In black, thunder sounded just before one came even louder. Lightning flashed until there was a singing female voice in the vicious wind.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me...

The thunder came again as the voice continued with a British flag blowing in the wind.

We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho.

This time, rain began to fall over a town which looked like a harbor.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me...

The singing faded as thunder striked once more as a pirate flag was being carried by the wind. A male voice began to narrate.
It was John Silver.

Those were almost the first words she spoke to us.
We remembered her name, her idea, and yet, we still could not forget that it was she who invented it.

Cannon fire sounded as it dueled with another ship, causing explosions on the sea craft. The ship began to sink as its flag blew in the wind.
The flag sank into the depths.

That idea still could change the world. People have killed in the name of it...and died, defending it.

A figure of a boy floated to the surface of the water until he laid on a piece of the ship, drifting to a shore nearby.

We could never kiss it; could never touch it or hold it.

Jamaican peasants ran to the water as they saw the figure drifting, being able to pull him ashore.

It would not feel pain or show love.

Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann run over to the group as they see the unconscious boy before them.
"Get a doctor!", Norrington told his lieutenant, Theodore.

But it was never the idea that we missed.

A gold glimmer shined near them, but they didn't notice.

It was her. A woman that made us remember. A woman, we pirates can never forget.

The story title appears in the darkness of the screen.

Port Royal. The main British port on the island of Jamaica, it was an essential supply post for the British navy - and any other vessel in this area (excluding the Spanish of course). The governor, Weatherby Swann had overseen the British colony for near nine years. He had taken the position after his wife had died, giving himself and his young daughter Elizabeth, a chance at a new place - without all the memories. He had married a bit later in life and though he wasn't fairly old, he was older than most were with a nineteen year old daughter. A daughter who which was set to marry the Commodore Norrington - Governor Swann's chief military advisor and expert in these areas.

The wedding itself was what put the port in a very festive mood. Elizabeth Swann was well liked by most of the inhabitants of the colony. She was sweet, kind, and beautiful. Her wedding to the Commodore was something that the entire colony was going to celebrate.

Well - the entire colony with the exception of maybe Ms. Swann and a certain young blacksmith.

Will Turner stood outside the governor's mansion, the box of the commissioned sword under his arm as he waited for the door to open. He - well, actually his "master" - had been tasked to make a sword for the wedding. It was actually a masterpiece of a sword and the drunken fool who was his master hadn't done a single thing.

The door opened and the servant let him in. "I will inform the governor that you are here." The man said with polite coldness. "Wait here."

Will nodded and stood there patiently as the man left.



The sun was still fairly low in the horizon as Abigail felt the waves lick at her bare feet. Digging her toes into the sand, she couldn't help a grin as she glanced toward her cousin. Having recently arrived from England for her summer holiday, Abigail was glad to be here. It felt like home almost. Though not for long. With her cousin marrying and then her own wedding probably planned in the upcoming year, this was truly the last either of the two would be able to do this.

As it were, neither were really supposed to be here on the beach. But this was a more private area, where not that many people would even notice - presuming any noticed at all.

"I've missed this," she said with a slight sigh as she closed her eyes, the sun warming her face.

She wished she could stay like this forever. On the beach, the waves lapping over her feet, the sun shining down on her. But life wasn't always what one wanted. It was a hard lesson that she had just recently learned herself.

Her eyes opened. "When do you have to get ready for the wedding?" She asked, not really wanting to leave but knowing they'd have to return.

"Sir, you have a visitor", one of the male house servants spoke to the governor upstairs, who was checking his gray, curly wig. Hurrying downstairs, he could spot the young man already there, and he presumed that this young man had the sword that was to be expected at the Commodore's preposition. For him to be governor, it wasn't easy. Looking after his only daughter wasn't easy.

Yes, his daughter. The beautiful Elizabeth Swann; expected to be married off to a wealthy young man to spread the family branch. However, finding the right spouse wasn't simple. In this town, wealthy and low-class don't mix. But, he expected her to find one soon enough. "Ah, Mister Turner! Right on time", governor Swann proclaimed as he approached the young man.

