Despite nightfall, St. Martin was very much alive this night, with many passersby coming and going after Sunday prayer services. Though we kept to the shadows, I felt my father tense up, very aware that he couldn't get far in town without his oceanic disfigurement being recognized.

Spying the tailor shop I had stolen my present attire from and noticing that it was just about to close down for the evening, I wordlessly began to march across the street in its direction. My father's hand grabbed my shoulder.

"And where do you think you're going?" he hissed.

"We can't get far with you looking like that! I was going to nick you a cloak or something!"

He widened his eyes and shook his head. "You were going to steal?"

I shrugged. "Isn't that what pirates do?"

He closed his eyes, sighing. "No, that merely makes you a common thief." Reaching to his belt, he untied a pouch and laid in my hands. "Go and pay for it. We are not heathens."

I loosened the neck of the pouch, pouring the contents into my hand, which was mostly seawater and twelve or so black disks that used to be pieces of silver. Picking one up, I asked, "Oh, you really think they'll accept these?"

"It's better than being caught for stealing, wherein you go to jail and I am used as a scientific experiment. Go!"

I begrudgingly obeyed, and though the merchant inside gave me grief for the horribly tarnished silver, as was to be expected, he eventually was able to polish a piece proving its value and sold me a cloak. I returned it to my father, where he put it on and followed me to the only inn in town, being careful to remain completely concealed.

As we approached, he led the way through the entrance. The room was dank and dark, and an elderly woman was fast asleep over her counter, flask in hand.

Father poked her arm. Then he nudged her shoulder. When she still didn't respond, he sidestepped her entirely and walked up the haphazardly constructed stairs. I followed in silence, and watched as he knocked on a closed door. Once deducing that it was unoccupied, he opened it, examined the interior, then held the door open for me to enter.

"It's not much," he said, "But it will do for tonight."

"And what if we're discovered?" I asked.

He wedged a chair beneath the door handle, barricading us inside. "We'll run," he replied simply.

I sat down on the bed cushion while he made his way to the broken window pane and pried it open to let in some of the humid air in to freshen up the room. The rays of the full moon outside silhouetted him as he gazed out. The silence was utterly unbearable, but I was petrified to even move a muscle. I wished so badly my mother could be here as a mediator between us both. Even if both she and my father were lecturing me for running off, I would take it over the silence that we were currently suffering through.

Finally, he broke it with, "Alright. You got here somehow, how are we departing?"

I gulped. "We can't."

Stop being vague, please, and answer my question," he snapped, turning towards me. "You didn't fly, you didn't transport yourself with magic, so how did you get here?"

"I mean, it's too late for that now."

"Answer the—"

"The Navy took the Dauntless!" I blurted. When I saw his utterly confused expression, as he only knew the Dauntless as his former prize vessel, and not the schooner I had embarrassingly named in its memory, my face went a shade of deep red.

"…the…what are you saying?" he asked.

"I mean, our boat. My boat," I clarified. "They took it away from Henry and me."

"And, if you'll kindly answer the question this time, where's Henry?"

Jaw tight, I snarled, "I don't know."

He sighed. "We're not leaving here until both of you are in my care, so you might as well give him up."

"I swear it, I do not know!" I insisted. "He was press ganged by the Navy, and that was the last I saw of him."

Father shook his head slightly in alarm. "Press ganged? Under who's command? Which vessel?"

"The Monarch."

"The Monarch?" He searched his memory. "What did the captain look like?"

"I couldn't catch sight of him," I reported.

Pensively, he began to pace the room. "If Toms is still alive, then I pity the lad. Toms is a bastard." He stopped, turning back to me. "That still doesn't make any sense. Why is St. Martin's Navy so depleted? Is that why they took your boat?" When I nodded, he asked, "Is there a war on?"

I shrugged. "There's murmurings of unrest in the American colonies."

Father rolled his eyes. "As if no one saw that coming. Well, at least that makes sense." He then became preoccupied with looking about the room, then nearing the curtains and untying a rope which strung them together for decoration. "Lucky for us," he said, coiling it up, "I know the Monarch." He then unlatched the belt which held his effects around his chest. Nearing me, he ordered simply, "Wrists." Confused, I obeyed, stretching them out towards him. Silently he began to tie them together with the curtain rope and fastening them to the bedpost.

"What are you doing?" I asked in alarm.

"If I chase one child," he said, now synching my ankles together with the belt, "The other will bolt.

