grow hoarse, Cameron staggers back to the captain's quarters, arm-in-arm with Cuddy.
This time, she doesn't sleep on a blanket on the floor.
***
It's six months before Cuddy finally asks her outright, "There never really was any buried treasure, was there?"
"No," admits Cameron. "I just wanted an adventure."
The governor's daughter adjusts her hat with the jaunty yellow feather, and they begin to map their next raid.
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing: Cuddy/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: If there's one thing Governor Cameron has taught his daughter Allison to do, it's to hold her head high. No matter what the circumstances.
Notes: Written for Prompt #255 of the
cuddy_fest: "The Pirate Queen abducts the governor's daughter. But Allison never wanted to be a governor's daughter anyway. Sexy swashbuckling adventures ensue." This is fluffy, silly crackfic.If there's one thing Governor Cameron has taught his daughter Allison to do, it's to hold her head high. No matter what the circumstances.
She holds it high now, defiant and dignified, as she balances on the edge of the pitching ship's deck. She does her best to ignore the wretched man waving the cutlass around in her face, although she does manage to notice that he clutches a cane to steady himself on his wooden leg. If she kicks it out from under him, he'll topple right off the side of the deck and plunge into the sea. It's tempting, except that alas, she's far too kind to do such a thing. Even a ruffian pirate with a scraggly growth of beard and a suspicious scent of rum on his breath deserves compassion, after all. He probably grew up in poverty, she imagines, his mother an alcoholic barmaid and his father a brutish laborer. He turned to a life of crime after his leg was mangled by a carriage as he begged as a child on the streets, or no, maybe in the war, fighting valiantly but ultimately succumbing to gangrene because of the buckshot he took to save the life of his commanding officer. Yes, she likes that version better. A poor, forgotten veteran, fallen on hard times. So tragic, really!
Why, he deserves pity, not anger. Or maybe he doesn't really deserve pity, because he's still a scoundrel with breath so laden with alcohol he could varnish an entire carpenter's shop full of wood with a single cough, but she's such a goodhearted person that she'll give it to him anyway. Because that's what the Governor's daughter does: extend pity to the pitiful. Maybe her noble example will change his heart, and he'll renounce his buccaneering ways and dedicate himself to caring for sick orphans. Or perhaps not, but at least he can be guilt-stricken on his deathbed when he realizes that he's lost his chance at redemption.
It's a comforting thought. And in any event, he isn't threatening her very convincingly.
"Off the plank with you!" he cries, but what's clearly intended to be a terrifying scowl keeps turning into a smirk. He calls to another crewmember nearby. "Come on, Foreman! Don't just stand there like a useless clump of jellyfish. Poke at her a bit!"
Foreman simply crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.
Another crewman asks, "Won't the captain get angry if you damage the captive? They say she's worth an entire chest of gold doubloons in ransom."
The peglegged pirate makes an exasperated face. "Chase, you idiot, you're not supposed to tell her that we won't hurt her. I wanted to see what she looked like after a good dunking! Now you've ruined everything."
"First mate's coming," warns Foreman in a whisper.
"Damn." The peglegged pirate hastily sheathes his cutlass. "Wilson!" he says, smiling innocently as the first mate approaches. "We were just giving the young lady a nice whiff of fresh air. Good for the lungs, you know."
Wilson sighs and turns to Allison. "The captain would like to see you."
***
Wilson opens the door to the captain's quarters and gestures for Allison to go in. Inside, a whale oil lamp flickers on a table, but it's still dark enough that she has to blink several times before her eyes adjust.
The first thing she notices is the scent in the air. There's the sooty odor of burning oil, of course; the tang of wood warped from exposure to cold sea spray, not exactly surprising; but perfume? And not just any perfume, but the good kind: the sort of delicate, flowery eau de parfum her mother used to import at enormous cost from France.
Before Allison can hazard a guess to explain such a puzzling incongruity, she sees a figure rise from a chair in the darkest corner of the room. The figure moves forward into the circle of light cast by the lamp, and Allison's mouth drops open in astonishment.