---------------------

Elizabeth knew that she and her younger cousin couldn't resist the beach. For some time, she and Abigail have grown fond of the sea, and have always wondered what laid beyond it. If only their already-prepared life wasn't in the way of their imagination, they could find out for themselves and let the wind carry them. Though it wasn't quite right for a proper lady, Elizabeth agreed to walk with Abigail before the wedding, taking the time to embrace the experience as their one last adventure.

She thought of Norrington to be a very noble man, bound to the law, and always trying his best to let the British empire flourish. Sure, Elizabeth found him handsome and smart, but in a way, she felt that she couldn't exactly choose what she wanted in life. She knew it was the same with Abigail, whom she always considered to be a dear sister to her, rather than a cousin. This wasn't to say that she disapproved her father's decision to marry her off to an attractive, high-ranking man. In fact, she considered it to be the only way for her family to continue the name. That, she will continue to represent, and not bring disgrace upon.

Sticking a little close to the dryer part of the beach, Elizabeth watched Abigail, before looking back out at the horizon; the wind gently blowing her blonde hair. Hearing her cousin speak, she continued to look out in wonder. "I should be right now, but I can't. It's not right for this view to be ignored". She knew they weren't supposed to be here at this time, but she can't just ignore everything. She might as well take in much of the experience as she can.

Will quickly moved away from the candlestick as the governor could be heard coming. He straightened, brushed his jacket down and waited. He gave a slight bow as the man walked in. There was power radiating from Governor Swann. Purpose. Despite the fact the man had been there when he had drifted on the shore, there really hadn't been a lot of connection between the two. Oh, he owed the governor thanks for arranging a place for him to stay before setting him up with an apprenticeship. For that he was grateful. But there was no relationship beyond that. The man had never been an integral part of his life. Despite the fact that Will and Elizabeth had been friends.

"Governor," his tone was polite, his facial expression respectful. He offered up the case. "Just as you requested. My master sends his regards."

Not really. The other man had been drunk that he wasn't really cohesive. But it was all part of the whole act. Nobody cared. Though anyone who really paid attention and came by the shop quickly realized that the older man was barely cognitive and active. It was really Will who did the work. But the charade continued. They'd ask Will for his "master" to make something, he'd tell them it will be done. He makes it and then lets them think what they will.

It was far kinder than he should be but it was something he was used to do. It had started when he was a bit younger and he hadn't wanted to give away the secret. First off, it was a bit humiliating. Second, despite everything, the drunk man had taken him in and taught him. Though still, it was amazing he knew anything.

"Created just like you requested. May I?" He asked taking the sword from the governor. "Perfect balance." He showed the craftsmanship off slightly. He was very proud of this piece. Probably one of the best he had done. He handed it back to the governor. "The Commodore will love it."



Abigail tilted her head slightly to hear her cousin. A smile grew on her lips at the reply. She didn't mind. In fact, she could probably stay here all day. The waves, the sand on her feet, the breeze, the smells, the sights - all of it was so much. She had missed this so bad.

London was nothing like this. You had the rare smell of the ocean but most of the time you had other smells: fish, tar, people, smoke - there were so many other odors in the air that it destroyed the perfect smell of the sea. And then of course the riverbank had no sand. And even if there no people around, you dare not walk barefoot due to getting a splinter or hurting your foot on the wood. Not that she would go barefoot there.

As it was, just going barefoot here would have caused her mother to have a fit. It was completely unladylike and improper. But she loved it. Couldn't resist it. And would dreadfully miss it.

Turning she headed further up the beach to where Elizabeth was. It was amusing her cousin didn't go too close to the waters. If she knew she could get away with it, Abigail would wade even further out and let the waves crash against her. But it was difficult to do so with an overly bearing dress and others would then know what she had done. And that would take away any chance of her coming back here.

Elizabeth knew but they both understood her father would not approve. Nor would Commodore Norrington. Pausing beside her cousin, Abigail looked up at the woman who she considered a sister, someone closer than anyone she ever had known. Even her 'friends' - if you wanted to use that term - back in London held no candle to the relationship she had with Elizabeth."

"Lizabeth," She said, using her nickname for the other girl - the one she had called since first meeting her so long ago. "Are you nervous?" She looked over curious and a bit afraid of the answer. She had yet to tell her cousin that her family had already started looking to engage her and that this would be her last trip out here.

