Author's Note: Okay, okay, at long last, here's your update! :) I originally wrote this on my old laptop before it crashed and I'd got it really good. I tried to get this version somewhat similar but... well, I did better before, let's just say. Ah well, enjoy, all the same! :)

Here, Arabella is 18, Fitz perhaps 19 and Tumen and Jean around 16 – story starts approximately 2 years after the Jack Sparrow series ended. Apologies if I got their ages wrong, I'm just guessing, really. Tumen and Jean won't be appearing in this part, but in the next part, they shall! :D Mwhahaha!

12th September, 1729

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Chapter I
The Beginning
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Dark, heavy clouds clotted across the once-blue sky of North Carolina. She turned her glinting brown orbs to the atmosphere above, fiddling with the stems, petals and leaves of the bouquet resting aimlessly in her delicate grasp. She sighed, a dark, sorrowful wisp of breath, directing her curious glance back to her elegantly dressed feet.

She scowled, furiously – dejectedly – tearing off her fancy footwear and tugging irately at her lacy, expensive gown, pained tears flowing down the crevices of her porcelain cheeks. Again, she was left standing, cold and alone, atop of the old, beautiful hill, decorated gracefully with white bells and banners, candlesticks and flowered china dishes.

Easily, it would have made a beautiful wedding. Had anyone showed up, that is.

Arabella Smith – destined to become Arabella Turner to this day – tore the veil from her softly styled auburn locks, allowing them to cascade messily to their original, tousled state. This made it the third time – third time – she had been stood up; for her own wedding! She released a vicious snarl, assembled furiously in the back of her throat as she stormed without direction down the hill, hair thrashing around wildly in the angered breeze.

Swiping the warm, salty tears from her eyes, her infuriated stride broke into a run – the fastest she could make her feet move without tripping over. A storm was brewing over her head, egging her on with the rumble of thunder, the clap of lightening.

Arabella was unsure of where she was heading. Her home, she decided, would be a good start. Not to stay, of course, but to pack – she was leaving. This was it. Bill Turner would not hurt her like this any longer.

As she flung open the door, not even the angered bark of the neighbour's dog preventing her in her tracks; Arabella grabbed armfuls of her possessions – an overflow of clutter in her grasp – and collapsed them into the closest sack she could find. Ripping through her wardrobe, she did not pack her ratted everyday gowns, but her fiancé's long shirts and baggy trousers. Biting her lip down hard enough to draw blood, she flung the heavy bag over her shoulder and stormed back out into the darkened North Carolina.

"Arabella!" She heard her name in an all-too familiar tone which stung her heart. "Arabella, Arabella!" Her husband to be, Bill Turner approached in a run as she could hear by the sound of his heavy footsteps. Not knowing whether to hide or face him, Arabella froze to the spot, cloak wrapped tight over her shoulders.

And then he came. Bill stood in smart garments before her in their crowded little bedroom, his face and clothes stained with raindrops.

"I'm so sorry, Arabella," he whispered, his voice lowered in to a sensitive whisper. But did he really care? Did he really give a damn concern about it? Three times – the number had lodged itself into Arabella's mind, refusing to move – he had left her at the altar. If he truly cared, she realized, why did he keep breaking her heart?

Why did she keep forgiving him?

"No, yer not, Bill," she choked out, her throat twisted and thick with tears. "I know yer not. I was foolish to think we would spend the rest of our lives together--" she scoffed, "if ye really cared, then why do ye keep leaving me there – humiliated – every time our wedding day comes around?"

He looked to his feet, brown eyes absorbed with sorrow. "Y-you know why, Arabella," he stammered.

"Oh, yes, I do know why," retorted his fiancée in sudden anger. She placed her hands temperamentally on her hips, her expression turning from sorrowful to as fiery as her red curls. "And if ye told me ye already had a son and an intent lassie already waiting for ye, I would've left long ago instead of getting my hopes up of us actually being able to have a future together!"

A single tear dropped from Bill's eye and rolled down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Arabella calmed herself, not even resisting the urge to apologize. "But I can't stay here, Billy." Reaching out, her hand brushed his cheek in a last sign of affection. "Ye should... ye should be with yer son..."

There was nothing more she could say; nothing more she felt for the man before her. Leaving her home on North Carolina that night, although the pain tore her heart straight in two, Arabella couldn't help but smile; she was finally free.

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"Wow..."

Staring into the glistening blade turning in his hand, Fitzwilliam P. Dalton the III smiled; the very title – Admiral – brought a sparkle to his eyes. Tearing his attention away and meeting the eyes of his father, he stammered the words;

"Are you sure about this, father?"

The Earl of Dalton grinned a cheek-stretching smile, placing his hand on his son's shoulder with pride. "You've done the Navy proud over these past few years, Fitzwilliam. Especially since the run ins with that pirate--" Fitzwilliam couldn't help but flinch at the venom thickened around his father's accentuate on this word, "and his rotten son, Sparrow. This title is destined for you."

The young man looked back to his sword with a polite nod. "Well, I assure you, father," he said, sheathing his new weapon and glancing out to the horizon with superiority, "I will not let you down..."

Author's Note: Just so you know, the dates shown at the top are according to the Pirates Timeline I took a long two hours constructing! :) It's actually pretty accurate and fits everything in CORRECTLY (the capitals are for YOU, Rob Kidd!) making Jack the lovely age of 35/36 in the movies, which is what he's meant to be, I think. And what's even better so, by my reckonings, there's NO WAY Arabella could be Will's mother! :D

Anyways, I'm glad I finally updated this poor little story. I really do love it/have big ideas for it despite my neglect towards it...

Ah, well at least I'm here now, and I'll be updating this a lot more often! :)

Let me know what you think; I'm dying for reviews and for people to laugh at stupid Billy's misfortune with me! :D Okay, I suppose I feel the tiniest bit sorry for him but he got what was coming to him for stealing Bell from Jack! :D

AND A BIG THANKIES TO MY FELLOW WRITER AND MANAGER, NINETEENNINTYTWO! :D I OWE YE ONE! :)

Review?