DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie franchise or any of the characters associated with the film. They are the property of the Walt Disney Corporation.

AN: This, amusingly enough, was prompted by my mother. I was telling her of my Drunk Will story and she said “Elizabeth should be drunk!”. It was one of those rare occasions where I agreed with my mother entirely. ;)

A burst of muffled, masculine laughter filtered through the closed door of her father’s study and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in disgust. Irritated, she flung herself into a nearby chair after pacing the parlour for what seemed like an eternity. The laughter continued and Elizabeth’s annoyance only increased. The source of her frustration was a small dinner party; a group of men invited to the manor by her father. One man in particular was notably absent from the party and although this was not the primary source of her mood, it certainly did nothing to alleviate her anger either.

Three months had passed since she had been safely returned to Port Royal. Three long, excruciating months of chaperoned courting had occurred between her and Will Turner, and yet her father did not see him fit to include in his silly little party. Elizabeth smirked at the thought of her hapless fiancé trapped in that smoke-filled room, sipping brandy with a scowl of genuine distaste and feeling miserably out of place. Perhaps her father had been looking out for the blacksmith-turned-pirate, but Elizabeth doubted it. Governor Swann had made it more than clear to both of them that their union could only be seen as a highly advantageous match for Will. Elizabeth tended to disagree. She rather felt it was a highly advantageous match for her.

Regardless, whatever the reason for Will’s slight; this was not the issue which had bristled her. Elizabeth Swann never quite understood why it was that following dinner, the men disappeared into the self-same smoke filled room to sip brandy and laugh raucously whilst the women were expected to head off to bed. It simply wasn’t fair. These men were in a club, of sorts, of which her membership would be impossible simply based upon her sex. Estrella had tried to usher Elizabeth, the only woman allowed to the dinner party merely based on the fact that she was the host’s daughter and nothing more, to bed following dinner but she would have none of it. And, why should she? After several minutes of pleading, Estrella threw up her hands and headed off to the servants quarters. Elizabeth was quite alone in the darkened parlour, which was fine by her. She preferred to do her sulking alone anyway.

From this vantage point, she could see the bright moon reflecting against the ocean. It was stunning, a moving crystalline lattice of impossibility. Somewhere, in the back of her busy mind, she thought of Captain Jack Sparrow, reunited at long last, with his one true love – the Black Pearl. Her smile was nearly imperceptible. How lovely it must be to be free to roam the seas as he was!

“A pirate’s life for me,” she sang softly into the darkness.

What would Jack do if he was in her position? Elizabeth was forced to stifle a giggle at the thought of Jack Sparrow clothed in this ridiculously heavy gown. In fact, when she thought about it a little harder, she realized that the first thing he’d done was removed her dress. A smirk played on her lips when she allowed herself to think of how delightfully inappropriate such an action was, even if it had saved her life. Of course, he’d also freed her of that breath-stealing corset, as well. Having Captain Sparrow around was becoming a more and more appealing idea! In fact, Elizabeth was starting to become of the opinion that he was terribly useful – everyone should have a Jack Sparrow at their disposal! It was then that she was reminded that Jack had knowingly placed Will in the hands of the enemy, nearly resulting in his death. Had Will been any other man, he would surely be dead. Then again, if Will had been any other man, he likely wouldn’t have enlisted the help of a pirate to find her. Her smile widened and then disappeared.

There were, of course, other downfalls to having an infamous pirate at your disposal. The propensity to consume copious amounts of rum was the first that came to mind. Rum. What a vile drink! From the very moment Jack had thrust the bottle into her hand on that desolate, forgotten island, she had formed her clever plan. Acting drunk was certainly no trial for her; she’d seen her father and his friends enough times to know the clumsy gait and loss of control over the volume of their voices. She’d tasted it with one swig, swallowing hard the lump of burning, vile liquid – and that was all she’d ever needed. It truly was terrible. And, it made her stomach burn something awful. The rest she’d skilfully added to the fire with each uneven circle they had made around it. It had appeared that Elizabeth had consumed more rum than Jack, and not to be outdone, he was constantly attempting to catch up to her. Conveniently his alcohol consumption had resulted in unconsciousness and she was free to set fire to all the rum. It had been quite a genius plan.