She had meant to but things happened. And of course, the news that Elizabeth was getting married had carried over everything.

The governor sheathed the sword out of its holding as he listened to the young man, immediately marveling the craftsmanship on such a weapon. Throughout the entire meeting, he wasn't exactly interested on the blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill, but kept his regards on the master, being more overly impressed that the master would do such an amazing job in crafting it.

"Impressive. Very impressive. I'm sure the Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly.



Though it wasn't exactly right, Elizabeth had sat right down on the spot she was standing at, right upon a giant rock, that would keep her dress from getting dirty and not letting her father get suspicious. She was wearing the dress that was meant for the wedding, and if she got it full of sand, someone at the ceremony would be more than likely to faint. It would be considered disgraceful and humiliating for the Swann family. For that, she kept an internal promise to not get it ruined.

Her time of gazing at the horizon was interrupted, once again, but knowing that it was only her young cousin talking, Elizabeth didn't get upset. "A little", she admitted, almost too afraid of what he future would bring for the both of them. Their trips to the beach would end, and their visits with Will might cease than normal. Dissapointely, Elizabeth knew that the Commodore would disapprove of William being near his soon-to-be wife, but he had to give the young man some level of regard, since Norrington also played some part in Will's rescue.

She remembered that day like it was yesterday - from finding him, to growing up together. To this day, she still considered him to be one of their closest friends. Sure, Abigail may not know Will that much, but if anything, Elizabeth would trust him to put Abigail in his hands. Now, it felt like those days would officially come to an end after all of the marriage. Life was just unfair, but they were ladies of privilege; everything was arranged, not by their own choices.

After a time, and a sigh, Elizabeth stood up from the spot of where she sat, being very careful in maneuvering herself, in order to not ruin her dress. "We should go", she softly said to Abigail, being internally sad, at the fact that they were leaving their favorite spot in Port Royal.

There was a sense of pride, accomplishment that Will felt when the governor complimented the sword. Of course, he didn't show it. From the governor's point of view, it wasn't Will who had done it but his master. And that was fine. He kept the charade. "I will, Sir." He gave a slight bow.

He lingered slightly hoping he might see Elizabeth but he doubted he'd see her. It was her wedding day and she probably had so much to do. Besides, it was probably for the best. She was getting married. It never really would have worked for him. He was a blacksmith and she the daughter of a governor. He was an orphan washed upon the beach, she was a princess, raised like royalty.

"Congratulations on your daughter's wedding," he said not really feeling it but being polite. With another slight bow he left. Again, it was probably for the best. As much as he'd love to see Elizabeth, talk to her, he knew there was a level of propriety expected. She could never know he has feelings for her. That he cared for her. And now that she would marry, he had to ensure she'd never know.

He left the governor's mansion and started the long walk back to the village below.



Abigail bit her lip. Her gaze turned seaward again. It was strange seeing her cousin, someone who always was a bit of a rock in her life, be nervous. But at the same time, it was probably expected. Every bride to be was nervous. She wasn't even betrothed to someone yet and already her nerves were on edge. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Gentle? Loving? Or would he be harsh? Stern? Would he be old and unattractive or young and gorgeously handsome?

That was one thing Abigail knew Elizabeth had going for her. The Commodore was attractive. He was also a lot older than her but that wasn't uncommon. Though she knew her cousin's heart was really more set on someone else, though neither discussed it and the older girl would probably deny it if confronted. Still....

She sighed as Elizabeth stood and told her they should go. Going over she found her shoes though she didn't put them on yet. Her feet and ankles had sand on them and she would need to clean them off before putting her shoes on. The fact they were wet didn't help any. Not that she was complaining. In fact, she would do it again if she could.

As they headed off the beach and up toward the house Abigail saw Will. A smile formed on her face, not so much for her but for Elizabeth. She personally didn't know Will too much. They interacted while she was in Port Royal but they didn't have the friendship he and Elizabeth had. She nudged her cousin and inclined her head. "Look who came to visit." Her eyes danced as she knew he was the someone her cousin liked.

