Hey, sorry for the update lack the past day or two. This is a REALLY long
chapter (like twenty one pages long, not even handwritten) but it has SO
MUCH romance in it, it's gonna make your heads hurt. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer: *rapping loudly on street* They don't belong to me, no they don't!
The visits continued through until I was twelve, when she and I both became very aware of certain changes and differences.
During that period of time, however, I learned plenty about Ms. Swann. She was a tomboy, of sorts, when she was young, and for every tree that I climbed and every rope that I swung off of, she could climb higher than I and swing farther than I. She amazed me; she was so vibrant and full of life that she beamed with every smile she gave. She was always forced to wear dresses, then would take me out into her yard and we would climb the trees and through bushes, and she would virtually ruin the dress. It got to the point where Ms. Smith stopped forcing me to wear my good clothes and allowed me to go to the Swann mansion without changing. Ms. Swann would teach me how to play the piano, until we both tired of it and moved on. We were playmates as we were meant to be; there was no deep sustainance to our relationship. It was plain and simple, nothing complicated about it.
Well, perhaps it seemed that way to the world.
What I'm trying to say is that although our relation was that of the simplest friends, I often found myself complicating things in my head. I would suddenly pause from our chasing game and just watch her run about the yard, and the word that came to my mind were that of when I first saw her: angel. Somehow, when I just paused to look at her, she made my heart beat faster, and made me feel as though I understood anything and everything. Hence, I christened her The Angel, My Angel, although the nickname was confined only to my thoughts. She was beautiful, beautiful like an angel, and everything about her was angelic. From the way she walked, to the way she flushed when she ran, to simply the way the turned her head to the right when she was concerned about something.
When my twelfth year began its seventh month, I suddenly began to shoot up in height. I put on weight, and lost weight, gaining and losing in different areas. My voice at first began to squeak (rather embarrassingly, actually), but eventually evened out to a tone much lower than its original pitch. These were the first of many changes on my behalf.
She was growing too, in more ways than one, many of which are improper to state on paper. But I began to notice that she was taller, and she was beginning to look like a woman, both in figure and in face. There were no longer any traces of baby teeth lost, and she began to take her piano responsibilities much more seriously. And she slowly stopped finding a need to go outside and swing through branches, or go swimming in the ocean. She sang like the Angel she was, and...
Well, to put it in short, as I am incapable of finding the right words, we matured.
It was a silent settlement between the two of us that I needn't come around to "play" with her anymore. Of course, I did on occassion, simply to be polite and make sure it was what she wanted. But those visits would only last an hour at most, and seemed terribly uncomfortable, as though there was some force hanging above us. It was nothing to do with us as people; I imagine we would normally enjoy one another's company quite well. It was merely the age and time that set us apart. At our age, during that time, boys and girls did not normally associate with one another unless in a romantic sense, so us being friends was far out of the question.
Of course, I couldn't help but wonder if we could get romantically involved.
It was the slightest of a thought. I brushed it away rather quickly, telling myself it was a misconception of feelings. I was simply missing my childhood playmate, and it was time for me to grow up and focus on my blacksmithing duties. I now could return to my daily chores at Mr. Gruber's, and having been genuinely interested (and done a great deal of separate studying on my own), I knew very much about the art of swordsmanship. I was thirteen when I threw myself head first into the work of a blacksmith. Mr. Gruber was getting old, but he taught me what he could, and I quickly mastered everything. It was not long before I could make a very complicated sword with the simplest of directions.
Every now and then, however, I would pause to wonder.
I still believed that my father was somewhere out there on the island of Tortuga, waiting for me. I had learned much about the island since my arrival, that it was a place of rum and scandalous women, and assured myself that my father had no other business there than to wait for me. Or perhaps his merchant boat had sunk and he had lost all his fortune, forcing him to live a life of poverty on that pathetic isle.
I also wondered what my life would be like had my mother not died. I would possibly still be in England, living with her, and I would also be uneducated and without a job. I would never have known Ms. Smith, nor My Angel. This made me feel strange, almost as though I had to choose between the two: my mother or Ms. Swann. I assumed that I must forge on with what I was given, and I had been given Ms. Swann.
It was somewhere during this time period that my master Mr. Gruber discovered the wonders of alcohol. He began to spend more time at the pub than at his own shop, bringing bottles back with him. When he was around, he was either drunk or asleep, mostly asleep. This left all the work to me. I was the one making all the swords, taking the opportunity as a chance to show my real talent. All of those who ordered the swords saw them as such high quality, they could hardly believe they were made by Gruber himself. "Fine work, he's been doing lately, that Gruber." I heard these comments as they left the store, never bothering to say a word about the apprentice. The situation seemed terribly ironic to me.
