A/N: This is a VERY belated Eid present for my friend Zay (Zayz). I'm so sorry for the incredibly late publishing date, forgive me? I had to change ideas for what I was going to write for you three times, so that's half of the reason why, besides the fact I'm lazy. Sorry.

All right, I have to admit it; this is not going to be a one-shot. Why, you ask? Because when I was about halfway writing this I realized I could not incorporate everything I wanted to occur into one chapter, it would just be too much. So yes, I am going to continue this.

And please, I know this chapter is very slow, but if you read to the ending, I'm sure it will be worth your while. Trust me; chapter two will be far more interesting, because this is Sparrabeth.

Disclaimer: I own the insane aunt and her friends, but other than that no, nothing is mine.

Chapter One:

"Mother, mother!"

Will Junior, a boy of only eight, threw open the door to his mother's room, ignoring the maid who had opened her mouth in protest, and jumped onto the large bed the woman slept on, shaking her shoulder enthusiastically, a large grin plastered on the his face.

"Mother, wake up! It's Christmas!" exclaimed Will, his brown locks bouncing as he practically jumped up and down enthusiastically.

His mother's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she groaned slightly before her eyelids lifted open, revealing two large brown eyes, still foggy with sleep.

"Come on!" persisted her son, jumping off the bed and bouncing in place.

Elizabeth stifled a yawn with a hand and stretched like a cat. "Alright Will, but please, keep your head on," she said with a grin, sliding out of the warm confines of her bed and slipping into her slippers and a thick robe. The grin on Will's face broadened, and he dashed out the door, only to return to the doorway and hover impatiently, his tiny foot tapping hastily against the rich hard wood floors.

Following her son out of her room, Elizabeth watched, eyes bright with joy, as Will danced down the hallway in front of her, cheeks red with excitement.

"Aunt Ethel isn't up yet, and please don't wake her. She's always so boring," he chided as he began to descend down a grand spiraling staircase. "She won't care if she misses Christmas morning anyway, she hates me."

"Will!" his mother exclaimed with a hint of reproach, "Aunt Ethel does not hate you; she has just come along in her years and has lost what little patience she had to begin with."

Will frowned slightly. "It must not have been much at all then."

With Will in the lead, the two made it down the staircase and across another hall into a large living room. The room had two long wall sized windows with the lush blood red curtains drawn open to reveal a white world outside, snow cascading from dimly lit sky. Between the windows sat an elegant yet simple fireplace that held smoldering wood, warming up the room at a considerable pace, with large cushioned chairs and couches around it, a table in the center. Placed upon the table were rolls, danishes, and sweet cakes, along with a small glass cups filled with tea; the site caused Elizabeth to grimace.

Will threw himself into a chair, legs jittering so quickly that his mother began to think they might just fly off; however the look on his face was so priceless that she could not help but laugh. She knew what he was expecting.

Every Christmas Elizabeth purchased her son one big gift, something that he had been begging her for the entire year, pleading her to give it to him early, though her firm hold never gave in. She was rather lucky her Aunt Ethel was not awake for she would most certainly not approve of the gift Elizabeth had in store for little Will.

Holding up one hand to stop him from getting up, Elizabeth left the living room and dashed back upstairs to her room and threw open her closet where she began to push aside clothes and boxes. Lifting a large wooden chest and moving it aside, she found the long thin parcel she was looking for. Smiling, she left her room and returned to where Will waited.

Sitting next to him, she handed Will the item. His eyes widened, and quickly, he tore at the brown paper that held the item of desire. Beneath the paper was a long navy blue velvety box with silver hinges on the side. Glancing at his mother, Will's fingers ran along the opening for a moment before lifting the lid up, and gasping at what he saw.