Taking the case in hand, Weatherby Swann was just about to consider looking for his daughter, until she and his niece just happened to enter the family home...at the right time. He knew that Abigail and Elizabeth had a habit to sneak off, but when it comes to rather important occassion, he would want them to stay put, until everything was in order. But no...they would rather go out and pass the time. He would only have a heart attack if he saw a smudge or stain on his daughter's wedding dress. Thankfully, it would appear that she was being very careful this time. Highly unlike all of her other dresses...

"Oh, would you girls just stay in one place? Here, in the mansion, please?", he asked them, almost exasperated and relieved at the same time. It was like he had an extra child, who would be too much for a single father. "Well, no other. You look absolutely stunning, Elizabeth", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up, and in her wedding dress.

On the other hand, Elizabeth almost didn't hear her father, since she happened to look over at her childhood friend, who appeared to just be leaving. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while putting her shoes back on, almost clumsily, probably due to her excitement of seeing her dear friend.

@AngelBites15

Abigail put a polite apologetic look on her face at her uncle's lecture. She was glad her skirt covered her ankles otherwise, the sight of her sandy feet and ankles would undoubtedly cause even more concern and possible lecturing. As it was, he seemed exasperated with them. Then he turned, getting a bit sidetracked and complimented Elizabeth on her dress.

Abigail kept the smile from appearing on her face. Good. They weren't going to get into any more trouble or have a punishment. The fact Elizabeth was getting married today - something the dress obviously reminded the governor of - would probably wave any annoyance with their escapades. Keeping her shoes behind her back, she watched the slight exchange and then almost grinned again at Elizabeth's response - not to her father but to seeing Will. As well as her fumbled attempt to put on her shoes right there in his presence.

Will, ever the gentleman, kept his gaze on Elizabeth's face, keenly aware that her father was right there as was her cousin. Having been notified of his station before, he kept his expression polite and gave a slight nod to both ladies. "Miss Swan. Miss Ashe."

He had been like this for the past few months - longer in public - whenever he saw one or the other. His feelings for Elizabeth hidden from view as he tried to maintain the cultural requirements of their respected stations. The fact that she was also about to marry also tied into it. The days of calling her by her Christian name was gone.

Abigail, the apex of grace and social mannerism, inclined her head politely back, addressing him just as formerly. "Mr. Turner."

Though they had interacted a bit when she was younger (he and Elizabeth had hung out a lot whenever she came and visited - at least the earlier years), the two of them hadn't really grown close or anything. They had a mutual friend and did things together through her but at the same time, neither really interacted on their own. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Abigail highly doubted Will would have much to do with her.

Not that he didn't like her. No, he was polite, friendly - or had been - and easy going. But there really wasn't much there. Not like what she and Elizabeth shared or what Elizabeth and Will shared.

So it was no difficulty for her to fall into the polite social structure. Well that and the fact, she had been raised extensively in it all her life. London was a lot more sophisticated and had higher expectations than Port Royal.

Still, she watched her cousin, hiding the slight amusement as the 'country' girl didn't seem to care for social structure OR her father being right there and engaged Will as if they were equals and good friends. Also ignoring the fact that both were now adults with that whole set of rigorous societal expectations.

"Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", the blonde young woman asked him, until her father walked off to get the necessary money to pay for the sword. The governor's only daughter, Elizabeth Swann, had the physical appearance of a fine young woman; a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior.

It only took them a few moments to look at each other in the face, before the governor cut back in, giving Will the payment. "Well, we don't want to be late now, do we?", he took the presentation case in hand, and gestured the girls to follow him out to the carriage that was waiting outside. "Come now, Elizabeth. Abigail", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Good day, Mister Turner", she softly said, sounding slightly disappointed to not talk to him a little longer, before following the elderly man out of the mansion.

"Oh, Abigail. Do something about your hair, would you?", Weatherby asked the younger girl, as soon as he noticed her hair to be in such disarray, as they walked towards the carriage.



Both the harbor and the town were bustling with activity; markets selling and buying, and animals communicating with each other, either on the streets or their stables/pens. Leaning in the shade, against one of the barns sat a womanly figure, who appears to be wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western saloon girl; a lace-trimmed, ivory-colored tank-corset with an addition of tight, long-sleeves, and a matching short mini-skirt stopping at her upper thighs. Attached to her back-waist, was a matching ivory organza bustle pooling down to her feet, and revealing her front bare legs. She also appears to be wearing black, lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled dark brown hair was covered by a hood-like piece, that also seems to cover some places of her youthful face. However, despite the coverage of some parts of her face, she seems to be able to gaze out into the market with keen, blue eyes.

