AN:/ Readers and friends… oh my goodness. I can't believe that it's been 2 years since I last updated. So much has happened. I've moved jobs, earned my coveted BA in English, and my love life has been pretty insane as well. So, as you can see, I've been quite busy! But, I'm back now, and that's what matters. As for my neglect of MOIAL and my other fanfics, I most heartily apologize. MOIAL's never once left its sacred place in my heart. I treasure it, and will continue to post regularly until it's complete and the sequel can be launched. Yes, you read that correctly… no matter what I said previously, the sequels that I'd initially planned WILL be posted after I am done with MOIAL. So please keep an eye out for that. I will post an AN on the final end of this story once it's been posted (which'll be a little while yet). As a footnote, I do wish to emphasize that any prior claims that PotC had been displaced in favor of other fandoms were fleeting fancies (even though I love and am still active in several of these fandoms), and that my love for PotC and our beloved commodore is enduring. No matter how far I've strayed, I've always returned to my true fandom love. In addition to this, I've permanently reverted back to my old penname Silvertongued Dreams: in retrospect, I have no idea why I changed it! This one fits my personality and giftings perfectly.

This past week, I re-read MOIAL so I could approach the new chapters with fresh eyes, so it is my hope that chapter flow will remain steady. I would encourage you to read the last few chapters again if you need a refresher! Also, if you don't currently follow this story, please subscribe so you can be ensured to get the latest updates right when they are released!

~ Silvertongued Dreams


Chapter Forty-Three: Sleepless Dreams

Though I knew that to run any faster would be physically impossible, the deep-seated hopelessness I felt in the pit of my stomach made time seem to stand still. Grains of sand flung up into the air, stinging my eyes as I tumbled desperately down the strand of beach that led to Lordthorne Hall.

I whimpered as I fell, tripping over my tediously long underskirts for the hundredth time, finally managing a sizable tear—but I didn't care. I didn't care what others might think of me. What were matters of appearances and decorum when lives could be on the line? Superficiality was a luxury I could no longer afford. The time had finally come to emerge as an independent young woman with my own wishes and desires, and to manifest the courage and bravery that had been so desperately wrestle its way to the surface.

Things seem so much slower when you are in a hurry, and such was the case as I trudged through the sand and sparse patches of brush-weed: clambering upward with some difficulty before hauling my disheveled body over the craggy edge of the cliff marking the end of Norrington's vast estate.

I let out a little cry of pain as I rolled onto my side, clutching my calf: I had cut my leg and it was bleeding through what was left of what used to be my stocking, but that was of no matter compared to the task ahead.

I knew the risks. I knew that James might not wish to speak with me—let alone look at me. My heart twinged as I recalled the look on his face when I had broken both his heart and my own. What had I been thinking?! I had been blindly following my father's wishes, as I had always done. And now, oh, how foolish it all seemed. Although Lord Beckett was as contemptible as the pirate scum he sought to eradicate, his words had made me realize a truth that, deep down, I guess I'd always known. That my life was a lie. That nothing I'd ever been told had happened to me as a child seemed to add up with the fragments of memories that flashed before me at random points of my life.

A scattered dream that was like a far-off memory… or, a memory that seemed like a scattered dream? In either case, discerning what was real from what was not was becoming increasingly more difficult by the day.

But, one thing I knew for certain.

The love that I had for Captain James Norrington was fast, and true.

I struggled to pick myself up, ignoring the pain I felt to the best of my ability as I urged myself to run on. Almost there…! I strained as the door came into view: the distance closing with each step I took… until, at last, upon clambering up the manor stairs with feeble, shaky steps, I knocked. I only hope I'm not too late.

The seconds that separated me from the man I loved seemed like hours, until, at last, a bumbling April Seax approached and answered the door. She opened it only a crack, and looked at my disheveled frame with a furrowed and critical, if not confused expression on her face. "Miss Perrin? What are ye doing here?" she queried: peering through the crevice. A note of concern laced her tone, but I was having none of it. The longer I delayed by engaging her in trivial conversation, the more James was put at risk. And that was not a chance I was ready to take.

"I need to speak with the Captain," I groaned: forcing my way into the manor and pushing my way past her. I could tell by her countenance that she was not only confused, but alarmed. Although I'd not known her long, she knew that it was not like me to be so forthright, and woven into my words was a pressing element of urgency.

"R—Right this way, Miss," she stammered: gesturing to the door of the room I'd stayed in while incapacitated.

As I creaked the door open, my breaths grew heavier. I was nervous to see him again so soon after revealing my engagement to Lord Beckett to him, but the imminent danger of the Sword being in Norrington's possession heightened the worry that pounded so loud in my chest, drowning out almost any other sound.

But then, everything changed.

The door to the room that had been mine only a short while previous swung open wide, revealing an intensely focused Captain Norrington, who was staring, wide-eyed with amazement and horror, at the whirring surge of electricity engulfing the Sword, which he had grasped the hilt of with both hands.

"James!" I exclaimed: trying to raise my voice over the deafening static emanating from the Sword.