"No I won't!" I insisted, a little angry at myself for not considering that otherwise ingenious plan before he anticipated it.

As though reading my mind, Father skeptically raised an eyebrow at me. "So you're staying put for now until I get back." Standing, he picked the wall opposite me to try to transport straight to the Monarch's deck and retrieve Henry. He closed his eyes and put his weight into his shoulder, moving collide with the stone of the wall. His shoulder crashed against it with a hard thud, and he recoiled. Nothing had happened…the transport was unsuccessful. Alarmed, he tried again, once more to no avail.

"It was the Monarch, that much I'm certain of," I said defensively.

"No, this is…curious," he said, trying and failing for a third time. "I've never felt this before. It's clearly not wrong, I just…I'm blocked." Suddenly, realization washed over his face. "Bloody brilliant."

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

Exasperated, Father marched back to me and began to untie me. "This can only mean one thing: The ship has sunk."

My stomach felt like it was doing flips. "…no," I whispered. How could that possibly be?

Unlatching the belt from my feet, his eyes bore into mine. "Henry could be dead, and who would know? What were you thinking?"

"We wanted to help you!" I cried, standing up.

"We never asked—" he began.

I cut him off with, "You never tried! All of you gave up! This was the only way!"

Father was staying extremely calm despite my attacks. "We asked you but one thing—to forget us. I was alive once. I had a death. Will was alive once. He had a death. We had our chance. Anything beyond that has been unplanned. And yet you couldn't even obey that command."

I shook my head defiantly. I refused to believe that Henry was gone forever. "Henry promised he'd return," I said. "If we wait, we can all sail for Shipwreck together. Jack, the Gull, all of us!"

Father considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "…no." He then turned to return to the window.

"Why not?" I scoffed. "You said there's a plague on anyway! We have to wait regardless."

"The longer I'm out here, the more danger you're in," he said in monotone.

"Then let's fight together as one and not split apart!" I insisted. "If we wait for Henry—"

"If he's even still alive!" Father spat, silencing me. Then, softer, he maintained, "It will take us weeks as is to get ourselves back to Shipwreck. If we wait any longer, there will be hell to pay." Distantly, he considered, "If Henry returns here…he's a man now. He's capable of fending for himself. I'm sure he can find his way back.

Anger rushed through me at this comment. "And I'm not capable of defending myself?"

"You're not safe anywhere but with your mother on Shipwreck," he said flippantly.

"And Henry is somehow more safe? Just because he's a man?"

"I made a promise to Rose."

"-to bring us both back," I cried. "If you're going to break the promise halfway, you might as well not fulfill it at all and let me carry on in my plan."

He spun on his heel and pointed at me emphatically, saying, "You will not raise your voice to me! Do you want to be discovered?" I was shaken by his intensity, and dared not test him any further. Voice low and threatening, he commanded, "We're done talking about this now. In the morning, when hopefully you can talk to me with a clear head, we can try again. Until then, I expect you to rest."

He turned away, fuming. I was shaken by feeling his wrath, but even more shaken by the coldness emanating from him. From my father.

Defeated, I sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to feel tears welling up in my eyes. No, I scolded myself. Stop it at once. I struggled to maintain my composure. It had been such an unexpectedly trying day, between nearly losing everything I had worked for and finally being able to tell my uncle the truth, and nearly keelhauling myself above all of else, reuniting with my father after thirteen long years. Now understanding that not only was it all for not, but also that Henry might very well have perished for it, I wanted nothing more than to collapse and succumb to the pressure of it all. But I couldn't let my father see me cry. Not here. Not like this. Not after just having met. So I kept my gaze focused on my feet, taking deep breaths and struggling to keep calm.

Father had turned back to me however. "Did you hear what I said?" he spoke quietly. "Rest."

I felt an intake of air shudder through my lungs, and my voice cracked as I blurted, "I will. In a moment." I couldn't stop the tears from falling, and quickly brushed them away, though I knew he was watching.

He walked back and sat on the edge of the bed opposite me. After a moment of feeling the heat of his gaze, he said gently, "Tears won't do any good. We'll reassess in the morning, alright?" I couldn't form words, knowing full well that if I did, I would lose what last remaining control I had left. "Anna?" he asked. "Look at me."