Stepping out of the shadows, and revealing more color, the mystery woman strolled casually right past a fruit stand, and snuck an apple from the cart. However, this didn't go unnoticeable. "What-? Hold up there, you", the seller called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and turn back around to walk back towards him. "It’s a shilling for one piece of me fruit", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the cart. Sighing before smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and placed them on the cart. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget this even happened?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her English-accented voice.

The seller seems to consider this as he stepped away. "Welcome to Port Royal, miss", he welcomed her before moving off. She acknowledged the welcome with a nod and a cool smile, before moving past another cart, spotting a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pocketed it and moved on. Thank god, she told Mr. Silver to keep the ship in one of the hidden arches, a few yards away from the dock. 'Do not, under any circumstances, engage', she remembered telling him. With the vessel hidden between too rock formations, it would be increasingly difficult to spot, even to the eyes of the patrolling British. However, she knows that the ship can't stay camouflaged forever.

@Black Ninja

@AngelBites15

"Just once more." Will's polite smile never faded as he looked back at Elizabeth. He knew his answer didn't please her. Nor had his more recently distancing of himself from her. She wanted to be friends and though he wouldn't mind spending time with her, propriety demanded something different. Not only looking at the cultural aspect of an unmarried man and woman but also the financial class difference, which would guarantee that he'd never be able to marry her even if she was interested.

He stared at her for a moment before the governor's voice kicked in. Giving a nod back, he wished them a good day as well before leaving.

Abigail made her way into the carriage, her hands moving up to her hair at her uncle's remark. It wasn't that bad, was it? She had done it first thing that morning but then again, that was before she went out onto the beach and enjoyed the wind her hair and face. Hanging back a moment, she quickly brushed the sand off her feet and ankles so she could put her shoes back on. Accepting help into the carriage she quickly fixed her hair best she could.

The carriage ride down the little mountain wasn't that long. They passed the walking Mr. Turner as they wound their way further down. Abigail watched him for a brief moment before her eyes shifted over to her cousin. She knew there was something there, had been for some time, and was a bit more than even her cousin realized. However, she also knew that life rarely went that way. Raised in London society, the concept of love was a romantic aspect that was played with but no one ever took seriously. One did not marry for love - ever. Love might come after the fact but it was never the deciding factor in an arrangement. At least not in the upper classes.

In a way, she figured Elizabeth knew this. She was marrying the Commodore. Though, how much was it she was following tradition and how much was it she didn't realize how much she loved Will?

It was a bit amusing and sad almost to see something her own cousin didn't fully accept or notice herself. Abigail wondered if there was anyone she actually loved but was too blind to see it. Not that it mattered.

The carriage arrived at its destination. The wedding was going to take place at the top of the fort battlements, looking out over the bay. A beautiful location.

@Black Ninja

Meanwhile, at the harbor, the mystery woman made her way towards the dock, attempting to cooly pass two redcoats that were on sentry duty. Before she could saunter past them, they were immediately alert, running up to block her path. "This dock is off-limits to civilians", one of them told her. "I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know. If I happen to see one, I'll let you know", she kept it cool with a hint of innocence as she, once again, attempted to move around them, only to find herself blocked again. How was she going to do this? Now, she knew.

"I heard there’s an event going on up at the fort. Tell me, how can two upstanding gentlemen like yourselves, not merit an invitation?", she half-curiously asked them. "Miss, someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians", the other marine responded. "That's very true, but there's one thing that's nagging the back of my mind. A ship like that", she gestured to the Dauntless in the distance. "...does, unfortunately, make this one a bit downgraded, really", she commented while gesturing to the Interceptor, perched at the dock.

"The Dauntless is the power in these waters. But there’s no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed", one of them said to her as he talked about the ship. "I’ve heard of one, supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable. Ever heard of the Fancy", she gave a breathed out the name. Clearly, they were confused. Not ringing a bell. "A ship, captained by a man; so evil, that hell itself spat him back out", she told them with grim in her eyes.