"Ariana!" he managed to reply, his voice barely shouting as his eyes met mine for but a moment. Norrington looked downward, focusing his gaze back on the Sword: the faintest trace of fear and uncertainty showing through his shimmering hazel-brown eyes. "Erm… I hate to state the obvious, but… I am fairly certain that there is something… wrong… with your Sword."

I watched in alarm as James steadily lost more and more control of the Sword. It had become quite heavy, glowing blue, and I was unsure how much longer he'd be able to withstand the pressure, and what would become of him as an unintended wielder. He'd neither been cursed by the Aztec treasure Barbossa had told me of, nor did he have the blood of Cortés flowing through his veins: making him intensely vulnerable to the raw, untamed power of the Sword.

"Darling, I promise, I'll explain everything! Just… hold on!"

"Explain what? You mean you know what is going on with this accursed thing?!" James replied in surprise: his gaze darting back and forth between me and the Sword in disbelief, which was written across his comely face. His voice grew grave. "Ariana, what is going on? More secrets..?"

Damn it. I wanted to go to him. He was afraid: something that would have been perhaps unreadable to the eye of a stranger, but I could see deeper—far beneath the exterior of Port Royal's most chivalrous captain. The Sword challenged all of his sensibilities, and one could only be in Its presence and know that the energy seeping from Its blade would be lethal if placed in the wrong hands.

My mouth moved to speak, but no words came. How could I possibly begin to explain the truth of who I was? And the great, evil power that Sword held? It was not the sort of revelation that could be made over tea and crumpets—never mind this pivotal moment which placed him in imminent danger—as I well knew.

In a panic, I stormed in, panting breathlessly, and before I could even notice that my drawing closer only made things a thousand time's worse, it was already too late.

As I grasped onto the Sword, I wrapped my hands tight over my love's: feeling the tender warmth of our fingers intertwining—with hesitation on his end, at first—before a great flash of blinding white light engulfed us and forced us to shield our eyes in each other's close, protective embrace.

And in an instant, the world about us vanished, and the Sword of Cortés fell with a tremendous clatter to the floor of Norrington's guest bedroom.

—*—

Cold. That was not the sensation I'd been expecting. Then again, had I been expecting anything when I grasped hold of that Sword? The entire day had been a whirlwind of unprecedented and unexplained events, and this hardly seemed stranger than any of the other revelations that had been thrust upon me. If the sky turned green, I wouldn't have balked at the change.

I moaned slightly—part of me wished to get up, but then another part of me didn't. Letting my eyes remain shut for a little while longer so I could soak in the reverie that was the warmth of James's body beneath mine, a small smile spread across my face. The wool of his heavy overcoat had protected me from feeling bruised from my fall, and for that, I was quite grateful.

"James?" I whispered as I carefully opened my eyes and crawled off of him: tumbling into a tuft of fine brown sand.

Norrington let out a soft sigh as he stirred back to life. As he became fully awake, his eyes darted open, and bolting upright, he proclaimed in a confusion: "Where on Earth are we?"

"Where, indeed!" came the unexpected voice of Captain Barbossa: his welcoming tone soon replaced with a fit of maniacal laughter as he emerged, capuchin monkey perched on his shoulder, from out of the distance. "Finally, somebody be askin' the right questions. Well, truth be told, this place be more a state of mind than an actual place."

"Who the hell are you?" Norrington commanded defensively: unsheathing his sword and pushing me behind his back as he raised the weapon to Barbossa's throat. "And I ask again… where are we, pirate?"

"Ah, well, since ye asked so politely," Barbossa drawled sarcastically: flicking Norrington's sword away from his throat before turning his back to us and faced the glorious beauty of the emerald green sky and vast stretch of sea before us—spreading his arms with his customary dramatic flourish: "Captain Norrington and Ariana Perrin de Cortés, let me bid thee fair welcome to Fiddler's Green."

I furrowed my brows. Fiddler's Green? Was that not a safe haven for pirates who had died at sea… a myth that had gone back centuries? I heard no fiddle, and no merrymaking. There was no dancing and debauchery: as far as I could tell. There was nobody. Nothing but stale air, a still sea, and the tiniest breeze. Our surroundings looked eerily familiar: a mirror of things known to me and long forgotten—but lacked anything that would make it easy to pinpoint why I felt like I'd been here before.

Stop rationalizing, Ariana, I thought. And then, I scoffed.

Why did I even bother trying to explain this to myself?

As I'd already learned earlier that day, nothing in my life was as it seemed, and strangely enough, that was starting to feel normal to me.


Dun dun dun! Soooo, what do you think Fiddler's Green may be? Why were Norrington and Ariana brought there by the Sword, and what is Barbossa's role in all of this? Stay tuned to find out! The next chapter will be up shortly.

Thank you again for reading, and please don't forget to R&R/subscribe, and all that jazz! You can count on regular postings from here on out. However, I will be updating my stories by the order of reviews received, so please, do review. By reviewing, you are casting a vote for which story gets updated next! Thanks again for your love and support. :o)