Inside the box was a sheathed sword.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Will's trembling hands reached into the box and pulled out the item, his thin fingers running up and down the handle and hilt. He held it in his hands for a moment, marveling over the item as the shocked look on his face slowly grew into a wide smile. Upon unsheathing the sword, even Elizabeth could not contain a small gasp at the site of it; glimmering magnificently and almost proudly in the light of the fire, its blade thin yet durable. Its gold hilt was simple yet drew the eye toward it with its curved ends and the silver tint that ran along the ends of it. The weapon held an enormous amount of character and power.

"Well?" his mother asked, eyes lighting up at the site of her son's face. "Do you like it?"

Sheathing the sword, Will threw his arms around his mother, clinging to her. "Oh, thank you mum!" He pulled away, only to hug his mother again.

She laughed. "I'm taking this as a yes." Pulling her son off her, she looked deep into his eyes, suddenly with a grave look. "Now Will," she murmured, "I want you to take this upstairs and do not let your aunt catch you with this, all right? God knows what might happen to her if she sees you with this. Tomorrow I'll take you down to the caves and we'll practice." She raised her eyebrows suggestively and tousled his hair.

Hugging his mother for the third time and repeating his thanks, Will put the sword away and sprinted up the stairs quietly. Elizabeth watched him for a moment, feeling that blissful emotion one gets when they know they've made someone else's day particularly cheerful. Plucking a random cake from the table, she stood up and walked towards the window, sighing at the site before her.

The black vastness of the ocean was spread out before her, waves rolling lazily against the jagged rocks that protruded from the surface near the shoreline. Ships anchored at the docks rocked and swayed leisurely with the ebb and flow of the tide, looking quite tranquil as the white specks fluttered from the sky. The entire site was spectacular, and it only made Elizabeth frown as she bit into the sticky cake.

"Don't you get crumbs all over my floor, child! Eat that over a plate! Disgraceful; I know my brother did not raise you in a barn with the pigs. How would he or your governess think if he saw you like this?"

Elizabeth spun around, her hand instinctively flying to her waist where at one point in her life she would have unsheathed a sword. The site of her aunt nearly made her laugh, and she placed upon her lips the best smile she could muster. Setting the cake on a tiny china plate, she walked towards her aunt, only to stop a few feet away from her, smiling uncertainly at her scowling family member.

"Good morning Aunt Ethel," she welcomed graciously. "Merry Christmas."

Looking around the room, her aunt's frown grew deeper. "You did Christmas without me. Why couldn't you and the boy wait? You are both as impatient as the devil," she growled, ignoring her greeting and turning away towards the kitchen in a huff. Looking at the stairs behind where her aunt had stood, Elizabeth noticed Will sitting at the top of the staircase, holding his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Smirking, Elizabeth ascended the stairs quickly, forgetting about her previously wanted breakfast when Will cried out with laughter and jumped away, running down the hallway. Lifting up the hem of her nightgown and robe, she chased after him, only to discover him sitting on her bed, giggling hysterically into a pillow.

"'Don't you get crumbs all over my floor!'" he mocked, pinching his nose. "Mum, you were raised in a barn, weren't you?"

Trying to hold back her own laughter, Elizabeth sat next to him cross-legged. "Oh yes. Amongst the pigs too," she said all too seriously. She knew it was wrong to scorn her aunt so, after everything she had done for her and Will, but sometimes she just could not take her depressing and hateful outlook on life.

Waving a hand in front of his face, her son looked at her disgustedly. "I always wondered where that dreadful smell came from."

"I'm sorry my son, but you will soon inherit the terrible stink." She looked at him gravely.

"I'm a monster," Will cried, cupping his face in his hands dramatically.

Draping her arms around his shoulders, Elizabeth hugged him. "Ah, but you're my little monster child," she cooed.

A knock at the door made both son and mother jump. Squirming out of his mother's grip just before the door opened, Will sat up straight, expecting it to be his hostile great aunt in a rage. However he was quite surprised.

"Pardon me," a maid apologized. "But Lady Ethel requests you and your son to dress immediately, for guests shall be arriving at noon." Glancing at Elizabeth, she looked behind herself and picked up a rather large white box. "She requests you wear this."