One of them scoffed. "No", he chuckled with amusement. "It's a real ship, you know. I've seen it", the other told him, only for his comrade to turn to him. "So you're telling me, that no ship that's captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out couldn't possibly be any other ship than the Fancy? Is that what you're saying?", he patronized him. None of them noticed the woman slipping past them unnoticed as they continued to argue. "No", he answered, shaking his head.

"Like I said, there’s no ship that can match the Intercept..", he trailed off when he noticed that she wasn't there. Looking around, they spotted her standing at the wheel of the Interceptor, casually examining the mechanism. "Hey! You!", she looked at them with exaggerated, innocent surprise. They hurried towards her and raised their muskets. "Get away from there! You don't have permission to be aboard!", they told her. "I’m sorry, it’s just...it’s such a pretty boat. I mean, ship", she innocently corrected.

"What's your name?", one of them asked. "Smith", she responded casually, almost too casually. "What's your purpose in Port Royal? No lies", they demanded. "Okay, okay", she smoothly feigned defeat. "It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise, pilfer my weaselly black guts out", she answered with a bit of a ramble. "We said, no lies!", one of them told her. "Think she's telling the truth", the other said. "If she were telling the truth, she wouldn't have told us", the other argued. "Unless, you wouldn't believe the truth, even if I told it to you?", the mystery woman cut in as they seem to consider it. It wasn't exactly the truth...

That was when they heard the sound of something hitting the water nearby, narrowly missing the jagged rocks, and causing them to turn their attention to the source. The brunette-haired woman and the sentries looked over the side of the ship and noticed a ripple. "Aren't you gonna go see what that was?", she asked them in curiosity. "I can't swim", he simply answered as his comrade shakes his head. Neither does he? So be it. Not surprised, the female gave a groan of frustration. "Prides of the King's Navy, you are. Do not lose these", she first scoffed before handing them her pistol, and her sword belt. Climbing onto the railing, she dove into the water, making her hooded headpiece come off.

Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her.

Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad.

Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else.

The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help.

Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again.

She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed.

Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.

Trying to register what fell in, the sentries looked at each other, before a gust of wind comes up, forcing them to hold their hats.

Abigail's unmoving form hit the bottom of the shallow ocean, and the brunette-haired woman swam down to her as fast as she could, eventually wrapping an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress.

As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, and the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slipped one her knives out from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs.

Just by seeing the young girl cough up the water, the mystery woman now knew for a fact that the damn corsets made for the English women, were not suitable in a place like Port Royal. Many times, she had worn fancy corsets, but that didn't mean she would proudly wear one now, or ever, for that reason.

The brunette tossed the torn corset aside. For some, she was one of a few on her ship that would even express any sympathy to colonists who were not buccaneers. She usually stole from the wealthy, but didn't really expect an opportunity in rescuing one from distress. More likely, a damsel. By the looks of this girl, she was rather young. So, why not?

Impressed and dumbfounded, the sentries didn't speak for a moment. "Never would have thought of that", one of them admitted. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore. Impressed?", she rolled her eyes before looking back at the young girl laying before her. But before she thought of anything else, something gold, with a skull, was right before her, exposed. Taking a good look at the round medallion, a question rose out of her. "Where did you get that?", she softly demanded.

Fighting, Abigail tried to get back to the surface but the disorientation and her heavy skirts made it nigh impossible. As she clawed at the water, sinking deeper, she thought it strange that she would die by the one thing she loved the most. She started to see spots even as her lungs burned from needing air. Her hands fell limp, resistance slipping out of her even as the spots grew larger. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she felt something grabbing her arm but the thought barely registered before she blacked out.

Her next conscious thought was coughing. Sitting upright, she coughed out the water she swallowed as she oriented herself. She was on a pier. Stripped down to her underdress with two soldiers standing above her and a woman leaning over her. Her eyes went to the cut corset beside them and the knife in the woman's hands. It didn't take a genius to realize that the woman had just saved her life.

Before she could even express any gratitude, the question came at her. She frowned glancing down. Hanging there, catching the rays of the sun was the skull gold piece. Embarrassed and a bit worried, she stuffed it under her undershirt having not wanted others to know she wore it. Elizabeth knew - but then again, what did Elizabeth NOT know about her? Well, minus the marriage proposal. But no one else knew she carried a piece of pirate gold around her neck. She didn't know fully why she did but at the same time she didn't like to leave it around. Though, in London, she usually had to hide it if she went to a formal event. The intimacy of some of the dances would have someone spot the chain. But in most cases, she wore it. Hidden. Close to her heart.