I often became fed up with doing all the work and receiving none of the credit whatsoever, and sought the advice of Ms. Smith.
"You've got to do what you think is right," she told me. "Do you believe it's right to deprive all the people in Port Royal of their swords, and let them know that Mr. Gruber is a drunk?"
"Well, I think they should know the truth," I said.
"So you're going to tell them the truth that Mr. Gruber is a drunk," she said approvingly. "Then what'll happen? I imagine that Mr. Gruber would lose any trace of a reputation he ever had, and no one will ever buy anything from him again. And what would all this bad outcome be for? Oh, yes. So that Will Turner could get some credit."
I sighed. "Must you be so blunt?"
"It's my job," she said, smiling. "Now, what are you going to do?"
"Keep working," I muttered.
"There we go."
Hence I kept my position as the apprentice, while actually performing the duties of the blacksmith himself. Meanwhile, I suppose there was some teenager energy pressed up within me (perhaps it was hormones), but I often felt different emotions. There was never any woman in my life, and though I often thought of My Angel, my romantic interests were still practically nonexistent. I gave this energy and the anger for the loss of my father, mother, and Captain Sir into swordmaking and, eventually, sword fighting.
See, I had promised myself years back that I would avenge the losses in my life, all caused by pirates. Surrounded by weapons constantly, I had the opportunity to practice with any sword at my will. I taught myself how to fight using a sword, and it seemed to come fairly naturally to me. With every violent stroke I pushed, I thought of the death of my mother, the last image of Captain Sir, or how I had never seen my father. This motivation allowed me to push harder on the next stroke, and the next, and the next, and so forth. After all, I had no other occupations to keep me busy. As I stated earlier, my romantic life was literally nonexistent, and school was far since over. I did not drink any sort of alcohol after viewing Mr. Gruber's problem first-hand, and the though the townspeople were friendly, they were hardly what I would call friends.
My Angel was the only friend I ever had.
She was growing into a beautiful young lady as the years went by. She was taller and more sophisticated, her hair grown long and soft. I longed to touch that hair now, it was curled in some places and straight in others. Now when I saw her passing on the street, she would give a smile and a wave, and I would wave shortly in return. Yet my breath would still catch in my throat the way it did since I was eleven, and I wanted to run up to her and touch her or... or something. But I could never do that, this I knew. It was a simple impraticality and a fact of life. She was The Angel and I was the peasant. The Angel never found the peasant to be appealing, except for when she gave him alms or some such thing. The Angel most often found the prince to be the appealing one.
Enter Captain Norrington.
It was apparent ever since her debut ball that he was as in love with her than I was.
And to make a long story short, by the time I had turned fifteen, I had faced the deafening conclusion that I was, indeed, in love with her. It was terrible; I cursed myself for having such feelings that were bound for disappointment. But it never went away.
Anyway, both were apparent ever since her debut ball: my being in love with her, as well as the Commodore. Let me explain properly.
It had been three years since I had stopped visiting her regularly, although her father made many a stop at Mr. Gruber's to place orders for his army. In fact, Governor Swann's orders were the orders I spent most time and care on. It was, however, one morning just before I was to turn sixteen that he came to me.
Mr. Gruber was asleep in a corner, hardly visible to anyone who was to walk in. I would give the same tale that I told whenver a man walked in: Mr. Gruber is out right now, may I be of any service?
The Governor walked in, not bothering to knock, and I looked up from hammering the metal on a sword I was working on; coincidentally, one of his.
"Hello, Will, my boy," he said, smiling slightly. "How are you doing?"
"Very well, sir, and you?" I had finally been able to use the name "sir" without choking on my tongue.
"Quite well, myself, thank you."
I held up the sword frame I was working on. "Coming along very nicely, sir."
"Thank you, Will. Where is Mr. Gruber?" He looked around.
"Oh," I said, eyes widening, moving to a corner to make Mr. Gruber virtually invisible. "He's not here right now. I imagine he went to pre- order some metal framing."
The Governor nodded. "Good, that's very good. I wanted to speak to you in private, actually."
I wrinkled my brow and gestured to the empty space. "We have all the privacy in the world, sir."
He smiled again and gingerly took a seat on a rickety bench. "You see, Will, my boy, I have a favor to ask of you."
"A favor, sir?"
"Yes, a favor. It concerns Elizabeth."
I forced myself against blushing, swallowing hard, needing some cold water. "Ms. Swann?"