Elizabeth tore her eyes away from the sea and her mind from the gleeful sense of freedom it brought to her. She was set to marry Will. She wanted to marry Will. She loved Will. She was just maddeningly unhappy at this particular moment in time, in this particular manner of living. Surely, Will wouldn’t disallow her to join in a glass of brandy with the gents…would he? Elizabeth frowned. Pirate though he may be, he still had this infuriating sense of propriety. It was always: Elizabeth, that wouldn’t be proper! Or: Elizabeth, we can’t do that! We’re not married! As though carrying out the action before marriage would really make a difference. He was going to marry her…wasn’t he? Elizabeth’s fine brow was furrowed in newfound worry. Was he having second thoughts about her? Did he doubt her purity? Her love?

In an instant, the governor’s daughter was out of her chair and pacing the parlour again. It was on her third lap that she noticed something glinting enticingly on top of the table in the corner. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and stared at the object. It wasn’t…it couldn’t be! Could it? A wicked grin stretched across her face and she strode over to the table rapidly. Her conscience took a moment to nag at the back of her mind, but her more depraved senses took the reigns swiftly. Without a second thought, she plucked the stopper from its place and poured the amber liquid into an eagerly awaiting glass. Her dark eyes glinted mischievously as she raised the glass to her lips. The scent of the liquid tickled her nose hairs and she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that her next action would have unpleasant consequences. She tilted her head back and poured it down her gullet, sputtering miserably at the burning sensation in her mouth and throat. Her belly was on fire. Elizabeth stuck out her tongue in a vain attempt to ease the terrible spiced burning in her mouth. Suddenly, she understood why men sipped their brandy.

After a moment, once her taste buds had finished being assailed, Elizabeth realized that her mouth had become strangely, but pleasantly numb. Her tongue made an exploratory circle around the confines of her mouth and she raised a curious eyebrow. If her mouth was numb, it would be quite possible for her to no longer feel the wretched burning which accompanied the ingestion of the alcohol. She poured herself, very carefully, yet another glass. Staring at the tawny liquid, dancing tauntingly in the glass, she made a simple decision. Tonight, she would get drunk, just like a man. Tonight, she would be a pirate. The contents of the glass were in her mouth and down her throat in no time.

Elizabeth smiled as the heady sensation of intoxication took flight within her, warming her limbs with an unnatural heat. Her movements became more laboured and pouring another glass full was near impossible, but she did it anyway. Hang the mess! She brought the third glass to her lips and poured it down once more, this time a little less gracefully. Dribbles of liquid oozed down along her jaw, dripping onto her neck. Hastily, she wiped her neck with the sleeves of her gown. After all, she only owned at least three dozen more just like it. A thought suddenly occurred to her wild, fevered brain. There was one other person who had been rudely excluded from the raucous, after-dinner brandy gathering – Will. Carefully, and with as much dignity as she could muster, Elizabeth poured yet another glass and then replaced the stopper into the brandy bottle and lifted it from the table.

The front door seemed miles away and the darkness of the parlour was a bit overwhelming, but the self-proclaimed pirate made her way to it somehow. Pausing in the landing, she noticed another item of interest. Her lips spread widely in a smile of genuine joy and she moved towards the object. Gently, she placed the brandy bottle and her glass onto the table and turned all of her undivided attention to this new article. She allowed her insensitive fingers to run along the brim of it and slide up to the absurdly large feather which was set upon it – Will’s hat. He must’ve forgotten it earlier, when he had taken tea with her under the watchful eye of her nanny.

Elizabeth lifted the hat to her face, inhaling deeply the scent of burnt wood, the tang of metal, and the musk of sweat. It was a sweet smell, a familiar scent tinged with the slightest touch of sea salt. Will’s scent. Elizabeth trudged to the mirror and placed the hat indelicately atop her head. She turned her head approvingly in her reflection, smiling at her now pirate-like appearance. Indeed, in reality she looked nothing like a pirate, but her drunken imagination swirled. She glanced towards the door, at once remembering her purpose and pulled the door open with a bit too much flair. Much to her delighted surprise, a familiar face greeted her on the step.

“Will!” she cried excitedly. Her eyes grew wide and she brought a finger to her lips as she gripped his sleeve and dragged him inside with her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered a little too loudly. A burst of laughter from the study caused her to jump, which in turn caused Will to jump.

Will stared at Elizabeth, his face the very picture of confusion. “It seems,” he started, looking very pointedly to the top of her head, “that I have forgotten my hat.”

“You have?” Elizabeth asked, eyes wide.