"It's nothing," she said quickly sitting up. She regretted her harsh outburst, especially as the woman just saved her life. "It's...not something I'd like to discuss," she said quietly. Then she turned her head to look at the woman before her. The woman was just as wet but it was the attire that surprised Abigail. It wasn't something that normal, everyday woman wear. But then again, she was in her underclothes here as well.

Throwing her arms around the woman, she hugged her. "Thank you for saving me," she said pulling away, even as a commotion could be heard as those above were finally making their way to her.

It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...hugging her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice.

The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was.

Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend?

Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, tyrannical. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. At least I don't have to say my real name, she thought before making her response. "Black. Vivienne Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage.

The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her weapons. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin’ about stealing a ship.”

Abigail looked over as the guards and Elizabeth came running up. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of her cousin. Though it turned a bit embarrassed and sheepish as she was pulled to her feet. "I'm fine," she said. "I wasn't watching where I was standing." The coat was nice but she really wasn't cold. The water was warm and at the moment she still had adrenaline running through her veins. Despite the fact her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair plastered behind her. Her parents would have a conundrum if they saw her now. Her uncle made up for that. "I'm fine," she repeated a bit unsettled with all the concern and attention.

As her rescuer introduced herself, Abigail turned and looked at her, the smile growing wide. The smile vanished at the accusation from the redcoats. Drawing herself up to all the authority she was accustomed to, she glared at them. "She saved my life." Her tone held rebuke at the insinuation that her rescuer would be anything but good. The woman saved her. Pulled her out of the water when she would have drowned. That alone had to indicate the woman had a virtuous heart. That she was good. Therefore, Abigail was appalled that anyone would even dare suggest the woman was capable of evil. There was undoubtedly a good explanation to the whole thing.

Moving away from Elizabeth, her chin lifted, she stepped almost in front of Vivienne. Her chin lifted as she turned her attention toward the Commodore and her uncle. "She saved my life," she repeated again. "An individual risking their own for a complete stranger cannot be someone with ill intent." She looked at the redcoats, her tone, body language, and facial expression indicating her status as the daughter of a lord with all the authority within. "Return her things to her." She looked at Vivienne. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." There was not a hint of her annoyance with the soldiers on her face as she turned to look at her rescuer. "You saved my life. I am in your debt."

She might have the bearing of someone in the court but her eyes gave away just how young she was. Not to mention the very fact she presumed Vivienne's innocence based on her actions showed a bit of a naivety on the girl's part. "I'm Abigail Ashe, daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy." She stepped aside slightly. "This is my uncle and my cousin - Governor Swann and Elizabeth. And her fiance, Commodore Norrington."

With the pride of a hostess, she stepped aside so they could properly great each other, not fully understanding the slight distrust that the Commodore and her uncle showed. A hint of concern flickered on her face as she glanced at Elizabeth hoping her cousin would shed some light on the poor response they were showing.

Honestly, Vivienne wasn't sure on what to do in such a predicament: being surrounded by thousands of "red coats", plus their commander. Hearing the girl, now "Abigail", protest against the roguish woman's fate, the brunette couldn't help but feel slightly amused at the attempt. “Pleased to make your acquaintance”, the brunette responded politely; although there was a slight mockery to it, she made it sound genuine, with that same smile from before.

Commodore Norrington raised an eyebrow, and then smiled at Vivienne, really because of Abigail’s introduction. He then bowed slightly and took her hand, as if to kiss it, in greeting, like a proper gentleman. However, that rising feeling of distrust got wrapped around his head, only making him pull her forward, and slide the shoulder-sleeve of her dress down. There it was, and that lingering suspicion rant true: Pirate tattoo. "Pirate”, he declared, smirking as the brand became visible on her shoulder.

Vivienne thought this situation would become bright, and that she would be able to slide away on good terms. However, that was before the reveal of her true status. She knew she was in trouble. Pirate. The word made her bite her bottom lip in defeat. "Guards, escort this woman to the jail. She'll hang in the morning”, in response to the order, a few soldiers came forward and took Vivienne, by the upper arms, and guided her to the other side of the pier. The said-woman stayed quiet and listened. Listening, and scanned her surroundings; it was perfect.

