WARNING: This chapter may have sensitive or triggering content. A personal rule of mine is that I do not write anything that could be classified as triggering in an explicit manner, but I wanted to ensure that all of you wonderful readers aren't caught off-guard by what may be present in this update. I will be sure to clearly point out where that content begins and where it ends. I just wanted to warn you and let you determine whether you read that certain section of text or not.

The ship that Ophelia and Jack were brought onto was, according to Beckett, called the Endeavour. It was eerily clean and out of time to Ophelia; the thoughts were most likely spawned due to all the time she'd spent among pirates.

She'd rather be with those pirates than here.

Once Ophelia stepped foot onto the Endeavour, all the fear and pain she'd been suppressing began to bubble out of her. She would be risking so much on this cursed ship. Her knees began to give out from underneath her. Noting her failing state, Jack lunged forward and grabbed her to prevent her from collapsing.

"Come on, love. I'm here. I won't let you go—you aren't alone," the Captain whispered, in a futile attempt to cheer her up. And whilst Ophelia truly did appreciate both his words and his presence, the reality was that as of this moment, she was no longer free to love and be loved in return. She would soon officially take up her mantle of being nothing more than a prize.

Beckett too noticed Ophelia's state, but he apparently decided to interpret it as a sign of relief. With a somewhat complacent smile, he gently purred, "There, there, Miss Bennett. You'll be safe here. I will protect you."

Ophelia couldn't help but compare Beckett's inflection with these words to Will's—Will had said it softly, and with something Ophelia could only relate to love. Beckett said it casually, as if he didn't mean it at all.

It only confirmed the idea that she would not find love here.

Jack seemed to recognize this too, because he glared up at Beckett with a malice that Ophelia had never before seen from him. The pirate seemed to recognize the precarious position that he was in, and thus limited that malcontent when he exclaimed, "I think I'll stay with her and make sure she's alright."

"Nonsense, pirate," spat Beckett. "I won't have you performing the job that should be mine. She's my wife-to-be."

This statement only spurred Ophelia into deeper despair. Hearing it said aloud made the entire situation that much realer.

But she restrained her growing despondency for Will and her father. If she didn't say what Beckett wanted to hear, or act the way he desired her to, it was possible that he could use them against her.

Her only advantage at the moment was that Beckett had no idea that Davy Jones was her father.

With this thought in mind, Ophelia somehow managed to block out all of the unfeeling remarks that her fiancé shot her way. She managed to find some strength in comfort in the fact that she was able to keep her father safe for now.

Still, she knew she'd have to watch her step. Will was incredibly close by, and she wouldn't put it past Beckett to return to the Pearl to harm him.

"How about this, my dear? You go to your quarters and have some time to rest and relax, and I'll talk with Captain Sparrow in my room next door. Does that sound good to you?"

Ophelia blinked and realized that this was a question directed for her—relaying it again in her mind, she figured that this would do for now. And so she nodded and replied, "I think that should be fine."

Beckett smiled. Oddly enough, it seemed real. Ophelia breathed out.

She had been right.

"Excellent. I'll direct you to your cabin. Perhaps there you could have a bath or take a nap during my conversation with Mr. Sparrow," he remarked. His voice was more docile than Ophelia had ever heard it, even in Port Royal the first time she had ever met him.

"You won't hurt Jack, will you?" she implored, unable to leave her worry unspoken. She glanced at the Captain of the Pearl and noted that he seemed astonished by her worry, as if he never would've expected it. "He has saved my life before… my dear."

She thought it safe to add this last term of endearment.

Apparently she was right, because after the addition, Beckett smiled compliantly and answered, "I promise that our discussion will be strictly diplomatic."

Ophelia was more comforted with this than she thought she would be. She allowed herself to smile as well before glancing at Jack—with all her might, she tried to scream, Don't do anything stupid, to him through her eyes alone.

As it was, Jack was quite adept at reading expressions, and he seemed to pick right up with this one. With a short smirk, he jutted his chin forward, about as close to a confirmation as he could manage with the leader of the East India Trading Company standing in between them.

Then he turned and stepped inside the Captain's Quarters. Beckett followed him, leaving her alone.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Ophelia sighed and crossed her arms, feeling utterly vulnerable without someone she trusted nearby. Throughout all the time she'd spent at sea, the only time she'd been without Will or Jack was when she thought Will had died upon the Dutchman.

