Title: A Tale of Two

Chapter 1: Unsettling Illusions

"You'd best start believin' in ghost stories, Miss Turner; you're in one!"

Sitting up with a gasp, Elizabeth Swann carefully wiped the sweat from her brow. Her once finely kept hair was in tangles around her shoulders and neck as strands clung to her pale, moist skin. Gulping air into her lungs her racing heart began to slow as she looked around her room. Familiarity began to creep in. Her nightmare of the cursed pirates was fading and the lamp next to her bed dashed away the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the orange glow.

Standing, she made her way to her bedroom window, the shutters clanging against the outside pane as she peered past the gardens and into the town of Port Royal. The Fort was barely active in the moonlight, a few scattered guards keeping a watchful eye over the calm waters of the Pacific as merchants around the local tavern sang, their voices odd and out of tune with one another as they swayed back and forth.

A smile brightened her upset features as a recognizable orange-red glow emanated from the blacksmith's shop.

"A ghastly hour to be working in a smoldering sweatshop, if I do say so myself." She mumbled as she stepped into a light dress, buttoning it up to her collarbone. Sliding into her soft shoes she lifted the lantern with slender fingers and she made her way from her room into the dark hallway.

Slipping unnoticed from the large mansion she made her way knowledgeably through the streets and by-ways of Port Royal. Coming to a stop in front of the large wooden door, heat emanating from the inside through the cracks in the splintered slabs of dried and faded wood, snoring caught her attention. She spotted the unconscious form of Mr. Brown in a corner next to the small stairway. A bottle of whisky in one hand and an iron in the other. The disgusting old man always repulsed her. With a grunt she opened the door quietly, the creaking of the rusted hinges going unheard by the loud pounding of metal against metal.

She stood behind the blacksmith, in awe at the skill he had mastered in the years that she had known him. Nine years had passed since the fateful day where young Will Turner drifted aloft in the sea before being saved by the ship they sailed toward the islands. What was once a little boy afraid of many things emerged a young man who had conquered pirates and saved her life on more than one occasion.

Stopping to wipe his brow, the curled ends of his dark brown hair hung loosely around his forehead and cheeks as it escaped from the tie that held the majority of the tresses in place.

"You know, Will Turner, your work habits are beginning to catch my attention. Long nights in this shop will be put to an end, come next week." Her voice made him smile, catching her amused grin through her words. He turned to face the voice, setting the hammer down with a clank as he spotted her near the entrance. Silhouetted against the dark background of the wooden walls, her slight figure leaned casually against a beam as her eyes shone in the lamp light.

"You know, Elizabeth Swann, it is not necessarily wise to sneak up on a blacksmith. Especially one wielding a hammer." He warned as he began toward her, lifting a relatively clean piece of cloth to his face and hands as his rolled sleeves bounced at the elbow. The classy but humble medium-length vest was held firmly to his waist by a belt as his trousers dove deep into the top of his black boots.

"I thought you fancied yourself a pirate?" She questioned stepping closer to him, lifting a cynical eyebrow.

"I am much too humble to be a pirate."

"Not true. I've seen you carry out many noble deeds while under the label of Pirate."

"Such as?" He asked quietly, his voice deep as he reached her side. Moving around behind he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. His large thumbs moved in circles over her tense muscles as she sighed and leaned into his warm chest.

"I had the dream again." She muttered, pulling away from him as she walked over to the far wall. Beautiful swords adorned the carved rack as she lightly touched the handle of a gold plated blade. "It's like he...he lives inside my head."

She turned to face him, tears blurring her vision. With a few long strides he had her in his arms, his roughness at the mere thought of losing her again forcing the air from her lungs. He loosened his grip and held her gently.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, Elizabeth. I'll be a pirate if it will calm your fears." The emotion in his voice and eyes caught her off guard as she nodded leaning into his embrace.

The door to the shop was thrown open and hit the wall with brute force as Commodore Norrington and three armed guards stood at the entryway.

"Miss. Swann, your father is in a fright. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" He questioned her as though she was a child, his harsh tongue not going unnoticed by the young blacksmith.

Elizabeth pulled herself free from Will's arms and strode over to the soldier, hands on her hips.

"Commodore, I digress to remind you that I am indeed not a child; nor one of your soldiers to command. If I so desire to meet with my betrothed, then I shall."

"In the middle of the night is hardly the appropriate time for an interlude, Miss. Swann. Your father is waiting for you at home and he asked me personally to deliver you to his doorstep. I shall not leave him waiting." His stance was such that he seemed to ooze command, expecting all of those around him to bend to his will.

She sighed, turning to look back at Will and he smiled, nodded his head in compliance.

"I will see you tomorrow, Will; for the fitting?" She questioned and at his nod she left a hesitant kiss on his cheek and hurried out the door.

"I would think that you would have enough common sense to shield Miss. Swann from unfriendly eyes. Especially those who see her nighttime excursions to this shop; though I do frequently remind myself that you are just a blacksmith. Anything higher on the scale and you would be arrested." Norrington spat with jealous eyes as he turned to leave, the white curls unmoving beside his head as his blue pointed hat sat high atop his head.

"Then let us all be thankful that I am not just a blacksmith, but a pirate." Will commented, seeing the Commodore's shoulders and back stiffen at the remark, slamming the door behind him. Lifting his hammer he placed the elongated shaft of iron into the burning embers with a triumphant grin on his face and resumed his work.

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