In September of 2009 my friend Stutley Constable expressed an interest in writing a few oneshots with unusual pairings (ones that are not Sparrabeth or Willabeth). We decided that it would be fun to cooperate on such an undertaking. This story and eleven others are the products of that venture. We hope you will enjoy them.

~Estrella and the Becketts~

The Highest Ground

"My Lady, it really is necessary," I said to her, pleading. If she wouldn't go along with this I would for sure lose my job. He would cast me aside, and all for this pirate woman he called wife.

"According to him," Anamaria answered shortly. I bowed my head inferiorly, as I should to recognize her disagreement. Although I might act submissive to her will, underneath the false politeness we both knew what I really thought. "I'll tell him it was my own choice, not yours."

I nodded again, the only way it seemed I could show my gratitude. Serving this mistress was much different than the last. Anamaria might have had just as much of a fiery spirit as Elizabeth, but she didn't put as much effort into disguising it. That, and Anamaria was far less loved in my heart and mind. I'd as soon she went back to her pirate ship and lost cause than walk ahead of me, leaving me to trip on the train of her dress.

A dress that she would never equal in worth. No pirate would walk through my house with her chin held so high.

Having just been contradicted by her, in a house she knew almost nothing about set my teeth on edge. Of course she was going to refuse the dress. She hated him, and any gift that came from him. She said it often. We all knew. We all spoke of it.

I didn't understand it. Yes, he had blown her ship to pieces. Yes, he had captured her and taken her from the sea. In doing so, he had taken her from the endless nights of hauling buckets in the cold, manning a splintered wheel only for the purpose of steering a ship God knows where so that they might find provisions to last one hundred more cold nights, sleeping in a disease-infested hold.

It was disgusting.

"My Lady, you do not want to displease him. It isn't wise to de—"

"And who are you to tell me what isn't wise? You are my servant. You mustn't tell me what I shouldn't do. You don't know him as I do. I am his wife, and I remain so until I die here, as he has told me every day since I was released from my manacles. Do not think you know him or I best, Estrella. You serve me, not him. You do as I command, whether it displease him or not. Don't think I don't know what you are to him. Don't make the mistake of thinking I care either."

I met her eyes; saw her there, inside them. It was dark, strong, frightening. I couldn't hold their glare with my own. I lowered my gaze to the floor. I watched the swish of her tattered train turn in front of me, and when her footsteps reached the door I raised my chin a fraction higher and strode out after her.

By the time we had reached his office I had overtaken her. I felt some satisfaction in touching the doorknob first, until I realized that I would still have to open the door for her to pass ahead of me.

"My Lord," I curtsied quickly to the man behind the desk then swept to the side to let Anamaria in. She walked straight to the desk and stood before it, her posture indicating that she would not be brushed aside as usual. He would speak to her today and she wouldn't take what he gave her. I sighed quietly to myself and turned my eyes to the window instead. Fog again. Fog always.

"Beckett," Anamaria addressed him curtly.

"My dear wife," Cutler replied in a near monotone. At first I had had to learn not to laugh whenever she greeted him with his last name. Now I found it too disrespectful, her being to him what she was. I had learned right from childhood to respect the man of the family. The fact that she had no such education went from amusing to infuriating in a fortnight.

I walked to the window and when I could feel the cold penetrating the glass, cooling the air just before it, I managed to tune them out. It would rain today, that I was sure of, as it had rained yesterday and would no doubt rain tomorrow. I placed my hands on the waist-high windowsill and after twenty minutes I started to sag. I will fall asleep here before she's finished talking. I would watch the rain come, then. Perhaps once it has passed she will be done.

"That's all," he said.

"No!" She replied loudly, waking me. "That's not good enough! You promised me you would allow me that. I won't put up with it."

"I've threatened it before," he said evenly, and I easily recognized the angry look in his eyes. "I'll threaten it again. If you don't do as directed—"

"You wouldn't dare take my children from me. They are your own. They are all you have left to bargain with."

"I wouldn't be so—"

"My Lord!" The butler broke into the conversation. "A visitor for Miss Beckett."

Cutler stared at him. Then, "very well, go on," he said and waved Anamaria away with a flick of his wrist.

She paused, looked at him for a moment longer then turned.

"And Maria, I will have the servants burn that dress if you insist on wearing it again. I bought you new ones, remember? I will not have my wife wearing such ruins."

"Even that?" She spat and turned back at him. "You must control even that? Fine. If it makes you feel more secure in your power, I will not wear the God da—"

"Maria," he stopped her. "Get out."

She visibly bit her tongue and swallowed back the rebuke. Without another word she turned and hurried from the room. I started to follow her then paused and looked back at him, waiting for some signal to stay or leave.

"Sit," he sighed and gestured at the chair across from him. I slid into it silently. Slowly, I reached across the table and placed my hand over his. "You're a much quieter company," he breathed out. I could see some of the stress leave him in that breath. Let that witch take it with her.

"You know, you don't have to tolerate her," I said softly, the comforting words I had been saying for what felt like centuries now.

"But I must, don't you see?"

"No, I don't see," I replied quietly.

"If I let her go, I lose."

"No," I shook my head. There would be nothing lost in this house with her gone, expect the filth of piracy.

"It would be known that I lost."

"No, it wouldn't. Who would she tell, My Lord? Her word would mean nothing. And to pirates, even less. She is one of them, can't you tell?"

"She doesn't deserve my generosity," he muttered.

"I know, I know My Lord."

"Very well."

"What will you do?" I asked, surprised. Did he intend to dispose of her? I had never heard him say the words in this conversation. We always came to the same conclusion. She would never leave, she could never be released. She would never win.

"For now?" he paused, halfway from his seat. "She can wait a few moments I suppose." He sunk back into the plush cushion and frowned at his desk. Then he looked up with a smirk. "Can you spare a few?"

"She won't be missing me much," I grinned, then glanced back at the door.

Thank you for reading! :) Kind of a failure, I know.

If you enjoyed this story and wish to read the other stories
in this challenge you can find them on my profile and on Stutley Constable's fanfiction(dot)net/u/1963348/Stutley_Constable (replace the dot)