The difference was that this time, Ophelia would have to be on her own for much longer, and she'd have to discover how to play the game quickly.

With a sigh, she entered the room that Beckett had gestured to earlier. The first thing that caught her eye was the large array of dresses that were displayed upon a rack. At least half a dozen expensive-looking gowns were all aligned, some of them much more fanciful than the others.

Ophelia blinked and glanced down at her own clothes. They were ragged, for certain. She moved towards the rack and stopped upon noticing the porcelain bathtub that was in the corner of the cabin.

The shock of seeing such a heavy and costly item in a ship made her stop where she stood. Sitting beside it were a few buckets of steaming water. Was this supposed to be some sort of sign?

She figured that even if it was, it was probably justified. Ophelia couldn't remember the last time she'd had a clean spring to bathe in. And since Beckett and Jack were in the other room, it would be safe enough.

With a sigh, she cautiously glanced through the windows. No one was in sight.

Before she could lose her nerve, Ophelia gently removed her tatty clothes and stepped into the tub. She grabbed the buckets of hot water and started to pour them in with her. Admittedly, the hot water was a great antidote for her stress.

Soon after, she located a bar of soap. Suddenly determined to get clean, she began to scrub her skin ferociously, hoping that she could remove every last speck of dirt and mud and seawater from her being. The water began to turn murky around her, but Ophelia took it more as a sign of pride than disgust. Clearly, the bath was working.

It took a while, but at last, she felt like her cleanliness was satisfactory. With a deep exhale, she used what little clean water remained in the buckets to rinse herself off. She then grabbed the towel beside her and stepped out of the tub, drying herself with it.

Realizing the clothes that Jack had given her would simply make her mucky again, Ophelia wrapped the towel around her body, turned back towards the rack that housed all the dresses—and promptly gasped.

Standing in the doorway was Beckett, who had been casually observing her for who-knew-how-long. She locked eyes with him and immediately knew that he hadn't walked through the door at that moment.

Ophelia had no idea what to say. She felt her face slowly heat up with both anger and embarrassment, furious with herself for letting her guard down in a place like this. Clutching the towel even tighter across her body, she shuffled towards the closet, shaking as she perused the gowns.

Try as she might, she couldn't ignore his presence when he started walking further into the room—towards her. Ophelia felt her breathing grow shallow and her hands start to shake. She didn't want this. She didn't want this.

She wanted Will. She wanted Jack. She wanted anyone to be with her right now. Just so she wouldn't be alone.

******Warning******

"I stand by what I said on our first meeting," said Beckett's voice, closer than Ophelia wanted it.

Still shaking, she turned just enough to see him from her peripherals.

Realizing that she was expected to respond, she somehow managed to whisper past the lump in her throat, "What is that?"

Beckett chuckled, as if her hesitance amused him. "That you are a woman of great beauty." As he said this, he lightly placed a hand on her shoulder; Ophelia tensed with fear as she felt him begin to kiss the side of her neck, his hands trailing down the sides of her body, clutching tightly at her waist.

What was she supposed to do? Did she wait and pray that it would be over soon? Did she play along for the sake of the game? Or did she stop him here and now, before it would be too late?

She thought of what was at stake. At worst, Will's life… versus her own body.

It was one thing to promise to marry him. That had been consensual. But this… this would be something else entirely. Ophelia wasn't ready for this—not yet. She had barely made peace with the fact that she was engaged to this man. If this continued, she wouldn't be able to deal with the thought that Beckett made love to her before she was ready, before they were married.

She didn't want this. She didn't.

"No."

Ophelia startled herself by how loud the word had escaped her mouth. Apparently, so was Beckett, because he stopped and gazed at her with confusion. His expression morphed, however, when she rapidly began shaking her head and repeated, "No. I don't—I'm not…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, overcome with fear. She was certain she would be ignored, used, and then forced to marry this man.

But she didn't feel any anger from her fiancé. He let go of her—and didn't touch her again. In fact, all he said was, "I am sorry. The last thing I would want to do, Miss Bennett, is frighten you."

Ophelia opened her eyes again, shocked. The Lord of the EITC was looking at her with what appeared to be concern… noting her rather stricken look, he remarked, "I only entered to grab a scroll. I shall leave you to be dressed. Would you join Captain Sparrow and I in the room next door when you are ready?"

Beyond relieved, Ophelia could hardly keep back the smile. At least soon, she would be with Jack. Not alone. She nodded quickly in affirmation.

