A/N: Here we are... the lovely heroine of the story. I suppose there's a bit of suspense in this chapter. I know, it might not be too thrilling. They're only introduction chapters; I'll get to the excitement in later ones. Perhaps I'll start with the next one, yes? Enjoy!

"Ah, thank you Maria. It's beautiful." Elizabeth smiled at her maid, nodding slightly at her. "That'll do."

Maria, only but a seventeen-year-old girl, smiled sweetly at her Madam, curtsied, and left the room. Elizabeth admired the lovely flower piece that had finally been completed in her dining room. She fingered the soft petals, smiling to herself and sighing tiredly.

It was amazing how much this place felt like her real home. It was nice, and she had come to be used to it in the past nine years – the high number out of the given ten sent chills down her spine at the thought. Still, she missed Port Royal and all its memories.

She frowned, being reminded of her family, her first fiancé, and most painfully, her childhood friend, rescuer (who gave faithful service for years), and husband.

But she had life. Granted, most of her life – that of which she was so familiar with – was gone, but it was life. She held great responsibility as King of the Brethren Court (it had it's advantages; she wasn't complaining about her grand, new home). She remained as a captain still, obviously. Jinhai, her second-in-command, usually took care of business for her. But when answering her pirate duties was inevitable, she was sure to bring Will along with her. He was a pirate by blood, and he should be raised as such (though Elizabeth made sure it was civilized… as civilized as pirate life could be).

Elizabeth cherished her son more than her own life, and wondered if this kind of love was as powerful as the love she had been given that night nearly a decade ago when James had sacrificed himself to ensure her safety. It made her all the more grateful for his surrender, and it made her miss him even more. She wished she could take back everything she had accused him of, everything she had told him that night. She wished she had accepted his request and taken his quarters; maybe he would still be here.

She lowered her hand from the blossom she'd been holding in her fingers, walking past the small table. She moved slowly, grazing her fingertips along the dark, polished wood. Her head jerked up when none other than her little boy threw the front doors open. By instinct, she ignored the fact she was wearing one of her more elegant dresses and kneeled down before her son as he ran to her. Instead of throwing himself in her arms like he usually did – the boy was as daring and bold as his father, and on frequent occasion would come home with bruised arms and scratched knees – Will excitedly jumped around in front of his mother.

"Mother, come look! Someone was found near the main dock this morning! They're saying he's dying!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly. She straightened herself, picking up the skirt of her dress and rushing out the doors that remained open.

She regretted making the mistake of wearing a dress today, for the main dock was well near a mile away from her home. But nothing more washed up on the edge of Mattingham than an old fishing net or remains of an abandoned rowboat.

William was behind her, but she sprinted as quickly as she could. Luckily, days of playing outside had built the young child's stamina, and he kept up with her surprisingly well. Either that or he was just as anxious to see what was happening as she was.

Finally reaching her destination, Elizabeth slowed a bit to catch her breath. She saw a fairly large group of people gathered around the end of the dock, watching several officers doing something before them.

Elizabeth regained her posture and began making her way through the crowd. Over the past near decade, those of Mattingham had come to respect Elizabeth, though Elizabeth could not help but feel sometimes that it was out of fear. She was, after all, an acquaintance of over two hundred of the most fearsome pirates that could be found around the Caribbean. So it was not new to her when the townspeople made way to clear a path for Elizabeth.

After making it past the crowd, Elizabeth sighed in frustration when she saw she would have to do the same with the guards. Instead of shoving past, though, she kept her together appearance and merely stood behind the smaller crowd. She turned her head slightly to look at William, and she nodded with a knowing smile. He grinned up at her and ran forward towards the uniformed men. He snatched a handful of one of their jackets and tugged as hard as a nine-year-old boy could. The man turned, quite irritated, but his mood changed quickly and forcedly when he realized who exactly what trying to get his attention.

"Mrs. Turner, my apologies," he muttered awkwardly. Turning to the side, he invited her to come forth. Elizabeth did so, but before reaching them completely, she placed a hand on her son's head, ruffling his hair gently. In other words: "Well done, once again."

Elizabeth passed the men that surrounded the town's uninvited guest, and once she made it there, she angled herself so she could see his face. She nearly fainted when she did.

Cutler Beckett was lying unconscious on the shore of the very town she lived in. Elizabeth suddenly found it hard to breathe, and it had nothing to do with the damned corset she wore – though she had made positively sure it was not as tight as the last one she wore was. Placing a hand over her chest, she let out short, forced breaths. The guard nearest to her stepped to her side.

"Madam, are you ill?" She saw him motion to two guards who directly stepped forward. He turned to them. "Escort Mrs. Turner to her home immediately."

The men went to do just that, and she raised a hand to stop them.

"I'll be fine, gentlemen." She looked up and saw that they weren't convinced. She offered a reassuring smile. "Really."

The first guard hesitated, then nodded slightly to the two others, who backed away quickly. Elizabeth lowered her gaze to the face of the man she had come to loathe so much all those years ago. He was strangely different now, and Elizabeth wasn't sure whether this frightened her or relaxed her.

The guard, as if waiting for orders, patiently watched Elizabeth. Finally, she took in one short breath, as if deciding something. The guard looked as if he was going to say something, but Elizabeth got to it first.

"He'll stay with me until he regains consciousness." She eyed the guard. "I'll trust you can provide assistance in getting him to my home, along with an attendant specifically for him."

The guard stared at her nervously for a moment, then nodded briefly, signaling to his fellow guards to help with the unconscious man. Elizabeth watched them cautiously, going over the consequences of what she had just done.

She had insisted that Beckett's room be the room closest to hers; it was farthest from Will's, for one, and if he were to wake up she wanted to be able to keep an eye on him. Both eyes, actually. It had been four days since Beckett had washed up out of no where, and Elizabeth was growing impatient.

She watched him now; her attendant had gone home for the evening, but she remained in the room, studying him. She wondered curiously where he had been for the past nine years, and how exactly he had made his way to Mattingham. The sight of his burns and scars made her shiver. She would have felt sorry for him, but living so many years after handing her own self to piracy and its ways, she'd lost most of her sympathetic feeling towards those whom she knew did not deserve it from her. She distinctly remembered trying to save Jack's life, knowing he was a pirate and disregarding her father and James' wish to kill him.

The more she stared at what seemed to be a forever-sleeping face, the more complacent she felt towards him; the tables seemed to have turned in her favor. She wondered exactly how much strength the man held still, and wondered if he would be in his right mind to put that strength to use once he woke up.

Elizabeth waited several minutes, eventually deciding her bed was becoming very inviting. She walked down the bedroom hall and found that Will was already asleep. She leaned against the doorway, one hand flat on the wall, and watched her beautiful son sleep ever so peacefully.

She'd always dreamed of having a little girl; dressing her up as a child, talking to her mother-to-daughter in her youthful adult days, and crying at her wedding. But she found that Will brought her so much joy that it didn't matter the gender. He was a reminder of what she had left. He reminded her that there was hope, and she was forever grateful for that.

Elizabeth made her way into the dark room and stopped at the side of the bed. She would pray at her son's bed tonight; she felt that his dreams and her hope would give them all the power they needed to go on in their confusing and enthralling lives.

"Y-you…"

Elizabeth's eyes shot open from her light prayer. She knew that voice, and what frightened her was that she never thought she would hear it again. She knew that was ridiculous; in due course, he would have finally awakened.