"I don't know if you know about this, Will, but many girls of Elizabeth's age have a debut ball. A ceremony to represent a coming of age, almost. And, well, Elizabeth is just about the right age. She is having her ball in three days actually, did she tell you?"
"No, sir," I said, feeling some unknown emotion, and yet, it was strangely familiar. "Ms. Swann and I are merely friendly acquaintances now." Sadness.
I had never related that emotion to My Angel before, but suddenly, it was stabbing me in my heart. Over and over and over. We were simply acquaintances, nothing more, not even friends. Just two folks on the street who once upon a time knew one another well. I suddenly felt a need to throw up.
"I see," he said, shifting once more. "Will, Elizabeth needs a young escort for her debut, and on a normal occassion, I would ask Captain Norrington or one of the soldiers to accompany her, but she won't have it. She claims she wants someone of her age, and will not listen to my lectures on class or appearances." He sighed, wearily rubbing his brow. "So I have come to you as a last resort in order for her to attend the ball. Would you mind being Elizabeth's escort to the ball?"
He had been polite, not friendly, and certainly not nice. I was his last resort, I would always be his last resort. But there was no one in their right mind who would tell the Governor 'no'. There was also the tiny matter that the thought of accompanying My Angel anywhere was more than enough to spark my interest. "I would be delighted, sir."
He exhaled, apparently relieved. "Wonderful. If she's not pleased with you, then I don't know what to do. Very well, you shall need to get some new clothes, fancier than what you wear to church if you will, and perhaps some new shoes, as well," he said, eyeing my footwear. His list continued on and on for miles, and with each new item, my head got a little heavier.
"If you'll pardon my interruption, sir," I said. "But I'm not quite sure I can afford all these items."
He studied me for a moment before saying, "Not to worry. We will provide them to you if you will send me your measurements. Now, I must be going, there is plenty of business to attend to. I appreciate your willingness to help."
He shook my hand, and walked out of the shop.
For the first time since he entered, I breathed.
A few hours later, I found myself at home as Ms. Smith threw some rope around me to measure me at every angle.
"Going out with the Governor's daughter, eh?" she asked me.
I sighed. "She needs an escort to her debut ball."
"I see," she replied. She threw it over my shoulder. "Did she ask you?"
"No, Governor Swann came into the shop this afternoon."
"Ah, yes. Are you excited?"
"Depends on what you'd call excited," I muttered under my breath.
It appeared that she hadn't heard me however. "You should be excited. Real fancy ball, it's going to be. I hear the Queen herself is going to be there." bloodsugar ratings no changes more readings 2 ws
I stayed silent. I didn't care who else was there, really, I was only there to be with one person.
Suddenly, Ms. Smith spun me around to face her. She looked at me, saying, "Listen, Will, I don't mean to be harsh, but you must remember that you are just her escort. I'm not saying it's impossible, anything is possible, but just don't get your hopes up."
My eyes widened at how she could read me so well. I tried not to let my surprise show, however. "I know better than to get my hopes up. It's fair enough to say that life's taught me that much."
"I know you know," she said kindly. "I just need to make sure. One disappointment is one disappointment too many."
"May I go to bed now?" I asked. I didn't wait for her reply, just falling straight into bed.
****************************
Three days passed rather quickly. I busied myself with work at the shop, trying not to think about the upcoming event. I even had Ms. Smith teach me how to dance.
And yet My Angel would not leave my mind. I thought of her consistently, her beauty never wavering once in my head. I would not see her in the street, possibly due to her impending debut, and I began to miss our childhood friendship days more than ever. I began to think of how she looked the very first time I ever saw her; her hair had lightened from that deep brown to a honey color since then, and she was of course very different in other ways too.
The clothes I was measured for were sent to my home at Ms. Smith's on the day of My Angel's debut ball, along with a note saying I was to arrive at the Swann Mansion at precisely six o'clock. Surprisingly enough, I had no trouble putting on the clothes, and though the shoes were not what I was accustomed to, I assumed I would grow into them. Ms. Smith bade me farewell for the evening, reminding me of my manners and to be a gentleman, and why couldn't I have just shaved a different way today?
But she knew I always cut my facial hair the same way, and I always would.
I arrived in front of the Swann Mansion just before six, waiting a good ten minutes before knocking. I stood there nervously, fidgeting with the new, somewhat uncomfortable clothes, and thinking of My Angel. Finally, I rapped the brass knocker.
The maid Magdalene answered the door, dressed up fancier than usual. "Why, hello Mr. Turner," she said in her usual Cockney. "It's good to be seeing you again. Come inside." She held the door open, and I stood inside anxiously.
