It was meant to be a day of complete happiness. A day which was dreamed about for years an advance. A day full of love and laughter. But for Elizabeth Swann it was a day which signified the beginning of the end. The end of what little freedom she had. It was her dreams shattered. There would be no chance of another adventure. No more days spent on the sea, with the pirate Jack Sparrow. She had never even had to chance to weild a sword against an enemy. All of the excitement that she had felt for the past year seemed that it would be the last she experienced. By that rainy afternoon she would have signed her prison sentence and would be subject to the boring life of a blacksmiths wife, with an abundence of children that she did not care to have screaming all around her as her husband complained about his hard days work.

Why had she even said that she loved William? Elizabeth asked herself that question over and over were a few explanations that she had given to herself for being so careless with her feelings. That she was young and frivilous; at sixteen of course she said that! And yet, she was only now seventeen and there she sat knowing that it was all a mistake. Perhaps it was that she did love him. He was a very good friend and always had been, but at the time she hadn't duduced that loving someone did not mean that one was in love. William had been so heroic at the time and it struck a cord in her immature heart. The decision was too hasty and if not in the moment she would have never mentioned feelings for him; she might be marrying James Norrington instead. In recent days she begun to think the commodore would have been a better match. At least he was an adventurer of sorts and had plenty of stories to tell. But now he was gone too, resigned and missing. Elizabeth felt guilty for his decent and wondered often what had become of him in the months since his defeat. However, all of these revelations were made far too late and now she sat alone in her chambers wearing a dreadfully ichy dress as she contemplated the ramifications of making a run for it. It was only the knowledge of the pain and suffering that it would bring to her father which stopped her from doing so.

Elizabeth let a sharp breath pass through her parted lips.

A surprisingly cool breeze danced through her quiet chambers, let in by the balcony doors that were left open for air. The fresh air calmed her nerves. It also brought with it the smell of flowers; Calla Lillies to be specific. An ornate vase held the purple flowers on the mahogany side table next to the balcony. Elizabeth focused her eyes on the flowers, jarring her from her taxing thoughts. She stood and glided over to investigate. A small folded parshment paper was placed just beneath the edge of the vase, keeping it from fluttering away in the wind. Her long nimble fingers retrieved the note and tore it out of it's small cream colored envelope.

Written on the parchment, in very good handwriting was as follows:

Best wishes,
Lord Cutler Beckett
East India Trading Company

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in interest. 'Cutler Beckett...' she murmured to herself.

The name rung no bells to her. Most of the flowers she had received were from guests who had been invited to the wedding, though she knew it could have been one of her fathers additions to the guest list. It was odd, in her opinion, that this man decided to send Calla Lillies. It seemed a tad ambiguous, to choose the poisonous purple flowers for a wedding. Elizabeth dismissed the curious thought; just because she was miserable didn't mean everyone else was. For a moment she eyed the purple petals in morbid thought. What part of the plant was poisonous? And how poisonous was it? She took one of the velvety petals between her fingers and let her mind wonder on the possibilities. Perhaps a small dose would make her ill enough to miss the wedding... Or might it bring death? Would death be so horrible in the face of all that she wanted in life being thrown to the wind? Her father would be distraught, but at least he would know where she was, eight feet under the earth, unlike if she were to run away with pirates.

Elizabeth pulled one of the petals from the flower and held it to her parted lips. She breathed in it's faint scent.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. 'Miss Swann we really must be leaving now if we are to make it on time.' Said her maid, Henrietta, from the other side of the wooden door.

Elizabeth let the petal fall from her fingers with a sigh.

It was all humiliating. After two hours of being reassured by her father that William was only running a little late, Elizabeth knew she had been the one left at the alter. She sat in the cold rain while all of her guests had taken cover under the chapels promenade. It was better this way, so that she did not have to hear their whisperings of speculations and rumors to one another. Never had Elizabeth had such conflicting emotions over a situation; she was both so joyous and yet very cross. Joyous, for the wedding had not yet happened and perhaps this blunder could be remedied by that fact. For now she was free to back out of the engagement and not a soul would blame her if she did! Yet she was cross that she, the party in this matter who did not want to be married, was the one left to be gossiped about. It was she who had to suffer such a shame, not William. And it was she who was having her ego battered. It should have been the other way round, but it hadn't been because she was too kind to break his heart! Elizabeth regretted more than anything that she hadn't denied that they should marry. But she felt bitterly that this was her penance. She had abandoned and lied to James, led Jack on, and made William think that there was more love for him in her heart than there really was. Now she would pay for it all. It was a difficult admission to make for one with as much pride as Elizabeth.

The croud of wedding attendees suddenly gasps and the whispers grew louder. The group parted, making way for armed soldiers and in their grasps, a shackled William.

Elizabeth abandoned all thoughts and lurched to her feet, picking up her skirts heavy from the weight of water. In the matter of seconds she was face to face with her husband to be. 'Will,' she uttered as she approached. 'Will why is this happening?' It was meant to be spat at him in the upmost disapproval for his arrival and his abandonment of her. But she was terrified that she might be the next to be arrested if it had anything to do with Jacks escape.