A tiny half-smile grew at the corners of Will’s lips as he nodded. The amusement left his face as Elizabeth continued to stare at him blankly, her fingers clutching his arm a little too fiercely. “Are you alright, Elizabeth?”

“Me?” she asked, her voice returning to full volume. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“For one,” Will said cautiously, “you’re wearing my hat.”

Elizabeth’s eyes remained blank as her hand snaked up to the top of her head. Her fingers made contact with the feather and Will could practically see the wheels turning, very slowly. Suddenly, Elizabeth smiled brightly.

“And so I am!” she laughed gaily.

“Eliz…,” Will began. He didn’t have a chance to so much as finish her name before she halted his words by dragging him into the parlour with her.

“Will, I insist that you have a glass of brandy with me,” she said sharply.

“Now, where is that bloody brandy?” she muttered, struggling with her skirts as she attempted to move through the dark room.

“Elizabeth, the parlour is…dark,” Will said, hesitating on the last word.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, blinking at him. Her eyes grew wide again and she started to hasten from the room. Will breathed a sigh of relief, hoping she had come to her senses, only to be surprised to find her returning with a bottle and glass of brandy. Elizabeth walked to the small table with purpose, setting down her glass and attempting to remove the stopper from the bottle. Her fingers fumbled and Will strode to her side, gripping the bottle soundly.

“It’s alright, Elizabeth.”

“But I want you to have a glass of brandy with me.”

Will looked into her pleading dark eyes. He was close enough now to smell the liquor on her breath. “Perhaps it’s best if I have yours.”

As soon as the words had exited his mouth, Elizabeth had sloppily scooped up her glass and held it possessively to her chest. “I don’t think so, Mr. Turner. I’ve had quite enough of men taking away my brandy.”

“Men have taken brandy away from you?” Will asked, genuinely confused.

Elizabeth glanced to the side and pouted prettily. “Well…no,” she admitted begrudgingly, “But, being excluded is just as reprehensible!”

“Is it?” Will asked, the amused half-smile returning to his lips.

“Yes.”

A moment of silence passed between the two in the darkened parlour. Will smiled at Elizabeth secretly. The image of her drunk on brandy and wearing his hat was quite disarming, and irritatingly charming. Will fought a smile and attempted to remain quite serious, although it was difficult as he watched her huff his feather from her face.

“Elizabeth,” he said sternly, “may I have the glass of brandy?”

She frowned at him, bemused by his request. Her frown deepened as she looked down at her glass of brandy. The sight of it caused her to cringe and she thrust it towards him without moving a step. Will walked over to her quickly, plucking the drink from her quivering hands. How much had she had already? Elizabeth stepped into him, placing her hands gently on his forearms. Her eyes were murky pools of mystery, sucking him in with their openness.

“I wish I were a pirate, Will. Will, my pirate,” she mumbled, sliding her hands up his arms to his broad shoulders, her fingers massaging the tight muscles tentatively. Will placed the glass of brandy on the nearest table and caught the teetering woman around the waist. Elizabeth moaned incoherently and rested her cheek flush across his chest.

“Elizabeth,” Will started, glancing uncomfortably at the sliver of light escaping from underneath the door to her father’s study. When she didn’t respond but only leaned heavily into him, he realized that something wasn’t quite right.

“Elizabeth?” he asked, gripping her shoulders.

Elizabeth blinked at him sleepily and then smiled. “Will Turner. I’m going to marry you.”

Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, you are.”

With that, his rather inebriated fiancée collapsed against him. With ease, he reached down and scooped her up at the knees. Elizabeth nuzzled her head into his shoulder contentedly, his hat falling to the ground. Will paused for a moment to lay a kiss upon her fevered forehead before carrying her quietly up the stairs. Once at the top of the stairs, Will realized his conundrum – he had no idea where Elizabeth’s bedroom was.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered. She responded only by nuzzling her head further into his shoulder. Will rolled his eyes in apparent frustration.

“Elizabeth,” he repeated, a little louder. He cast a worried glance downstairs upon hearing the voices from Governor Swann’s study begin to subside. “Where is your bedroom?”

“Upstairs,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yes, we’re there. Which door is it?” His tone was becoming hurried and frantic. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Governor Swann to find a very drunk Elizabeth in his arms on the second floor of the manor.