"Uhh..." I glanced around the front hall I had once been so accustomed to seeing daily.
"The Governor said you were to go upstairs. He wanted to speak with you." She pointed to the stairs. "In his private office."
I swallowed, eyes widening again. "Yes. Yes, then-then I'll be going there." I took my time climbing up every stair, wondering what the Governor wanted with me. I knocked on his mahogany door.
"Come in," he said.
I walked inside the room.
"Ah," he said, turning to face me. "Will, my boy. Good to see you. Thank you for coming tonight. The clothes fit well, I imagine?"
I was choking in the collar. "Perfectly."
"Excellent." He took a seat at his desk, and motioned for me to sit across from him. He poured himself a drink. "Ale, Will?"
"No thank you," I said, not very fond of alcohol at all, especially after seeing its effects on Mr. Gruber.
"There was a reason I called to speak to you, Will," he said. "I want you to know that this ball is very important to Elizabeth's future."
"Yes, sir. I understand completely."
"It decides many things about her life to come, for it is, as I said, a presenting ball."
"I see, sir."
"It may very well decide whom she marries."
Whom she marries? "I understand the weight of the situation, sir." I shut my eyes for just a moment, compressing any eruptions of emotion.
"That's very good news to my ears, Will, for I intend this night to truly be Elizabeth's presentation. You understand that, don't you? She will be dancing with you as well as others.... I presume you know the styles of dance we will be doing tonight?"
I certainly hoped so. "Of course, sir."
"Then it will all go as planned. You will escort Elizabeth down the stairs, and the ball will progress. You will catch on, don't worry."
"Where is Ms. Swann, sir?"
"I believe she is almost dressed. But you may wait outside her room door."
"Thank you sir."
I stood up and left Governor Swann's private office, making my way down the hall to My Angel's bedroom. I stood just outside the door, and could hear various noises coming from within. There were shrieks and screams, as well as some gasps. Altogether, it sounded quite... Sexual, if you'll excuse my vulgar terms. I, however, simply paced in the space in front of the door, trying to ignore the continual noise from the other side.
It continued until the doorknob turned, and out walked my Angel... crashing right into me.
"Will!" she exclaimed, stepping away.
"Ms. Swann!" I said, surprised. I looked at her. For the first time since I'd ever known her, her hair was piled atop her head, some few strands hanging down. She wore a yellow dress I'd never seen before, but (to the delight of my teenage mind) it highlighted everything. I took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "You- you look lovely," I nearly whispered.
"Thank you!" she said, smiling. "You look very nice yourself."
"Your father sent me the clothes," I replied, adding a grateful smile.
"You needn't thank us," she said. "Really, it's you I should be thanking. It was incredibly nice of you to come with me."
"It's my pleasure," I said, meaning every sound of it.
She leaned in a litte closer and said softly, "Father wanted me to go with Captain Norrington. But he's so old! I wanted to go with someone I could have fun with."
I offered her a smile.
Magdalene rushed up the stairs. "Miss! Miss, it's time for your big entrance! Are you ready?"
"Yes," Ms. Swann said. "Does everything look all right?"
"You look beautiful, Miss," Magdalene said.
"Why thank you, Maggie," she said. "Are you ready, Will?"
I nodded. "Yes, Ms. Swann."
I took her arm in mine, and we began to walk down the stairs leading to the ballroom of their mansion. I noticed that everything went quiet, and everyone in the room was watching us. I could see very few that I could recognize, only Governor Swann and Captain Norrington, whom I had never met. Yet I was only capable of concentrating on the feel of her hand in mine; it was so warm and soft, I wanted to hold it forever. Her hands were graceful and smooth, like a bird's wings. I took a deep breath, remembering Ms. Smith's words. I must stay in control of myself, I thought. It was far too easy to get carried away with her so close to me, and I knew not what I might do if I let myself slip even in the slightest. And, almost as quickly as we had begun, we reached the end of the stairwell.
Everyone in the room clapped loudly for some reason. She let go of my arm, leaving me cold and stiff, and curtsied. I took a step back as she did this, waiting for the music to resume its place. Then suddenly, Governor Swann took the center of the ballroom floor.
"Now, we begin the debutante's dance," he said.
My brow furrowed. Debutante's dance?
Ms. Swann was looking at me rather expectantly.
I gave her a confused look.
She mouthed: We're supposed to dance!
My eyes widened. What? No one had mentioned this to me. I would be forced to follow Ms. Swann's lead. She curtsied, and I did what Ms. Smith had taught me to do, I bowed. We began a traditional dance of England in the center of the room, while the others looked on.
