(Warning: Contains mild blood, language, violence, and other implied bad things. Probably nothing too bad, just thought I'd warn you.)

(This takes place approximatly 20 years before the events of focus in the Lunar Pirates universe. Eventually I will put stuff up for that... Probably.)

The child was laughing, Lannister was at least glad for that. His flesh and blood wasn’t allowed to be squeamish. When it crawled over to the corpse of his foolish crewman and began playing in the blood, he smirked. Perhaps it wasn’t a complete loss then, the disappearance of the witch and the cursed eye. This child, this girl, could be useful in other ways. She had Dammes blood in her veins, she could be a fine weapon. Glancing down at the body, Lannister felt no regret or shame. The fool had still failed his duty, and no failures were allowed in his crew.

At this point, the toddler had gotten herself covered in blood, giggling profusely as it ran down her smooth skin. Scooping up the child, the Death Captain was unconcerned about the mess. He was already covered in the same blood. As she smeared the ruby liquid around like paint on a canvas, Lannister considered what to do with her. He had no time to care for a mewling infant, and her mother had already fled the ship. Lannister had allowed it, her payment for giving him a vessel to hold the curse. But that left him with no obvious caretaker, and he daren’t leave her to just anyone, to give them the chance to ruin his weapon.

Stepping over the corpse, he called for two of the crew, the old navigator and a young cutthroat. He handed the old man the child, as he had little to do most days and was still as nasty as the rest of the crew. The young one he merely told to clean up, and he relished the sharp intake of air the man did his best to hide. The dead fool had been his brother. Lannister wanted to see if it ran in the family. Fortunately, it seemed to be an isolated case, as the crewman drug his brother’s corpse out with no comment. At the very least, he was smart enough to bide his time.

“Still going to kill ‘im, then?” The navigator knew Lannister too well. “Of course,” Lannister turned to his closest associate. No friends on the ship, friends were a weakness. “Can’t take any chances he’ll cause trouble.” Heading toward his cabin at the back of the ship, the old man smirked, knowing the Captain loved trouble. It gave him an excuse to kill something, not that he ever needed one. “So what do ya want me ta’ do with this?” He shrugged a bit, bouncy the child and getting a giggle in return. The captain merely shook his head, “Not sure yet. Still thinking.”

When they reached the captain’s quarters, Lannister headed over to the bare corner first. The navigator waited patiently as the captain stripped off the bloody clothes, the child squirming in his arms. Blood coating his coat, it just added another layer on top of what was there. Lannister never understood how the old man could always wear the same coat, covered with dry, crackling blood, but forgave him the eccentricity. The best killers were never sane. He just wasn’t allow near any of the captain’s food or fabric. He looked at the crumpled pile before him, slightly irritated. He was running out of clothes again, they’d have to raid another merchant fleet soon.

Next he moved to the washbowl, taking the rag he always left there and wiping away the blood that had already started to dry on his skin. The navigator stood silently as his captain bathed, watching the pale red trickle down his tan skin, staining the spare cloth beneath his feet. Occasionally it would catch on one of the many pale scars that crossed his body. The girl had started to pull at the navigator’s coat, getting blackish dust all over herself. This was surely the child of the Death Dealer, the captain of the Blackblood pirates. No other babe would be so at ease with demons.

Finally, Lannister moved to the chest of drawer that held the few pieces of unstained clothing he had left. Pulling out a simple black tunic and red linen pants, he scoffed. He needed to stop wearing his best clothes while killing. All he had left were these peasant’s scraps. Of course, he smirked, he didn’t always plan his kills. He never knew when the chance would come. Besides, clothes were easy enough to replace, while the rush from watching blood flow from his victims was irreplaceable. Remembering the look of terror on the crewman’s face, the feel of the blood running down his arm as he drove the dagger in deeper, it was bliss.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout murder again?” Lannister realized that a wide grin had spread across his face, and was suddenly very aware of his nudity. He drew the pants up, turning to the old man, now with a toddler attempting to pull herself onto his shoulder. The man’s patience was impressive, he’d always been more of a planner than the captain. “I believe you said you were goin’ ta’ tell me what to do with this,” he suddenly took the child by the foot, pulling her off and leaving her hanging in the air, “Not fantasize about your latest kill.”

The insubordination sparked the captain’s temper, waking the monster that had caused the death of so many. Glaring at the old man, Lannister countered, “I have time to do as I see fit, unless you have somewhere to be.” Like the bottom of the ocean with the fool from earlier, he thought. The air was charged, his hawk-like gaze countered by the old man’s nonchalant one. The silence was broken by the girl, giggling from her inverted position, seemingly unaware of the world around her.

The captain sighed, rage dwindling. “I just need her raised, at least until she can kill,” he said, slipping the tunic over his head. “If I don’t need her to hold the Eye, I’ll use her as a sword to take it from whatever unlucky fool has it now.” The old man nodded, righting the child before she started to complain. Stepping over, he took stock of the girl. A pudgy thing, no coordination, it would take years to make use of her, if she had any use at all. She smiled at her father, earning herself a sickening glare.

Turning back to get his sword, he contemplated throwing the child to the sharks next time they appeared on a raid. It would be too much trouble to groom her into an asset, and loath as he was to waste resources, he saw no point in waiting years for a weapon. That thought was cut short by a loud shout behind him. Spinning around, he found the girl with a devilish grin on her face and the navigator with a nasty bite on his hand. “What?” The captain quirked an eyebrow, moving closer to inspect the wound. The old man was holding the girl by the back of her shirt as he offered his arm, and even so the child was laughing.

“She bit me!” He swung the child lightly, still aware of her status. The man wasn’t stupid, exactly why Lannister kept him around. He prodded the wound, garnering a disgruntled protest from the navigator. It was far from life-threatening, but a coin-sized chunk of flesh had been torn from his forearm. “What did you do to her?” The old man shook his head, “Nothin’ but switch arms. Little devil just bit me.” Looking to the child, with blood between her teeth and running down her chin, Lannister couldn’t help grinning himself. To hell with the effort, this child would be perfect.

He waved to the washbowl, “Clean yourself up, and the kid. I’m not having her pick up your nasty habit. You know where the bandages are.” Grimacing, the old man trundled over to the water. “The brat have a name?” Lannister paused, what had the woman called her? He couldn’t remember, was it Kara? Karen?  It didn’t matter, she was gone and the girl was his now. “Alana,” he replied, before leaving, closing the door behind him.