"No!" Abigail quickly moved to follow them, trying to push herself between the guards and Vivienne. She ignored the protest the others made and lifted her chin. "She saved my life. Is this how we repay her?" She demanded using every ounce of authority her mother had drilled into her. The power of being the daughter of a lord. The ramifications that came with it. "We can't execute her. She could have escaped while the guards were distracted when I fell. But instead, she risked her life for mine. I won't allow it."

Of course, her stubbornness was just waved aside. Her uncle, though seeming to like her, didn't really agree. "Move aside, Abigail." He ordered. "She's a criminal. She might have saved your life but it doesn't justify her actions."

Abigail frowned, not understanding why the Commodore and her uncle seemed intent on punishing someone who rescued her. Her gaze glanced over at Vivienne. She didn't look like a pirate. Was there even such a thing as female pirates? It was doubtful. Seemed odd to her. Pirates were these old men with missing limbs or teeth. Foul and seeming the worst of society. Not a woman who, though dressed in a mannerism not really fitting everyday wear, risked jumping into the water to save her.

"Abigail, if you won't move, I'll have the guards remove you. You don't understand. And frankly you are probably disillusioned at the moment. That was a long fall. We need to get you to a doctor to make sure you are alright." The governor waved a hand for a couple guards to move her out of the way.

"Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the outside world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!?

They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift and evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck.

With a devious smile, the pirate looked at Norrington and everyone else before her and captive. "I must thank you for warming up to me, Commodore", she recalled in a respectful albeit taunting tone. However, there was no threat in her words. She didn't wish to harm the girl, but to just prove a point. Vivienne, however, did recall something interesting about Abigail: she cared about the pirate woman's fate. Interesting...

She was sparing her from the hangman's noose, but, who wouldn't? Everyone against piracy. That's who. But this one? How interesting... "Commodore Norrington, now if you would, please? My effects?", the brunette called back in that same tone between taunting and respecting. She needed her things, and this girl was her ticket out of a tight spot. As they were starting to pass them her things, Vivienne, now holding the girl hostage, whispered to her, so she could only hear. "Your name's Abigail, isn't it?", she asked her in curiosity.

Abigail frowned not at all liking this. The heavy cuffs were placed on her rescuer, her own protests completely ignored. She turned once more to lecture her uncle and the Commodore before she found herself quickly pulled up against Vivienne, a knife placed against her neck.

It was strange. One would think she should be terrified or even furious that the person she was trying to help would take her captive. But she felt neither. In fact, she was a bit impressed and almost glad that the woman had done this. Even if she was the one that was hostage. She had no fear that she would get killed or even hurt but she knew from the looks of the others, they didn't completely know that either. Which meant, she was foolish or that they just didn't understand. She didn't think it was the former. The woman risked her life to save hers. Why then would she attempt to hurt her? No. She might be foolish - and undoubtedly will get a lecture from her cousin, uncle, the Commodore and eventually down the line, her parents - but she was glad.

Standing rigid, with the dignity of her class, she made no move, her breathing calm as the woman spoke. The woman was intelligent. She figured out how to make the best of a bad situation. A hostage - especially someone like her - would be key in helping her escape. Abigail was a bit proud of that.

She accepted the things from the Commodore and turned slightly, the blade still at a dangerous level, as she put them back. "Yes it is." There was no fear in her tone or anger.

So she was a pirate. It still seemed strange and Abigail wasn't sure she completely believed it. Whoever the woman was though, she was amazing. Skilled, intelligent, nice. Even pretty in her own way. And - she didn't seem to have the shackles of class holding her down. Abigail felt a bit envious.

Her back to her friends, family, and 'rescuers', Abigail met the woman's gaze calmly. "Thank you for saving me," she said quietly. "I sincerely hope you escape. If you make it that far, there's a small cave on the north side of the island. The entrance is usually blocked by the tide but it's dry inside." She spoke quickly and very quietly as she placed the gun and sword into the woman's belt. Taking her time in order to get the words out. Finishing, she gave a slight nod before turning back around.