Diclaimer: I don't own PotC. If I did, Elizabeth would be dead.

TazaDread: Well, as you can see, I'm not very fond of E.S, however, I will not stoop so low as to bashing, so I'll just leave her out for the most part.

The heart of the ocean

Escape...

Lady Lilith Beckett was not what those of high society would call "wife material". Though, in all meanings of the word, she was beautiful, with dark brown hair that was always styled with the latest fads from London and sparkling blue eyes that betrayed her dangerous soul, she had lost her fathers favour through her love for travel and new sights and her devilish charm that sent all high class gentlemen scurrying for cover.

Lady Lilith Beckett, as a potential embarrassment to her family, had been trapped in her home for over a year as her father lied through his teeth, claiming she had been married off to a rich English gentleman and was currently residing in London, much to the disappointment of her many "friends" who were always coming around in the hope of tea parties and "proper" conversations.

Life had began to drag on for the poor young woman, whom many of the maids had begun to call 'The Ghost', but her thirst for adventure would never be quenched, and so she had begun lifting items from around the house.

At first it had been small things, more to see if she could than anything, her mothers jewellery, imported from far off countries such as India and China, had been the first to disappear into her room, closely followed by her fathers golden pocket watch.

Then she began to claim larger, more important items as her own, her fathers Japanese katana, stolen from its stand above the fireplace in her parents room, had been hidden in under her floorboards, along with a silk dressing gown belonging to her mother, a silver jug she had managed by some great feat to hid beneath her silken skirts during dinner with her mother and, to her immense pride, a pair of mahogany and silver pistols her father almost always kept in his possession.

And, of course, the heart shaped box she had never dared to open. Inside that box lay the power to control the ocean, or so she had overheard her father boast to his important friends. Inside that box lay the heart of Davy Jones.

She shivered at the thought, wondering yet again what had possessed her to steal it from her beneath her father's pillows as he slept, but some part of her refused to put it back.

Of course there had been a great uproar when her father discovered it missing, but no-one suspected the girl who spent her life locked away in her room, and so her father had set of in search of the great Captain Jack Sparrow, now more than three months ago. And those three months had passed with no word from her father, but Lilith did not feel worried, in fact, she felt rather happy. In truth she had stopped caring for Lord Cutler Beckett many years before he even banished her to her rooms.

There had been rumours that a strange ship had made birth in a port not half a mile from her house, nearer, even, if she took one of the many shortcuts that ran through the small village which she was forced to call home.

She had planned her escape since her twenty-second birthday, almost two full years before, and now she had accumulated enough wealth to pay for said escape.

Though her soft face may betray you to believe that Lilith was not ready for the many pirates who would come after her, the truth was that Lilith had been trained in the use of both sword and pistol, something her father had regretted for many years after paying for.

She made no attempts to disguise the fact that she was a woman, merely dressing herself in clothes that had belonged to her long gone, through fault of war, older brother, and making no attempt to tie up her long, golden brown hair.

In truth, any attempts to disguise herself would be fruitless, as her long lashes, soft blue eyes and delicate face would betray her within moments.

She filled a small bag with the few things she would need. A purse containing a grand total of a doubloon (equal to roughly 550 dollars today), an amount she felt more than enough for her trip, her fathers katana, a souvenir from a long ago visit to the mythological country, the twin pistols, and, with great reluctance, the heart shaped box. It seemed the same part of her that refused to put it back refused to leave it behind.

And with one, last, long glance at the room in which she had spent so many years before, heaving a deep sigh of loneliness she jumped from her window to the branch of the tree outside.