I exhaled sharply, obeying him. I felt the tears flow rapidly and my jaw quiver upon looking at his face…ravaged by the sea. Unrecognizable as anything close to human. The tears blurred my vision, but I could still see the concern in his eyes as he said, "Anna…"

"Father!" I blurted, freely sobbing as I rushed to him, burying my face and wrapping my arms around the damp, crusted material of his shirt and jacket. After a moment, I felt his arms return my embrace. Silently, we stayed there in a bittersweet space of liminality, somewhere between love and resentment, gratefulness and regret. This was my father, just as I was his daughter, the one person we had longed to know more than any other. And despite our being there in that moment, our being little more than strangers to one another wedged itself between us as a cruel reminder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered between sobs. "I wanted to save you. I never wanted this to happen."

"None of us did," he murmured. "But we can't look backward and dwell on what's passed. If this is our fate, we can only cope with its conditions and learn from them."

I didn't move from my embrace, almost afraid that if I did, I would lose him once more. "But what if our fates can be changed?"

I felt his chest rise to answer me, though no words ever came. His inability to answer my question was answer enough. He had stopped believing in change. He had stopped believing in a happy ending. And honestly, I was beginning to doubt my own as well.


I awoke with a start when I heard a sharp pounding at the door of the room we had snuck into. I had fallen asleep on my father's shoulder that night, and he hadn't moved an inch the entire night. When we heard the commotion and knew at once that we had been discovered, we shared a terrified glance.

"Who's in there?" a shrill voice barked, now pounding harder. "Open up, you cheats!"

"I'll transform below to the street right outside," Father whispered, grabbing his cloak. "Stay here and stall."

"What, you're just going to leave me here to fend off whoever's out there alone?" I asked incredulously.

"If there's trouble, scream and I'll take care of it."

I wanted to protest, telling him that I could fend for myself, but it was no use— he didn't know me, nor know that I had weaponry experience. I longed for my pistol more than ever to prove my worth in combat.

"I can hear you in there!" the woman yelled once more, now shoving all of her body weight against the door.

Father gave me a quick nod, then vanished into the wall just as I had seem Mother do dozens of times in my youth.

Just then, the innkeeper and her husband pummeled through the door, busting it off its hinges and sending the chair skittering across the floor of the room. I bolted out of the bed, my hands raised in surrender. "Apologies, sir, ma'am! I…I can explain!"

"Explain why you snuck into a room overnight? And where's the fellow, huh? I heard a man's voice in here!"

I shrugged, feigning innocence. "It's just me, ma'am! I swear it!"

"Well, begone with ya!" she barked, shooing me out of the room.

"Yeah! And don't come back!" her less-than-effective husband cried after me.

"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "Wasn't planning on it."

Marching out, I met my father, who was waiting for me nervously in the alleyway between two shops. "Any trouble?" he asked.

"Only emotional," I snorted. "But otherwise, no. I'm afraid its the stables from here on out."

"Well, ideally, this is the last night we stay here," he replied, leading the way back through town, directly back towards the docks. My interested peaked. Perhaps he had reconsidered. Perhaps we were going to sail with Jack after all!

We happened upon the crew of the Gull, once again hard at work on the crusty disaster that she was. Marty noticed us as we approached, drawing the rest of their attention to us, including Jack. He instantly noticed my cloaked father and his eyes lit up in amusement, unable to resist a dig. "Wow. Barely recognized you, Norrie," he smirked. "It's like you haven't molded a day past thirty!"

Father fumed. "Somehow, I managed to forget how much I loathe you."

Jack looked utterly pleased with himself, leaning to mutter to me, "He's only kidding. He looks up to me as a big brother, I know it!" I shared in the joke, and it felt good to laugh. I so desperately didn't want this moment to end. Jack clearly needed us as much as we needed him. I prayed that my father was wise enough to see this as well.

"So?" Jack asked. "You coming with us?"

I felt my heart stop, waiting those excruciating minutes where Father's eyes looked completely lost, as though he was fighting with himself for the right answer. Finally, he said, "No, I don't think we shall," and I felt my heart shatter. I looked up at him, my eyes imploring for him to reconsider, but he intentionally wouldn't return my stare.

Jack too seemed disappointed. "We're headed to the same place, mate. Really, it's no trouble."

But father was adamant. "We'll manage," was all he said.

This was an unmitigated disaster! Jack, plagued by a curse he wasn't aware of, was about to go galavanting off to the great unknown, only to possibly be met with more ill fortune. Meanwhile, Henry's fate was uncertain, and my father and I were about to depart back to Shipwreck, and the whole mission would have not only resulted in no progress in helping any of our fates, but would have actually caused more harm.

I refused to believe Henry was dead. In spite of all the hell I gave him, I fully recognized his incredible shrewdness and tenacity. Further, that boy was too stubborn to let something as simple as a shipwreck kill him. He promised me he would come back to Shipwreck. I had to buy him at least one more out.

So when my father coldly ordered, "Say goodbye, Anna," I said my farewells first to Pike, then Bollard, then Marty, then Scrum, then Cremble, then Gibbs, all while inwardly formulating a plan. By the time I got to my uncle, I was ready. First, the two of us broke into a wide grin and I embraced him firmly.

"If I would've known," Jack said once we had separated, "I would have liked to have known you sooner, lass."

I shook my head and shrugged. "It couldn't have happened any other way," I said with a smile. "And mother never held ill will against you for it, I promise." My smile faded when I remembered our shared pain. "I'm so sorry…about grandfather."

I felt my father shift uncomfortably behind me at the mention of my grandfather, who we both knew died at the hands of my father's ship. "Anna?" he said quietly.

We both ignored him. Jack gave a sad, sideways half-smile. "We all have our time, lass. Even blokes as tough as me Dad was." He lowered his voice as he asked in earnest, "Was…your mother there when he passed?"

"Anna," Father said again.

"Yes," I answered Jack, once more ignoring him.

I saw a flash of pain go through my uncle's expression at this, but he nodded, saying, "At least he was with her, then."

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Jack?" I asked, getting his attention back. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. The other day, I heard the town crier go on and on about the new Royal Bank they're opening…" My voice trailed off, and I twisted my face into a knowing smile.

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly getting my meaning. "…and…when will this bank be open, pray tell?"

"Wednesday," I reported. "Two days from now."

He stoked his beard thoughtfully. "Hmm," he considered. "Might be worth…one final heist before making our grand escape, you reckon?"

I shrugged, "I reckon."

He grinned a toothy grin once more, patting me on the shoulder. Looking over my head to my father, he said, "That's some daughter you have there, Norrington. Take care of her."

My father looked back at him. "I'm not certain I need parenting advice from the likes of you."

"She's her father's daughter," he replied.

Father snorted. "And not her mother's?"

"Certainly," said Jack. "How else did I suspect her, were it not the Hexfuriness? But nay, it is the qualities she shares with you that concern me the more."

I didn't understand what he meant by this. I looked at Father, whose brow continued to be furrowed and his face stone cold. "Come, Anna," he barked. "It's time we depart."

I cast one final look back at my uncle and his wayward crew, knowing that I would forever wonder what being among their ranks would have been like. But I had done my job, I had hoped, and perhaps I now had bought Henry enough time that he could arrive and find Jack himself.

"Give my regards to your mother, Anna!" Jack called after us.

"Bye, Thomas!" Scrum cried after my father enthusiastically. "See you 'round the pub, lad!"

Father rolled his eyes as we disappeared from view, and suddenly I felt incredibly alone once more. I was now powerless, completely at the mercy of my father for the next few weeks until being returned to the care of my mother. I had to resign myself to the fact that my independence was fun while it lasted.

My father's voice stirred me from my thoughts as we walked. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" I responded.

"I know a strategy when I see one. Why do you want Jack to stay in St. Martin?"

"No strategy," I said with a shrug. "Just a suggestion."

"I also know a lie when I see one." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Let me guess. This has something to do with some ill-conceived scheme that you and Henry are pursuing to help the Dutchman." I couldn't stop my shocked expression, as he had completely guessed my intentions. "Not a hard one to read, you are," he said smugly. "And how is that plan going? You were en route to landing right where you started from."

I calculated my response before I replied to him. When I finally did, my words were biting. "I grew up hearing stories about people paying the ultimate sacrifice to make sure their plan continues on without them. I suppose I'm following their example."

His eyes turned downcast, and my meaning was not at all lost on him. I was referring to his own sacrifice made for both Mother and Elizabeth. After a moment, he nodded, but still he maintained, "And yet you are wasting their time for the sake of this plan."

He walked on ahead of me, and I took a deep breath to keep my composure. How was it that I felt more at ease with my half-uncle I had known for less than a week than my own father I had had three years with? All I knew is that my plan was in motion, and that I had a long next few weeks ahead of me.