A/N: I've recently been obsessed with Beckett lately, lol, and I've read a lot of good fanfiction about him, so I decided to write my own...in first person, for the first time xD Also, I apologize in advanced for any mistakes in grammar, use of British language, or out-of canon personalities.

04/02/13: Wow I was re reading this story for memories and I realized that it could totally be improved...Yikes, how embarrassing. So, I will be making modifications!

I sat down in my chair, sulking from the news I've just received two minutes ago from my *cough* dear father named Henry, owner of a large weaponry company, a moderade family man. Earlier, he had led me to the table by the hand, gently sat me down, and had my most favorite dishes of food and a cup of tea brought out for me. As he excitedly informed me that he had met with Cutler Beckett, the governor of the East India Trading Company, my mother sat by his side, continuously smiling with joy and nodding at me. Beckett had asked my father for my hand in marriage, who instantly agreed, probably afraid that this was the only suitor I'd ever get, and he is most likely right, admittedly. In response to this news, I slowly swallowed my food and looked to my mother, Helen, for her to tell me that this was a poorly thought joke. Bad choice, she jumped up and hugged me, congratulating me on my to-be-fiancé, and my father at the same time, talked about how relieved he was of me finally getting a suitor.

First of all, no. Just, no. He hadn't even thought to consider asking for my approval beforehand! Or perhaps he did, but simply did not act on it. Also, this Beckett was unknown to me; he could be an evil overlord who wishes to take over the world and force all to be his slaves, and in hand with him, I would have to endure the jeers of those who opposed him for the simple reason that I am associated with him. That would be a heavy burden.

I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering what I should do. Should I do the same as all the other women of this country and follow into their arranged marriages, never finding their true love and settling for less? Or pointedly decline Beckett in front of everyone? The latter seems much satisfying, yet I knew that would create a controversy.

I stared in the mirror's reflection of my bed, eyes glazed, imagining the scene of when Beckett (I imagine him to be tall, straight back, and of course, with those curled white wigs), proposing to me, and I openly saying no to his request and flouncing off to whenever I can hide before he gets angry and hunts me down, when someone knocked on my door.

"Loraine? Are you awake, my little one? Er, not so little now, eh? May I come in?" My mother's voice rang out. I turned and dived into the safety of my bed, pulling the covers over my head to make it seem as if I was asleep.

"My dear, I would not be the least bit suprised if she were extremely tired after today's news, let her have her rest." My father's voice carried through the door.

"Would you think she would be more excited than tired?" My mother inquired, but then left it at that- You never question your husband's decision- and left with my father.

I grinned to myself. Leaning over, I blew out the candle, and settled back into bed. I got myself comfortable, and started formulating a possible plan to thwart this marriage.

No luck. All the ideas that came to my head were either impossible to achieve or I knew I did not have the actual boldness to carry them out. A coward, 'tis I, I thought to myself. Pfft! As if there were something wrong with that!

After a few weeks, typically, the husband-to-be would visit his wife-to-be, but Beckett has not even shown his face, claiming that he is busied by his company, and had even came to the point where he stated he had to leave for a few months to attend to some more business. I have no complaints. I did not wish to be married off to some stranger in a hurry, but even so, it was rather disappointing. It was as if he didn't want me. I informed my mother of my views on this matter, but she just told me to tell my father, and when I did, he insisted it was the best thing to do, and every other girl has their marriages arranged by their parents also, and to be patient, as "good things come to those who wait." I pressed on, saying that those other girls are brainwashed by society's norms and unable to think for themselves. That earned me a scolding and got sent outside to play with my friends, which is an awful thing to ask of a person with no real friends. It is possible that my somewhat shyness and lack of practiced arse kissing kept everyone from making friends with me. If I had to, I would take lone walks through the busy markets. True, I am 18 years old, and most girls would have already been engaged already and pregnant, but I was scared, to be truthful. I mean, I had curiously asked my mother about the process of baby-making, and she explained to me in detail of birthing. At the end, I had my mouth hanging open and a question; Why the hell would you put yourself through such pain? It seemed horrible to me, and made me further question pregnant women's sanity.

I wandered along the pier, watching the ocean waves and the seagulls. As I watched a young man tie up his boat to the pier, I heard a loud ship blare. I turned, and saw a huge ship. It looked magnificent, elaborately painted gold and blue. I decided I wanted a closer look. As I got closer, I made out the name of the boat. On the side were the words "HMS Endeavour" in shining silver paint. I gaped at it in its magnificance and rich colors. This certainly was a nice ship.

"Oi!" A familiar voice called out. I turned, and saw a few girls I recognized from my etiquette classes.

"Loraine, is it not?" One asked. Her name was Remi. Her long blonde hair was twirling around her, blowing with the wind.

I nodded politely at her, wondering what on earth they wanted.

The one next to Remi, a brunette named Pomil sneered. She probably recalled that one time when I had accidentally trodden on her new dress. Not exactly my fault, she should had been walking faster and hoisting up her skirts like a proper lady. Standing next to Pomil was Hana. Out of those three, Hana was the one I liked most. She was quiet, intelligent, and most importantly, never teased me, though she never really helped me either. She was staring at me, an apologetic look on her face. Why? Was it a sign to run away?

