Asena paced the polished marble floor. She’d been doing this for over an hour now. Thane was taking far too long to get the girl.

Suddenly, the door banged open bringing with it a gust of wind strong enough to make the fire she was standing in front of nearly die.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Thane’s voice echoed in the marble room.

She turned to face him and was startled by the girl at his side. She hid her surprise behind a scathing remark.

“Thane Zulu, you’re late!” She snapped.

“That would be my fault, Asena,” the girl’s voice was soft but firm. “He caught me in the archive room and transported me without warning. I was unprepared for the cold, as I was not warned prior to my transport here.”

Asena stared at the girl.

“How do you know who I am?” She demanded.

“Grandpa Mavi described you,” she replied. “There is no mistaking it you are the one he described down to the scar on the left side of your face.”

Asena self-consciously touched her scar. Few knew it was there, since these days she kept it covered with makeup.

“How do you know about my scar?” Asena asked softly.

The girl smiled.

“Grandpa Mavi,” she replied. “You should know your own brother’s name, Asena.”

Asena looked to Thane who shrugged.

“My brother, you say?”

“Mavi Eames. I am Akira-Mavi Asena Eames, one of his descendants.”

The way she said all of this so matter-of-factly gave Asena the chills.

“Anwen Wolfe, the Wolfe of the Atlantic, was the most fearsome pirate to sail the seas. She captained a vessel that came to be known as the Bloodshed for the color of the decks.”

“It wasn’t just the decks that were blood red,” Asena whispered. “The whole damn thing reeked of blood and death all the time. The blood leeched from the decks into the hull giving it its bloody appearance.”

“Many feared her ship so much that they surrendered on site, others fought and lost,” the girl answered.

“How do you know so much about my mother and her ship? Surely my brother hasn’t told you everything?” Asena asked.

“I’m an archeologist. It’s my job to know things no one else does. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that my thesis is on the Bloodshed and your mother.”

Asena looked at Akira in surprise.

“Why would you want to study her and that cursed ship?” she spat.

Akira reeled back in surprise at the venom in her voice.

“I study them because their history is mine,” Akira said quietly. “The Bloodshed has always fascinated me since I was a little girl. It was the last thing my father was working on before his stroke.”

“So you’re just continuing your father’s work?” Asena snarled.

“No, I’m doing this because I love it and it brings back memories of my father from happier times,” Akira’s voice was barely a whisper and full of emotion. “Why did you have Thane bring me here in the first place?”

Asena studied Akira for a moment.

“Do you know where you are?” Asena asked her.

She watched Akira look around the room before replying.

“I believe we’re in Greenland,” Akira replied. “The cold was probably one of the things that gave it away.”

“Correct,” Asena told her. “This place was where I grew up. Back then it was no more than a pile of stones with a leaky roof. My father used the turf to insulate it and keep the roof from leaking.”

Asena watched Akira study the room again.

“I take it you came back and built this marble masterpiece,”she quipped.

Asena laughed. She liked the girl, despite almost hating her from the moment Thane had brought her in the door.

“Would you like to see where the Bloodshed lays now?” Asena asked.

She watched in amusement as the girl’s eyes grew wide. She laughed lightly and turned to Thane, who’d said little since greeting her.

“Thane get her some warmer clothes, would you,” she said.

Thane bowed and left the room. Asena turned back to Akira.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you here so suddenly but I’d heard someone was looking for my mother’s ship. I never expected it to be family, much less one of Mavi’s granddaughters.”

At that, she got a huff of laughter.

“I believe it’s time the world knows the story of the Bloodshed and I think you are the perfect person to tell its story.”

An astonished look crossed her face. Asena laughed. She’d always been protective of her mother’s ship but it had been more than 100 years since her mother terrorized the Atlantic. Thane returned with some warmer clothes for Akira and handed them to her. He then promptly left the room.

“There is a screen over there if you are shy,” Asena told Akira.

Akira gave her an odd look and promptly began stripping.

“You’re not a shy one,” Asena laughed.

“Of course not, we’re women. I don’t need to be shy in front of you.”

Asena watched as her great niece began putting on the clothes Thane had brought her. It was only when she went to remove her thin under shirt that Asena saw the scars.

Akira knew the exact moment when Asena saw her scars. There was no intake of breath like when other people saw them. Instead Asena came and touched them, almost reverently.

“You have suffered a great deal to get here,” Asena said running her fingers over the most prominent scars on her back.

“Aye, I suffered,” Akira replied not pulling away from her touch.

“Just what have you endured, child?”

Though the question was almost certainly rhetorical, Akira answered it anyway.

“We are taught that men want mild mannered, meek, obedient women,” she sighed. “I was the opposite of what they wanted. They called me wild, ill-tempered, and ill-mannered with terrible breeding. I never proved them wrong. I was learned and constantly showing just how learned I was. I was more comfortable digging for relics than in a crowd of people, hell I still am.”

“So they made fun of you?” Asena asked.

“They beat me to try to change me, at least until my mother found out,” Akira replied sadly. “When she found out the nuns were whipping and beating me to try and make me a ‘lady’ she went absolutely nuts. But the damage was already done. They’d marked me as Satan’s child and from that day onward I was an outcast. My family suffered for it too. So I hid the scars beneath my clothes and thankfully people’s memories are short.”

“People’s memories are never short,” Asena sighed.

Akira said nothing as she continued to trace the scars on her back.

“How many lashes?” Asena whispered.

“Over 100 the first time,” she replied. “The second time it had to be at least 200 but I don’t really know because I passed out at about 150. The first set hadn’t even healed properly. I got an infection and nearly died.”

“And yet the beat you still?”

Akira huffed.

“They would beat me and scream at me until their faces turned red then blue and still I would not change myself to be what society wanted,” she replied. “They still hurt sometimes. Like I can still feel the lash on my skin.”

“I would be surprised if they didn’t hurt,” Asena said turning Akira to face her. “Now if they wept still, I’d be more worried.”

Asena gave her a long pointed look. Akira pulled away and donned the warmer shirt.

“I hate them,” she whispered, more to herself than Asena but Asena heard.

“Why do you hate them?”

“I hate them because my family suffered because of them! I hate them because I was too hard headed to not do what the nuns wanted of me! They’re a sick reminder of the years of torture I endured because the one thing I loved was not an accepted profession for me because I am a woman! The man I loved doesn’t even know about them.”

Akira stifled a sob. She would not cry. She was not a weak woman, like the nuns wanted of her. She straightened her spine, the way her mother had taught her, and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

“How many years were you in the clutches of the nuns?” Asena asked.

“12 torturous years,” she replied with disgust.