Beckett smiled as well and turned towards the desk on the opposite side of the room. And then, true to his word, he grabbed a long piece of parchment from it, nodded towards her one more time, and left.

******Over******

Alone in the room once more, Ophelia sunk to her knees, still clutching her towel. She still felt herself shaking, thanking whatever gods that were watching over her.

Things could have gone much, much worse.

She clasped a hand over her mouth, hardly able to stop the tears from forming in her eyes. She didn't know whether to continue being terrified or relieved or both. If she truly was forced to marry Beckett, the day would come when she would no longer be able to refuse him. If she wasn't, she had no idea how it would happen or if she'd be ready for it.

The thoughts wouldn't stop roaming through her head now. Her fear prevented her from rising. Before long, she lost track of the time she'd spent kneeling upon the floor. She wasn't quite ready to enter the room with Beckett again, but she knew that soon she would have to be.

Beckett had proven that he wouldn't harm her, or take any sort of advantage of her. That was a small comfort, and it helped to steel her resolve so she could get up, get dressed, and begin learning her way around the Endeavour.

Just as she was about to get up, however, a loud BOOM! crackled through the air and a large hole appeared in the wall. Ophelia shrieked and leapt to her feet, tiptoeing towards the hole that had appeared.

It was the size of a cannonball.

"Lassie!"

The door burst open, and in sprinted Jack. Ophelia gasped sharply and tightened her grip on her towel, painfully aware that she hadn't yet gotten dressed.

Jack, however, seemed unaffected. "That's our signal, get your fancy get-up on and let's move!"

"W-well, turn around, then!" she commanded.

Jack groaned in remonstration, but the sound was cut off by another huge BOOM! Almost annoyed, he shouted, "We're being shot at by the cannons of my Pearl, and your biggest concern is that I don't look at you getting dressed?!"

"Pretty much!" she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Now turn around!"

Jack groaned again but did as he was told. Once he had, Ophelia grabbed a set of undergarments and the first dress she laid eyes on—a lovely short-sleeved powder blue number—and slipped them on. Once she was dressed, she looked over her shoulder and said, "Alright, you're safe to turn around now."

Jack did so, but afterwards, didn't move. He simply looked at her.

This went on for long enough that Ophelia started to feel uncomfortable. Shuffling somewhat, she asked a bit defensively, "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," he answered. The Captain darted forward and seized Ophelia's hand before yanking her towards the door, ignoring her yelp and exclaiming, "Now's our chance to get off this blasted ship!"

Ophelia gaped. "But—!"

"No time for arguments! For once, Turner's and my interests align—I'm keeping you safe!" exclaimed Jack, sauntering out of the hold of the Endeavour without so much as a flinch as another BOOM announced its presence. Ophelia, meanwhile, was pressed next to Jack thanks to his arm around her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't keep your promises, Jack," she bantered, raising an eyebrow.

The Captain of the Pearl snuck a look at her and chuckled. "Usually, I don't. But when I deem the matter severe enough—I keep me word."

Ophelia laughed softly, but before she could say anything else, they had reached the deck of the Endeavour. For some reason, the East India Trading Company members were simply letting them pass. This confused Ophelia, but she figured not to question it until she and Jack were safe.

Without any explanation, Jack shooed her up the stairs to the highest point of the deck. A cannon was sitting there, loaded and waiting to be fired. Ophelia observed, bemused, as the Captain of the Pearl threw a rope above a pole upon the mast and tied the other end around the cannonball. He then started to light a torch, as if preparing to fire the cannon.

That was when Beckett appeared upon the deck. Ophelia swallowed, unsure of whether he was going to stop them or not. The leader of the Company, however, merely gazed at Jack with wide eyes and exclaimed, "You're mad!"

"Thank goodness for that because if I weren't, this would probably never work," declared Jack with a smirk. He held out a hand to Ophelia and added, "Your carriage, my lady."

"No. You're not taking her with you," growled Beckett.

"On the contrary!" replied Jack. "I'm not leaving without her!"

Ophelia blinked, wondering exactly how this would be any sort of bargaining chip. She looked back at Beckett, whose face was turning somewhat red with either remonstration, anger, or both. After a brief moment of contemplation, Beckett spat, "Fine. She'll go back. But keep her safe—I expect her to return once our deal is complete."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he said nothing. Instead, he looked back to Ophelia and grinned.

"Do you trust me, lassie?" he queried.