The captain is a woman. A woman dressed in long leather boots, a swirling black skirt, and a bright scarlet blouse revealing so much of her bosom that Allison blushes like a timid child.
"Miss Cameron," says the woman, "I'm Captain Cuddy. Please, sit down."
Allison collapses backwards onto a bench. Since when did women become ships' captains? Pirate ships' captains, no less?
"You may be a hostage on my ship," says Cuddy, "but you are to be treated as a guest. If I hear that anyone in my crew has laid a hand on you, I'll have them flogged."
"No one has touched me," Allison replies, finally finding her voice. "Although the man with the pegleg was rather rude," she adds as an afterthought.
Cuddy laughs. "Ah, yes. Seaman House. His manners may be rusty, but he's the finest navigator on the high seas. No one can guide a ship through shoals the way he does. I assure you, he means no real harm."
Allison stares at Cuddy, entranced by the flashing gold rings and the dangling pearl earrings. She notices a hat with a jaunty yellow feather hanging from a peg on the wall. She always wanted a hat just like that, but her father would never allow it.
"For your own protection and privacy," Cuddy continues, "you'll be given a blanket to sleep on here in my quarters. You'll return to your father soon, never fear."
Yes, her father. The father who would have a fit of apoplexy if Allison dared to wear gaudy jewelry or flash cleavage like the captain. The father who wants her to marry someone respectable and become a society matron. The father who never lets her do anything exciting.
She frowns. "May I ask how much you're demanding for my ransom?"
"A thousand pieces of eight."
"I'm worth far more to you as a guide than a hostage," she declares.
"What do you mean?"
"My uncle owns a fleet of trading schooners. There's an island where he buries contraband until he can bribe the customs officers to smuggle it into port. I know exactly where it is, too. If you take me there, I'll split the money with you."
Cuddy looks intrigued, but she shakes her head. "If we abscond with you instead of returning you to your father, he'll have the entire Navy after us."
Allison arches an eyebrow. "You're the Pirate Queen, aren't you? Isn't being chased part of the fun?"
***
Allison -- except they now all call her Cameron -- insists on being treated like a regular crewmember. When Cuddy asks why, she answers that it's because she wants to earn everyone's trust. The real reason, however, is that she wants to prove to herself that she can do something -- although by "doing something," she hadn't exactly had "swabbing the deck" in mind, especially under Foreman's disdainful eye.
But she also learns to climb the rigging and look through a spyglass, and she even gets Wilson to start teaching her swordfighting until Cuddy intervenes, angrily lecturing them about how Cameron won't be any use at leading them to buried treasure if she puts an eye out fooling around with blades. Wilson shamefacedly gives up, but Cameron flirts with Chase until he agrees to practice with her when Wilson isn't looking. House mocks all her efforts, but when he finds Cameron abovedeck one moonlit night, he teaches her how to navigate by following the North Star.
It's Cuddy she studies the most. She envies her flair, her power, but especially her freedom to do as she likes. Cameron wants to be Cuddy someday. But as she catches herself staring at Cuddy's ample cleavage, she realizes that that isn't quite all she wants. She also wants to have Cuddy someday.
It's not a very governor's daughter-like thing to be thinking, she realizes.
Then again, no one ever asked her if she wanted to be the governor's daughter.
***
When they raid the slow-moving merchant ship that May, Cameron sneaks onto the boarding party's rowboat, a dagger clenched between her teeth. She returns carrying the other ship's flag as a souvenir; with an exaggerated curtsy, she presents it to Cuddy, who laughs and seems to forget that she'd sternly forbidden Cameron to take part.
The crew dances drunken jigs late into the night. While House and Wilson sing bawdy sea shanties until they grow hoarse, Cameron staggers back to the captain's quarters, arm-in-arm with Cuddy.
This time, she doesn't sleep on a blanket on the floor.
***
It's six months before Cuddy finally asks her outright, "There never really was any buried treasure, was there?"
"No," admits Cameron. "I just wanted an adventure."
The governor's daughter adjusts her hat with the jaunty yellow feather, and they begin to map their next raid.