“One, two, three,” she muttered, raising her hand absently. Did that mean the third door? Will shrugged, the voices below becoming even more muted; the third door was going to have to be his guess. He opened the door cautiously, finding that the room was lit by a single candle. Realizing that the bed was unoccupied and the room decidedly feminine, he began to breathe again. Gently, he laid the sleeping beauty upon the bed. She was so peaceful in her slumber, a side of Elizabeth he had not yet had the pleasure of seeing. Will wondered if he should leave her there, still fully clothed and lying upon her sheets.

No matter what impending doom awaiting him at the bottom of the stairs, he could not in good conscience leave her there with the cool breeze that was sneaking through the window. First, he removed her slippers, marvelling at how delicately small her feet were. Then, he lifted her legs gently to tuck them under the sheets. He hoped, desperately, not to wake her, so angelic was her face right now. Such an innocent case to hide such a naughty interior. As he pulled the sheet up to cover her torso, her arms flew around his neck and she pulled him to her face. Her brandy-flavoured lips were hot against his and he was becoming intoxicated by their insistence. Elizabeth’s hands, so soft and smooth, reached out to him. One hand tugged madly at the cord in his hair, adamant in releasing it from its restraints, while the other pulled unabashedly at the collar of his shirt. For a moment, Will almost forgot all about the Governor and his friends, sipping brandy below. Fortunately, Elizabeth released him suddenly.

“I love you,” she mumbled sleepily as her hands fell from him.

Will was left breathless and wanting. He watched her sleep now with a newfound sense of disappointment and a horrid burning in his loins. Oh, Elizabeth Swann was a trying woman, indeed. Mentally, Will noted that he should never deny her brandy in the future. Sighing in acceptance of her slumber, Will exited the room closing the door behind him as he left. He smiled to himself, completely neglecting to think of the fact that Governor Swann was still below. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that he noticed Governor Swann, staring at him with his mouth hanging down.

Will was suddenly very aware of his dishevelled hair and opened collar. Automatically, a hand came up to smooth his hair and straighten his shirt. Neither man could speak from all the shock. It was Will who broke the silence first, cautiously continuing down the winding stair.

“I…she…brandy,” he mumbled incoherently.

“Brandy?” Governor Swann roared incredulously.

Will shook his head feebly. “I didn’t…I mean…,” he paused, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I only came for my hat.”

Governor Swann raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “And, where is your hat, Mr Turner?”

Will abruptly recalled that the hat was not in his possession. He gestured madly up the stairs towards Elizabeth’s room, which caused a set of cultured eyebrows to rise sky high. “She was wearing it,” Will offered weakly. Again, Governor Swann was unimpressed.

“It’s in the parlour,” Will finished.

Governor Swann frowned at Will and glanced into the dark parlour. “That parlour?”

Will nodded and Governor Swann frowned. Nervously, Will scooted into the parlour and snatched his hat from the floor. He returned to the landing, showing Governor Swann his hat half-heartedly. Governor Swann’s frown deepened.

“Perhaps you best be leaving, Will.”

Will nodded and bowed quickly. “Right.”

As fast as he had spoken the word he had left the manor and leaned against the front door, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Heaven only knew what would come of this.

Blindingly bright light streamed into Elizabeth’s room. She flinched, attempting to cover her eyes with her arm. Her head was splitting with a pounding sort of agony that she had never experienced. She moaned irritably.

“Estrella, please,” she hissed without looking. When the curtains remained open, Elizabeth sat up abruptly, despite her screaming head, and tore her arm from her eyes.

“Estrel…oh…good morning, father,” she said quietly. Her father was standing before the window, gazing across the town. He did not turn to face his daughter, who was still clothed in her gown from the evening before, stained with brandy.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve had all the brandy removed from the manor,” her father said clearly, his tone even.

Elizabeth stared at him guiltily, but still he did not turn.

“I’m not entirely sure Mr. Turner knows what he’s getting himself into,” he said, again his tone even. Finally, he turned and raised an eyebrow. “I have taken it upon myself to write him a short letter, some advice, really.”

Elizabeth’s heart plummeted, which was a feeling that did not go well with her churning stomach and pounding head.

“What did it say?” she asked, trying to keep her voice devoid of emotion. It was quite difficult in her current state.

“That perhaps, in the future, he might remember to take his hat with him,” Governor Swann said, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

Elizabeth started to smile in relief as her father moved to leave the room. “And,” he called behind him, “should the two of you ever have a daughter, to keep the brandy out of the parlour.”

Elizabeth would have laughed had her head not hurt so very much. “For once, father, I agree entirely.”