'I don't know,' he said firmly. 'You look beauti-'

'Make way let me through.' These words cut William's sentiment short. It was the appauled voice of Weatherby Swann as he unapologetically pushed through the croud of wedding guests. 'How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?' The commands were directed at the only figure facing away from the scene.

The man turned. He wasn't one that Elizabeth recognized from Port Royal or Kingston. She deduced that he was very wealthy based on his clothing choice and the white wig that topped his head. His cloak came off and he handed it to a waiting guard. 'Govenor Weatherby Swann it's been too long,' came the mans aristocratic drawl.

'Cutler Beckett?' Weatherby knew this man.

'It's Lord now, actually,' Lord Cutler Beckett corrected arrogantly.

'The Calla Lilies!' Elizabeth's mind sounded off. 'They were from Lord Cutler Beckett.'

The two guards stopping Weatherby from attending to his daughter now let him through. 'Lord or not,' he put a reassuring hand onto Elizabeth's shoulder as to comfort her. 'You have no reason and no authority to arrest this man!'

'In fact I do,' retorted Lord Beckett in a matter-of-factly tone. 'Mister Mercer,' he called nonchalantly and was immediatly supplied a leather envelope containing several documents by an angry looking man who must have been Mister Mercer. 'The warrent for the arrest of one William Turner,' he handed over the document to Weatherby with a hint of haughtiness.

Weatherby sighed in defeat as he took the warrant. But defeated turned into confusion and concern. 'This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann,' his voice cracked under the pressure of the situation.

Elizabeths heart sank. It was as she feared.

'Oh is it? That's annoying, my mistake,' Lord Beckett said as if it weren't a pressing matter as he glanced at the warrant. It hardly seemed like a mistake, rather a cruel jest. 'Arrest her.'

'On what charges?' Elizabeth blurted out as she weakly struggled against the guards that were quick to put her in heavy iron shackles. Her heart was beating fast. It was surely for her small part in Jack Sparrows escape. Abetting a pirate, a law that she knew well was punished swiftly at the gallows. She felt that she may faint.

'Aha, here's the one for William Turner-' Lord Beckett waved the document light heartedly, before handing it over to Weatherby- 'And I have another one for a Mister James Norrington.' He held this one up in the air with one hand while the other one rested cooly on his hip. It was as if he were handing out invitations rather than death sentences. 'Is he present?'

'What are the charges?' Elizabeth bellowed again, this time a little more demanding as she thrashed against the two guards still working to secure her. The iron shackles scraped at her boney wrists as she struggled.

'Commodore Norrington resigned his comission some months ago,' Weatherby informed solemnly, as he read over and over again his daughters warrant in disbelief.

'I don't believe that was the answer to the question that I asked,' Lord Beckett sneered.

'Lord Beckett,' William finally spoke after remaining silent through the ordeal, 'in the category of questions not answered-'

Elizabeth cut his words short, not willing to rely on any arguement of Williams. '-we are under the jurisdiction of the Kings Govenor of Port Royal. And you will tell us what we are charged with.' Her words were much sharper now as the spitfire and stubborness that she was born with came back to her with the fading shock.

'The charge,' Weatherby read outloud from the warrant, 'is conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the crown and empire, and condemned to death,' it seemed that the aging man was losing his breath with every word spoken, 'for which the-' Weatherby couldn't bring himself to speak the words that he read.

'-for which the punishment, regrettably, is also death.' Lord Beckett finished for the distraught father.

No one spoke. Elizabeth felt that she could vomit at any moment. It wasn't for herself that she faced this distress, but for her father who would have to look forward to her execution if she could not wiggle her way out of it. She realized now how horrible it would be for him. He would be left alone in their manor and it pained her deeply to think of him in such a state. It could not happen. No matter what she had to do, it was not going to happen.

'Perhaps you remember a certain pirate name Jack Sparrow-'

'-captain' both Elizabeth and William corrected with a small glance at one another. Only Elizabeth continued. 'Captain Jack Sparrow.'

'Captain Jack Sparrow,' was Lord Becketts calculating responce. 'Yes I thought you might.'

WRITERS NOTE

Hello party people. This is the first fanfiction I have ever written and I think I'm writing for one of the least popular ships in the POTC fandom. I think. I for one can't find hardly any fanfictions for Beckabeth. The very few I do find, most are really good, but then the rest start out so well and then the author leaves them in chapter three. Or it starts out sort of Beckabeth and then after hours of reading what I think is a slow burn surely working up to sexual nonsense, it turns out to be Beckabeth friendship land and I did not sign up for all that. Anyways, if you are more of a Willabeth or whatever Jack/Liz is, you might not be into this. I just like a baddie. Who doesn't? Oh and this is so late in terms of this ship, but Sky just added all of the POTC movies and it brought be back. ANYWAYS. I blab way too much even when I'm only typing. The title might change, I don't know, my name is Calla so it just kind of popped in my head. This will maybe probably be a slow burn. Real slow. There could be quite a lot of plot as I am going to try to stick with the original plot. Honestly though I have no idea where this is going, but I promise I will write it to the end so if you stay along for the ride you'll love it or maybe you'll think it's total shit so win win or lose lose who knows. Also this is basically being written in the dead of night and probably will contain grammar errors and a few mistakes. I will fix as I notice.