Eyeing the box nervously, Elizabeth stood up and strode across the room, finding it to be surprisingly heavy. "Thank you Jane." Smiling, the maid wished her a happy holiday, and curtsied her way out of the room.

Placing the box on the bed, Elizabeth lifted the lid, Will peering over her shoulder curiously with a thoughtful look. Tearing the tissue paper away, Elizabeth pulled out a deep forest green dress. Sighing, she unfolded it, holding it in front of her, eyeing the neckline critically.

"I suppose I'm going to have to thank her for this." She knew the only reason her aunt had bought it was because she wanted her to look presentable to their guests.

Nodding, Will looked back into the box, pulling out another garment. "You missed something," he said, holding the garment. Taking one look at the material, Elizabeth groaned in despair.

"What is it?" Will asked, looking at the article of clothing with a puzzled look.

Sighing again, Elizabeth laid the dress on the bed and went to her closet where she began sifting through shoes. "A corset."

His puzzled look slowly changed to a look of remembrance. "A corset! Isn't that what that pirate saved you from? Jack?"

The sound of the familiar pirates name made her smile. She made a sound that clarified him to be right, before standing up straight, a pair of matching green shoes in her hands. "You ought to go change Will. Make sure your hair isn't a mess." Setting the shoes beside her bed, she patted him on the shoulder. "God have mercy on us today. If it's Clarice they will be here for hours."

Making a face, Will walked out of the room, asking more himself then anyone else, "Why is every holiday here so boring?"

The remainder of Elizabeth's morning was spent grooming herself. After a short bath in a tub of warm water, Elizabeth, (with the help of a few maids) were able to get her into the corset and dress without much of a problem. The corset was not as tight as the one that had led to a path of adventure almost nine years ago, though it was still uncomfortable. After getting dressed, she was forced to sit in front of a mirror whilst the maid Jane did her hair, making it into a complicated bun.

After the whole process, all Elizabeth wanted to do was go back to bed, though with a sigh of annoyance, she knew it was only the beginning of her day.


To Will and Elizabeth's dismay, it was Clarice Wellington who came for the afternoon, accompanied by her husband Christopher who was a wealthy and well known banker in the city of Plymouth. Standing next to their aunt, Will and Elizabeth welcomed the guests at the doorway. Clarice was tall and lean, her graying hair pinned up, sitting underneath an atrocious purple hat that matched her equally as atrocious dress. Her nose was thin and sharp, and a permanent frown seemed to be set on her face. Her scowling hawk-eyes looked at Elizabeth and her son as if they were dust in a corner, not giving them any acknowledgement.

Christopher, however, was short stout man, a long bristly mustache sitting on his upper lip. He was bald and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his nose. Clad in a dark blue suit, he held a hand out to Will, and tipped his hat to Elizabeth.

"Ah! Will lad, how big you've grown! Why, the last time I saw you, you were only a little thing!" he exclaimed, a big grin on his face. "And Elizabeth, you look beautiful as always, my dear," he added, turning his gaze to the woman.

Smiling warmly, she replied, "You're looking great yourself sir. Happy holidays."

Christopher shook his head. "Ah, there's no need to call me 'sir', it makes me feel old. Christopher is fine. And happy holidays to you too."

Before she could reply, Elizabeth's aunt cut-in, a strange looking smile on her face. "Oh no. I mean not to contradict you my good friend, but my niece was brought up in a respectable house-hold, and I feel her lessons would be for naught if she did not address you as 'sir'." Shooting Elizabeth a hard look as if something were her fault, Ethel Swann nodded at a few servants. "Please, allow them to take your coats. Lunch should be ready shortly, but in the meantime, let us gather in the parlor."

The group sat together as servants and maids bustled about, offering tea to everyone. Elizabeth sat up straight next to her son, holding the teacup in her hand properly, taking small polite sips from it. Will mimicked her, keeping his usually talkative mouth shut. It was torture.