This brought her back to the first time he'd asked her that question—when they were escaping from the cannibals together, and he had thrown her over the cliff, this was exactly what he'd asked. Back then, she had said no, she didn't trust him.

But things had changed, and this time was different.

"Yes," she answered, and she took his extended hand.

Jack's grin grew larger, and he seized Ophelia around the waist. She gasped at the sudden gesture and watched, fascinatedly horrified, as he took his torch and moved it to the fuse.

Beckett dived to the side, and Ophelia felt a painful tug as she and Jack were yanked up into the air. She heard both the Captain and herself screaming as they were weightless, diving towards the riggings of the Pearl. The wind whipping her face made it difficult to breathe for those brief three seconds, and then Ophelia felt herself crash into the sails of the Pearl, with Jack still holding onto her tight. Realizing that they were no longer airborne, and that they were back on the Pearl, she began to laugh.

Jack chuckled, but held a finger to her lips. Grinning, she whispered, "What?"

"Let's move over there," Jack responded, pointing to the helm of the ship.

Silently they moved, trying not to laugh as the crew of the Pearl searched for them in the water. Once they were in position, Jack coughed, gaining the attention of the crew. Ophelia laughed aloud at their many expressions—Barbossa looked furious, Pintel and Ragetti dumbfounded, Gibbs annoyed, and Will relieved.

"And that was without a single drop of rum!" boasted Jack, squeezing Ophelia tight.

She laughed again and punched Jack in the arm. In response, the Captain kissed her temple—but Ophelia hardly registered the gesture as she removed herself from his grasp, her legs somewhat wobbly from the adrenaline. With help from the railings and from Jack, she descended onto the deck and walked towards Will, who was grinning as he saw her come close.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, holding out a hand to steady her. "You are, aren't you?"

Before she could say anything in return, however, Jack stepped in front of her and brutally pushed aside Will's extended hand. His jesting expression had vanished completely, and he now looked ready to kill. "Send this pestilent, traitorous, cowhearted, yeasty codpiece to the brig."

Ophelia blinked and stared at Will, whose expression had altered from deeply caring to murderous in the three seconds it took Jack to relay his string of insults. Pintel and Ragetti placed meaty hands on Will's shoulders, and the severity of this sentence smacked into her like a brick.

"Jack—Jack, surely we don't need such drastic measures," she implored, grabbing his arm and whirling him around to face her. She felt her chest concave. She'd only just returned to the Pearl… she didn't have the energy to mediate Jack's and Will's spats again.

The Captain scoffed and replied, though not unkindly, "He tried to steal my ship, lassie. This is my ship, and woe be to any codpiece who attempts to take it from me."

"I daresay we went through enough trouble saving you to warrant a pardon," she continued to protest.

"He explicitly said he partook on this journey for himself! You're the only one here who I could forgive for a transgression such as this."

"And why is that?" Ophelia demanded, crossing her arms. She sized up Jack and noticed that he wasn't as composed as he usually was. Normally he was calm, collected, cool. Now, he looked agitated. "What have I done that Will hasn't?"

"Cared, Ophelia!"

These two words were exclaimed as a shout, one that made Ophelia and many others on deck jolt. For that brief moment in time, she could see exactly how Jack was feeling—vulnerable, betrayed, and worried.

With another sigh, Jack stared into her eyes and repeated, "You cared."

Ophelia's mouth dropped open a little, and she stared at the Captain. It was all she could bring herself to do. For some reason, she couldn't argue anymore. She merely looked at Will, wanting to apologize for failing to spare him from the brig, but he just shook his head and murmured, "It's alright, Ophie. I'll be fine. I'm just glad that… that you're back."

She swallowed and nodded, looking at the floor. Will was then marched away, escorted by Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti. Once he was gone, Ophelia turned to Jack, but the Captain was already swaggering back towards the helm of the ship, ready to resume its command as if he were as in control as he always was.

She knew he wasn't.

Hello again, readers! Three weeks this time, eh? That's not terrible, right? Anyway, I hope you all have been having fantastic Holiday Seasons filled with healing and joy, and I will continue to wish the very best for you and your families. I also hope that my above warning was okay, I don't typically write that sort of content but I felt like for the purpose of the setting (and for what I have planned in future chapters), it was a risk I needed to take. As always, however, feel free to leave your thoughts in that there review box just below this author's note, and continue to have a Happy Holiday season!

Until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade