AN./ I am so pumped to start working on this again! Please, continue your support, and I wish to send a big THANK YOU out to all of those who reviewed. You really made my day, you guys! I have missed hearing from you all.

Please be aware that my major plot twist is unveiled totally in this chapter! Be prepared! (*and please don't hit me, lol!*) Also, please... if you have any questions or story suggestions along with feedback, please, (including you silent lurkers!) ;) R&R! Much thanks!

Warnings: Contains mentions of suggestive content.

God bless,

~ Silvertongued Dreams

Chapter Thirty-Four: This Changes Everything

Norrington stood there for some moments in unbelief, his gaze still fixed intently in the distance, where my carriage had faded out of sight. As the carriage rolled off, and the sound of the crunching, crackling cobblestone walkway had all but died away in his ears, James noticed something. A nagging in his chest that he had never felt before. A desperate, unyielding, unrelenting pain that would not waver.

For once in his life, he had failed. And he could never forgive himself for it.

What had he been thinking?! Countless times, I had left the door open for him to speak his heart: to his eyes, more than welcome to his subtle advances—but the words had never come. Even after that one kiss we'd shared—that gentle touch that had simmered into something far more deep—he'd failed to have the courage to tell me what he felt. Failed. James scoffed inwardly. For all the strength and determination he had to see each battle through, he could not even muster an ounce of that strength when he had needed it most. Unbelievable.

Then again, this was an entirely different sort of affair.

Norrington tried desperately to catch his breath, but his short, panicked breaths made such a task hard to accomplish. He was stranded on an island of trouble: marooned, as it were, on an island of romantic complexities, and it was all his own doing.

And the truth of that would forever torture him.

— "Ah, Captain Norrington!" came the shrill voice of Lieutenant Gillette, all of a sudden. Startled by the interruption of his musings, Norrington turned sharply on his heel, only to see his dear friend running: his wig slightly disheveled and askew. As he ran, Gillette tried to adjust it mid-run: partly flattening the top of his tricorne hat.

Captain Norrington could not help but smirk.

"Greetings, Lieutenant Gillette," Norrington returned: forcing himself to remove any emotion from his face. "What brings you here?"

"Perhaps that question is better asked of me, dear James," came the voice of Elanor Westfall, who chuckled gaily: Lieutenant Groves right behind her. "You see, per my request—" (here, Gillette shot her a reproachful, corrective look)— "We actually came to pay a call to Miss Perrin. Indeed, the three of us had just been discussing our friend when we happened to encounter the doctor in town, and he informed us of her rather unexpected awakening!" she continued, her eyes beaming. "Pray, tell me, where is she, that we might visit with her?"

At the mention of my name, James stiffened, and he folded his hands behind his back: his default pose when he knew it was best to remain silent. "Errm, actually," he began, turning away from them to stare off into the distance: "I am afraid that you just missed her. She… decided to return home," he finished in an almost deadening whisper: his heart sinking even deeper with his words.

Even with his back turned to them, Elanor could sense that something was terribly wrong, and sidled up to the good captain's side: winding her arm in his. "James… what is wrong?" she whispered so only she could hear: her head nestled into his shoulder comfortingly. "You do not seem yourself."

"I suppose it was foolish to hope that I could have her to myself forever," he scoffed, looking slightly downward.

Elanor paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Have you told her how you feel?" she asked: her tone low and serious, as she looked up from Norrington's shoulder, to meet his gaze.

James turned to her: his looking bearing all his sorrow and regret. She saw nothing but raw honesty in his eyes.

"You know, it is not too late," Elanor began with an encouraging smile that sent Norrington's heart aflutter with excitement.

"… James… love is a curious beast. Too often, many truly beautiful things go unsaid that have the power to change lives for the better… all because of the same dilemma that faces you. But, how can you know what might happen if you never try?" Elanor put forth: knowing full well how I felt. "Do not be deceived by how things appear, or daunted by what you fear might be… for I have it on good authority that our Ariana is hiding behind the same veil of propriety as yourself, and is likely feeling just as miserable you are that this very moment." She paused, a smile spreading across her face. "Go on. Go after her."

Norrington smiled, down at his old friend, hope stirring within him anew.

—*—

I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my neck. I could feel his breath far too close for comfort against my neck. Lord Cutler Beckett sat beside me, his fingers gently tugging strands of my hair behind my ear. I still couldn't believe my father would allow a man to touch me in such a manner—especially without consent, but, in retrospect, I suppose that his weak hands were tied. Yet, such knowledge did not stop my quavering. If it had been any other man, such an act of intimacy would have been touching. But these hands knew nothing of love. They only knew the want of power, and of lust.

I listened to my father in complete disbelief as he spelled out the details of Beckett's proposed bargain, and all that we had at stake: my father's credibility as a businessman, the social status and reputation of our family, and how unappealing a marriage prospect my sisters and I would make, should the truth of my father's dealings with the East India Trading company be let out. Every so often during the course of the conversation, Lord Beckett would interject his own thoughts and reassurances: making sure to keep me calm as I heard them out.

Yet, nothing either of them did or said could change the blank look on my face: the look of suppressed shock, anger, and betrayal at such insinuations. Marry Lord Beckett?! The words hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. Why did my father say nothing when he saw how desperate I was for consolation? Even though Lord Beckett was an immensely powerful man, I wished, right then, more than anything, that my father would find the strength to intervene, and protect me, and hold me, as was his duty.

Unfortunately for me, though, such was not to be the case. At last, however, I found the courage to speak for myself.

"But, Father… what about Alexander? Surely, you have not forgotten my promise to him!" I exclaimed. Poor Alexander. I had never loved him in the manner he deserved, yet now, he was my only hope of escaping a truly grueling fate. He does not deserve me. How awful, and how strange! To think I could be capable of using the love of my Alexander Forbes only as a crutch: pulling it out whenever I saw fit: particularly in a situation such as this. For two months, I'd lived my life with scarcely a thought of my beau… jaunting about the Caribbean with my new acquaintances as if I were a young maid in London's popular circles, just come out into society. Yet, now, it was if he had never left my thoughts. Stupid Ariana. How wretched of you!

As my thoughts traveled back in time, I blushed with shame at how I'd acted. How I'd thought… and who I had thought so lovingly about. A man who was not Alexander: the wonderful person who had promised to remain faithful to me even though years and leagues separated us, until we could meet again.

"—Pray, tell me, who is this… Alexander?" came the voice of Lord Beckett, breaking me from my solemn reverie. His tone was somewhat sneering and rather… superior, as he shiftily reached for a shortbread cookie from the small silver platter on the tea tray situated on my father's desk. "Is he going to be a problem?"

That was it. I had had enough.

"Pray, Lord Beckett, do not presume to think that I have, somehow, agreed to your proposition!" I nearly shouted: shooting from my chair. I think I startled him. Turning sharply towards the lord, I towered over his seated form when I stood at my full height. "Indeed, if anything, you have nauseated me with your insipid offer. I could never care for you in the way you seem to desire, and to pretend otherwise would be a sin of egregious proportions. I am not a toy, Lord Beckett. I would have you know that I am a strong, capable young woman who knows her own mind." I paused for effect. Unbeknownst to me, the lightning scar on my forehead had begun to flash faintly. "The young man whom I have just mentioned is the person I have promised to marry, and I do not renege or my promises. Make of that what you will."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Father: his gold-rimmed monocle falling off the brim of his nose. He was trembling with fear at how his enemy would react, but, at the same time, I could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was immensely proud that I had stood up for myself.

Meanwhile, I stared determinedly into Cutler Beckett's eyes: neither one of us relenting. And then, he laughed. He looked rather pleased with himself, and I had no idea why. And that frightened me.

I furrowed my brow in confusion as Lord Beckett rose from his chair.

"Ah, dear Ariana, how beauteous you are when roused," he chortled, circling me: completely unmoved. I saw his eye drift towards my forehead briefly, then dart back down to my hand as he seized it with unexpected fervor. He spun me towards him: our bodies close. "My pet," he spoke faintly: "do not think me unaware of your capabilities. They are one of the many qualities that attract me to you."

I shivered slightly.

"Lord knows that I may well be, as one comrade of mine put it 'as dull as a lamppost'*," Beckett began, moving past me, now: "but I am incredibly rich, and I have a habit of getting what I want." He shot a glare at my father. "As things stand, now, your family stands to lose much, should the information I hold in my posession be unleashed to the public." He then turned to me, once more. "And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?" His tone was almost sickly sweet, and I turned away from his penetrating gaze.

I said nothing.

"Write to this man, Forbes. Break off your engagement. Surely, you see that this is what is meant to be?" Beckett began coaxingly, and, after a pause, he sidled up to me once more. When I did not respond to his words, he leaned forward, whispering sensually into my ear. "I had supposed that the proposition of marriage would be far more palpable to you than what I'd initially planned." His eyes lit up as if on fire. "Oh, yes, my darling. A delicious scandal. I want you Ariana, and I shall have you. It is merely your choice. Marry me, and live a life of luxury… or you can live the rest of your life skulking around in the dark, clawing at the remnants of your family's honour in an attempt to escape from a scandalous liaison?"

My breaths were shallow as I measured my options. In all my life, I had never once wished to be any different than how I was. But, at that moment, I wished I did not care so much for those around me: that I could act according to what would please and serve me: not necessarily those around me. But, moments later, it was still me, and it was clear what had to be done, despite what I wanted.

"Lord Beckett… if I agree to this, do you promise that you will expunge my father of any remaining debt, and keep this business between us alone?" I pleaded with determination.

"You have my word."

"Then…" I gulped hard, "L—Lord Beckett, I would be honored… to become your wife."

Father looked horrified, but, knowing better than to say anything about a matter that was entirely of his hands, took to massaging his sore temples.

Beckett smiled triumphantly, taking my hand in his and kissing it. "I thought as much."

Oooh! You didn't expect that, did you?! (*Please, don't hit me!*) Does Lord Beckett know about Ariana's powers? Will he keep true to his word? And what will James say once he finds out what has happened?! Can their love endure this trial? Things are about to get verrry complicated, and I hope you enjoy it! Please, R&R, and comment with your theories as to what will happen next! Thank you, guys!

* Also, did anyone catch that "dull as a lamppost" reference? It was a slight nod to Chapter 8, where Captain Norrington himself accuses Beckett of being such. Haha. :)