If so, I did not recognize it. I stood there, curious as to know why they took the initiative to start a conversation with me. The wind blowing slightly around us. Finally, Pomil broke the silence.

"We noticed you were looking at the Endeavour."

"This ship?" I asked, dropping my formal speech. No need to waste it on peers.

"Yes." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Next to her, Remi grinned mischievously.

"Do you want to take a peek inside it? My -erm- father owns the ship." She offered, hands showcasting towards the ship. I stood there, still trying to fathom why they were talking to me.

"Er, sure." I said. Remi motioned with her hand for me to follow, which I did. I walked behind them, and when they stopped at the entrance of the ship, I stood near them.

"Well, let's get moving!" Remi said, she climbed up the plank. Pomil threw me a smile, and followed her up. I looked at Hana, about to ask if she was going next.

"I'm not going." Hana said, as though reading my mind. I looked at her, shrugged, and followed them up the plank. I stared around the ship, it looked even huger. The deck was highly polished, reflecting the rays of the sun. I wandered around, lost in my own thoughts and observations, when Pomil came up behind me. I jumped a little.

"Loraine, I found a beautiful dress in one of the rooms of the ship!" She said.

"Really? May I see it?" I said, not really interested in the dress than in what friendship could bloom. It did not matter if I like them or not, they could be just mere friends and that would be enough. How naive of me. Looking back, I was but another naive little girl who believed everything anyone said. Pomil beckoned to me, and I followed her, right down to the brig of the boat. The brig, which I only later found out what it was, a dirtier than the deck of the ship but clean enough to tread along. I thought this was a most inappropriate place for a dress to be in, but then Pomil told me that it was over on the far side of the room, hidden in one of the floorboards. Following her directions, I literally lay on the floorboards, trying to peel one off to get to the dress, not daring to ask for help in fear Pomil would think I was a useless weakling. I sat there, trying in vain to wrench a board out, not even noticing that Pomil was no longer there. When I heard a shout, and then a thundering of footsteps, I jumped up, looking wildly around for Pomil. She left me, that bitch! That is exactly why I disliked trying to make friends. Quickly, I looked around for a place to hide. I ran to a corner that was fortunately cornered by two large cupboards nailed to the floor. I hoisted myself into the hole, and hid there.

More footsteps, none of them actually coming into the brig, which I was not surprised at; it screamed low class. I sat there, trying to be as silent as I could, hoping to be undetected. Hyperventilating a little, I slapped myself softly and grabbed a hold of myself. After a long while, the ship jerked. I fell against the corner, trying to hold on to the walls for dear life, the ship was rocking! It was so scary and weird, just rocking along to what I figured to be the waves. I've never been on a ship before, so while fascinated, I also felt a little sea sick.

Surprisingly, panic only started to settle in a few hours or something after the ship left the pier. I suppose that I had been trying hard to convince myself that it was just a figment of my imagination, perhaps I had tripped and the girls had dragged me off the ship and onto land, and left me there, and I was dreaming. But reality soon crushed that.

I was beginning to panic, have I mentioned? I considered approaching the captain of this ship and asking him to turn the ship around and drop me back home, but I knew that was unlikely. No one would like being a few hours into a journey only to have to turn back for a little brat. What, did I just call myself a brat? Eh, fits.

A few more hours in, I turned to the somewhat brighter side of this situation. No parents to marry me off, but I miss them already…But no marriage! But I'm lonely and hungry…Off to an adventure! That I probably won't return from alive…Every good thought that came to me was knocked out by a contradiction. I figured nothing worse could happen to me other then getting kicked out of the ship, and I gathered up my courage, and left the brig.

I peeked my head out, looking for signs of life. Not finding any, I ran into the room across from me, since it was open. My face was instantly met by hard fabric. Stepping back, I realized they were uniforms, uniforms of the bluecoats. I stared at them, and then grabbed a pair. I slipped back into the brig, and changed my clothes. I don't know what prompted me to do so, but I figured that either way, uniform or not, I'd probably be thrown into the sea. I pulled my hair up and tucked it under the large hat. My chest...well they were never really special in the first place. No mirror to check how I looked, or if I passed, but oh well. I stepped out of the brig, and tried to stealthily climb up the stairs to the top. I wondered where the kitchen was, maybe I could sneak some food, and that thought was answered as footsteps came thundering down, some men enough pushing me, all heading for this one room. I followed, not wanting to look out of place. I was brought into a reasonably sized kitchen. Everyone scrambled for a bowl, and set off to scoop themselves some food, no one throwing me a second glance.

Realizing that this was like war, I ran for a bowl, and off to get some food. I didn't get too much, not wanting to look greedy, but when I was following the ones who had gotten their food back upstairs, I noticed they had grabbed plates of food. Feeling regret at trying to be non-greedy, I followed, making a mental note to try and make the food last. A group of people spilled out on the deck, me included. I had no idea what to do next, until I saw some soldiers take seats randomly on the deck and start digging in their food. I chose a spot close to them, hoping to listen in to their conversation for more information about this ship and its destination.