Elizabeth tried to look interested in the conversation (last time she tuned in, it was something about politics), but she just could not handle it. Turning her gaze towards a window, she let her mind wander

What is the difference between the living room, and the parlor? she thought. Moreover, why even bother having two separate rooms like that, when they're both are really the same and hold the same purpose? Actually, it just seems like an excuse to see whom the most expensive and elaborate home. Looking at the older persons in the room, Elizabeth made a face. If they're all friends, there's no need to act polite and proper around one another, nor is there a need to dress up. Why don't we look casual around one another, should friends not be casual? Instead, we've all been forced into uncomfortable dress clothes, as if we're all trying to impress each other. It's ridiculous. My aunt should not have even bothered having Will and I here.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elizabeth knew that the reason why her aunt called her and her son's presence was so she could be bumped higher on the social rank in Plymouth. The relationship between herself and her aunt was not what one would call love, merely tolerance.

A little more than eight years ago, Elizabeth had arrived at her aunt's doorstep, cold, tired, and most of all, heavy with child. After begging and pleading, her aunt had agreed to let her stay, but only if she and her soon to be son behaved properly. Her aunt had told her the moment they began misbehaving she would kick them out.

When neighbors and friends had asked of her niece, Ethel Swann had told them all that Elizabeth's husband had died, breaking off the major income to the home, leaving the poor 'widow' deep in debts and unable to provide for herself, let alone another mouth. She said that as her aunt, it was her joy to take in the poor woman and treat her as her own. The population of Plymouth was both amazed and touched by her generosity, claiming that she was one of the most charitable citizens in the great city.

Ethel Swann at one point had a husband whom was a wealthy and respectable governor, but he had died a little more than twelve years before that, leaving the woman with a large amount of money, and high standings in the city.

Though Elizabeth's aunt was always mean and sour, she at least provided the simple necessities of life for her niece and Will. When Elizabeth had arrived at her mansion all those years ago, she had been terrified that her aunt might know of her dangerous and what one might call 'criminal' past, and her aunt would not have allowed the pregnant woman to stay. If anything, she would have most likely called the authorities, and Elizabeth would have been branded and hung by the neck.

The thought made her shiver.

"…pirates is what Garrison says. Not many though."

Elizabeth's head snapped over to Christopher. "Pardon, but what has been happening?"

All the heads turned to Elizabeth; it was the first thing she had said since they had sat down. Blushing slightly, she looked down.

"I said," the man repeated, "that lately merchant ships along the coast of Great Britain have been pirated. They're not French or Chinese; we do not know where they're from."

Elizabeth's aunt scoffed. "Well, let's hope the filth of the sea is caught and hung."

Clarice shook her head in agreement.

Will shifted slightly, looking down into his full teacup. "I'm sure not all pirates are bad."

This time all eyes shifted to Will. Nervously, Elizabeth forced a laugh, patting her son's hair. "Oh Will," she breathed, "of course all pirates are bad." She had to suppress a cringe.

Aunt Ethel gave Will and Elizabeth a cold look before tearing her eyes from them. She was about to say something when a maid walked into the room, curtsying.

"Beg pardon my lady, but lunch is ready."


The rest of the afternoon was gruelingly long.

After a lengthy lunch in the dining hall, Aunt Ethel led the group to the library, where she discussed the Swann's family history. Will would have dozed off a few times, if Elizabeth had not jabbed him in the side to keep him awake.

The news about pirates near Great Britain was rather interesting; perhaps it was someone she knew, though she highly doubted it; there were hundreds, possibly even thousands of pirates sailing the seven seas, and the chance of it being an old ally was slim to none.

When it was time for the Wellingtons to leave, Elizabeth and Will had to use all their will to keep themselves from sighing in relief. It was almost five o'clock, and for the past five hours they had been forced to endure the tedious conversations and comments exchanged between the old friends. Once the guests left the house, and their footsteps could no longer be heard, Aunt Ethel looked at her niece and great nephew with a frown.

"William, you must learn to stay in your place when guests are over, instead of making foolish comments!" she snapped suddenly, looking at the boy with steely eyes. Will opened his mouth agape before he held her gaze, glaring back, something that made his mother extremely proud.

Turning to Elizabeth, the aunt folded her hands together. "You and I have been invited to attend a ball at the Scott's tonight. We shall be leaving in an hour, and will not be back until much later. I expect you to be on your best behavior. A gown is ready for you upstairs."

Elizabeth blanched. Thinking frantically, she placed a hand on her head. "I would truly love to go with you, but I feel rather ill and-."

Her aunt shook her head, causing Elizabeth to stop. "Nonsense. You just ate too many cakes. You must improve on your manners child." Giving her niece a strange look, she added, "You shall accompany me, no questions. If you are to fall truly ill during the ball, you can wait in the carriage until my departure. Now, go upstairs and get ready, you are a mess."

Shooing Elizabeth up the spiraling stairs, the aunt looked at Will with a smile that did not meet her eyes. "Well, well Will, it looks like you'll be home alone tonight." Without another word, she left.

Will stood there, furious, until he decided to follow his mother upstairs.

"But mother, you can't go!" Will begged as Elizabeth and several maids stood behind a dressing screen, helping her put on another, this time light yellow dress.

"I'm sorry Will." She gasped for a moment as a maid pulled on corset strings. "But I have to. Please behave while I'm gone."

Will sat silent on his mother's bed, fumbling with a loose thread on the quilt stubbornly. "Why can't I come?"

With slightly uneven breath, Elizabeth explained that it was an adult-only event, and that he was better off remaining at home, for they were terribly boring.

After a few minutes, she stepped out from behind the screen, cheeks red, but beautiful as ever. "How does it look?" she asked, spinning around.

"Great," her son muttered.

Smiling faintly, Elizabeth walked over to him, sat on the bed and wrapped an arm over the boy's shoulders, careful not to wrinkle herself. "You can be happy about one thing," she said comfortingly.

He didn't want to ask it, but curiosity got the best of him. "What?"

Grinning, Elizabeth said in a quiet tone that only the two could hear, "That even though we'll be far apart, we both will be bored out of our wits."


Will gloomily watched the carriage pull away from the stables from the paned glass window, as if waiting for his mother to suddenly jump out and rush back to the house. She seemed to be the only friend he had in the world and every time she went somewhere without him, he suddenly felt unloved and unwanted. His great aunt had always tried to mix him in with the other sons of wealthy persons in Plymouth, but to her great dissatisfaction, he never got along with the other boys. The thought of his great aunt made his hand clench. He didn't understand why his mother always gave in to her aunt's wishes, even if they caused her unhappiness. He didn't understand the ranks of society, nor the reputations that people felt the need to keep. Those things were unimportant to him anyway.

Will hated his aunt; she seemed to always find something wrong with the child, even when he was nice and tidy and didn't speak.

You hair is a complete abomination! Why did you leave your things out in the way? Why can't you do better on your schoolwork? You need to make friends and stop pestering your mother – she has a life to live boy, and I will not have you constantly at her side.

Gritting his teeth, Will sat in the living room, bored out of his mind as he watching the fluffy bits of snow fall from the sky. He longed to go on an adventure, to leave Plymouth; it was not like he was wanted here anyway, was he? His mother had told him of her past out on sea, how she had braved cursed pirates, defended a ship against the kraken, a terrible sea leviathan, and allied with some of the most famous pirates in history, and that's what he wanted to do. He hated being forced to act polite and agreeable around everyone, and he hated not being able to state his mind without being yelled at for being ridiculous. Here, he was only a child. A young little boy who had no concept of good and bad, right and wrong. But he did understand it all. He was smart, and he understood more things than his aunt knew. He knew that she was a miserable old woman who had never found an ounce of happiness in her life, and he knew him and his mother did not belong here. He also knew that good man was not always the prosperous person of society; it could also be a rugged sailor out at sea, working hard. And that's where he and his mother belonged; at sea.

A maid walked into the room and bowed, causing the boy to jump from his thoughts.

"Dinner is ready for you sir."

Grimacing, Will got up reluctantly, and followed the girl to the dinning hall.


"Have you met my niece, Elizabeth?"

For what felt like the hundredth time, Elizabeth curtsied, a forced smile forming on her lips. The man was about her age, handsome, but had an egotistical aura to him. He reached out with his own hand arrogantly and took hers, kissing the back of it. Her aunt beamed.

"Well Miss. Swann, I can say you are positively the most beautiful woman in this room."

Elizabeth's smile turned to a frown, and her eyes narrowed. "Thank you," she said through gritted teeth, finding his presumptuous behavior obnoxious.

She did not pay attention as her aunt and the man (she already forgotten his name) exchanged brief comments on the festivities; her mind was too preoccupied with the pirates that had been on the coast of Britain. She could not understand why her thoughts always found their way back to the subject, but every time she thought of it she felt a strange feeling in her heart, a feeling of…

Of longing?

"Well Elizabeth?"

Jerking her head back towards the talking pair, Elizabeth asked, "What?"

The man smiled. "I asked if you would like dance with me."

She wanted to say no, and the word was about to roll off her tongue when she caught a glance from her aunt. The phrase 'if looks could kill' flashed in her mind, and most reluctantly, she held out a hand. "Of course."

The man took his hand in hers, wrapping his other arm around her back, before sliding into the crowd of dancers.

The world spun in a blur, people and shapes becoming nothing but colorful blobs as they moved in sync with the music. Let him lead, she reminded herself as she almost ungracefully stepped on the man's foot. Left, right, foreword, right, left backwards. The man continuously smiled at her throughout the entire dance, his eyes flicking up and down her body.

She wanted to smack the arrogant smile right of his face.

She actually felt as if she were in her own kind of hell. Here she was, dancing with an infuriating man, socializing herself with the people of the world whom she hated most, and most of all, she was pretending. She was pretending to be a well-thought agreeable woman. She was pretending to enjoy the uncomfortable clothes she was forced to wear. She was pretending to be happy, and that everything in the world was bright and simple. Easy. Nothing too hard for a proper British woman now. Keep things simple; teach her the arts of music, dancing, painting, and you have yourself a perfect woman. No hard work. No labor. Nothing but learning things to satisfy the people around you, and keeping a good reputation in the city.

Isn't this what she ran away from all those years ago? Did she not want to break all ropes to society she had re-tied when she had come to her aunt? Did she still crave the adventure she had experienced what felt like a lifetime ago?

She knew the answer was yes. And she also knew that the only reason she had come to England was so that the baby would be safe, and that nothing would harm him.

William. Will. She loved her son so much. He was always there, a bright little sun within the gloomy shadows of her aunts house. Of course he was mischievous and forever getting in trouble, but he was a thoughtful young man, and Elizabeth knew that he would do always do the right thing.

You'll have a chance to do the right thing…


"Checkmate."

Jonathan frowned, seeing that he had lost again.

"I must say sir; you're quite good at this."

Will sighed, looking uninterestedly at the clock; it was only quarter after eight. His mother had been gone for two hours. "Good game," he said unenthusiastically, moving the glass pieces to their original spots.

The servant looked at the young boy and smiled. "Another game then?"

Will opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden crash was heard, followed by a high-pitched scream. The servant's eyes widened, and quickly he muttered his pardons as he leapt from his seat and rushed towards the sound of commotion, maids quickly following him. Will smiled, glad for the man's departure, but also as if sharing a secret.

It had been the glass vase in the parlor, and he knew it.

He could hear frantic voices faintly coming from the parlor, which was on the opposite wing of the mansion: What happened? How? What are we supposed to tell her, the foul old woman? It's not my fault! Go get a broom!

Suppressing a laugh, Will finished setting the pieces in their correct spots. He himself had almost knocked over that same vase several times whilst he had explored the mansion. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone (hopefully not him) would knock it over.

Standing, the young boy scanned the living room, looking for something interesting. Frowning, he walked to the window, looking at the dimly lit docks below him. His aunt's mansion sat on a steep hill by a cliff, and from any window on the east side of the house, you could see the ocean. His mother had told him that one day she and him would go sailing together, have their own little journey… just him and his mother…

Will had never known his father, though his mother had told him everything about how Will Turner, her husband, was cursed to sail on the Flying Dutchman for an eternity, only stepping on land once every ten years. The child was curious of course of his father, but he did not miss him, for how could he? He did not know what the older man was like, what he enjoyed, and most of all, if he had even wanted a child. Will didn't even know if he would like his father. He supposed he did not feel empty without one; perhaps it was because he had lived with only his mother for his whole life. She was like a father and a mother to him.

Frowning, Will walked away from the window and made his way upstairs into his bedroom. It was a decent sized room with a small bed, a desk, an armoire, and a few bookshelves, along with scattered toys and curios across the floor. On the far side of the room was a glass door that opened onto a veranda. Closing his door, Will walked across the room until he a came to his bed. Lifting up the bed skirt, he reached under and pushed on one end of a floorboard, watching the other end spring upwards. Grinning, he took the board away, and pulled out a familiar box.

Opening the box, he glanced at the door to make sure he had locked it. Withdrawing the sword, he unsheathed it and gave it a quick twirl; it was light, yet still heavy enough to hold during battle. Perfectly balanced right above the hilt, Will held it for a moment before tossing it into the air, and grabbing it by the handle. He grinned. Even if his mother was not there, he could still have fun.

He practiced for hours, imagining the posts on his bed were enemies, pretending to almost lose, before making an amazing comeback and disarming the 'enemy'. That was until he got tired and slightly bored with the activity.

Placing his gift back under the floorboard, Will changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed. It was eleven o'clock by then, and he was surprised no maids had come in yet to check on him. Yawning, he lied down, and put out the lantern beside his bed.


After waving her final goodbyes to the Scott's Elizabeth collapsed against the carriage seat, exhausted. Her aunt seemed quite please, her lips in a slight turn upwards.

"Well, that was quite enjoyable."

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes closed.

"It seems you and Thomas Ward were getting well acquainted," her aunt commented.

Elizabeth's lips twitched in annoyance, but she said nothing. Leaning her head against the back of the carriage, she prepared herself for the hour ride back to her aunt's, hoping that she would not be forced to engage her aunt in conversation, after spending the entire night dancing and smiling. She blamed the corset for only giving her body half the amount of air it required for each breath, perhaps the lack of oxygen made her do all those insane things.


Will woke with a start. He had only been asleep for a few minutes when he heard a strange thump, and then a tap. His heart raced in his chest furiously, pounding against his ribcage. He listened again, and there it was.

Tap tap.

Eyes widening, he realized the sound was coming from the glass door, and as he looked over, he saw the silhouette of a body.

Someone is trying to break in!

He was terrified, though he would never admit it. Moving his frozen body, he got onto his hands and knees and reached under his bed, moving the same floorboard and pulling out the same box as he had done a few hours ago. Taking the sword from the box, he stood, trying to breathe easily. He took a step foreword as the tapping persisted. Fear consumed his heart, and he almost darted out the door to find someone, but he knew he could handle this. He was not a little boy anymore.

He was a pirate.

Suddenly feeling an overpowering confidence, Will strode towards the door, sword gripped firmly in his hands. Unlatching the door, he swung it open, the person freezing, straightening upwards as he looked down at Will.

"You're not…" the man began. "Oh bugger."