I stepped towards her, taking her hand. As we turned, I whispered into her ear, "What are we doing?"
"We're dancing!" she hissed.
We stepped back twice, then once to the left, then once to the right. We walked towards one another again, and I took a light hold of her waist with my left hand, holding her hand with my right. I tried not to focus on the feel of her body brushing softly against mine, but instead said so that only she could hear, "Nobody told me about this!"
"What?" she asked, sounding surprised, but the smile kept on her face.
"Nobody told me we were supposed to dance with everyone watching right away!"
We began to turn the other direction, and I reversed my hold on her.
"Not even Father? That's strange." We continued to speak in an inaudible manner.
"I'm sorry I wasn't prepared," I managed before we stepped backwards again. I took three steps to my left, coming four to the right, then one to the front. I took her hand in mine again, and we made a slow, even turn.
"It's all right, just keep smiling," she said.
A few moments later, she said to me, "You're a very natural dancer. Whom did you learn from?"
It took me a moment to mutter and confess, "Ms. Smith." I smiled at her.
"Really? I never would have known, you're far better than some of these soldiers you know."
I blushed. She was so beautiful. I never wanted to let go of her hand, of her waist. I never wanted the dance to end, for it meant that, even if only for a brief moment, I could come into conact with her. Even when it was a simple brush of the hand, it made my skin tingle where hers had been. With every turn we made, the longing for her inside me became stronger, and I was forced to remind myself of my place and the fact that all my fantasies could never come true.
And all too soon, the orchestra stopped playing their song. I bowed, My Angel curtsied. We walked away from the crowd as the orchestra struck up another tune, and many couples resumed dancing.
"What now?" I asked her.
"Well, we can dance again whenever you like," she said. "And I suppose you're free to dance with others-"
"As are you," I interjected somewhat rudely.
She smiled. "As am I. But we are expected to be together the rest of the time. You are, after all, my escort."
I gave her another small smile as we found a place to stand, somewhere towards a corner. There were a few moments of unearthly silence.
"We are allowed to talk, you know," she said, smiling.
"A-all right, Ms. Swann." Why must I stutter?
She suddenly turned to face me. "Will Turner, how long have we known one another, and yet you still call me Ms. Swann?"
"I... I suppose it would be the proper thing to do."
"Proper?" she asked, and through the glint in her eye I could see my childhood friend again. "No, the only thing I think is proper is for you to call me Elizabeth from now on. All right?"
Elizabeth? Call My Angel by her first name? I wanted to tell her no, for I knew this was the first step to unraveling my binding ropes, the ropes that kept me controlled when I was near her. "All right, Elizabeth."
"Thank you."
"So," she said after a few moments. "How have you been doing lately?"
"Well, actually," I said. "I've been rather well."
"Father tells me you've been taking your apprenticeship very seriously."
"Oh, yes," I lied. "Very seriously." More like taking my blacksmith duties seriously, but I could never tell her that. "I plan on maybe opening a shop of my own someday... What about you?"
"Oh, I'm doing fine," she said, looking strangely uncomfortable. "I've been practicing walking with books on my head, for posture, and I still ride horses, but-"
Suddenly, a soldier of about thirty five years or so walked up to My Angel, and asked her for a dance.
She looked at me, almost as though to make sure it was all right.
Don't do that, I thought, but let her know it was all right just by the expression on my face.
She walked away with him, and I turned my head. I knew I would not be able to stand watching it. Certainly not after I had danced with her. Now that I knew what it was like to dance with her, there was a part of my mind that thought I should be the only one to dance with her, to hold her hand. I still wanted her so much; she was so beautiful in every aspect. I knew this night would be etched in stone in my mind forever.
Eventually, my head forced itself around to look, and it was though my blood began to boil in a way I never knew it could. I could see that old man touching her, putting his hands on her, and though she did not appear to be smiling, she was not protesting either. I had the urge to run up to him, remove him from her, something. Anything to stop me from feeling the way I was feeling. I could feel myself dropping to the ground, losing myself. I wanted to scream and yell, let the tremor inside me loose.
And then, as soon as I had shut my eyes, I felt her slender finger tap me on the shoulder.
I spun around instantly, no longer needing to force a smile when I saw her face. "Hello."
"Hello," she said, laughing slightly.
"Did you have fun?" I asked, gesturing to the soldier, in attempt to be polite.
"I suppose," she replied, sounding uneasy once more. "You're a far better dancer than he was, though," she whispered.
"Thank you," I told her. I paused awkardly before saying, "You were telling me exactly how you were doing, before he-"
"Oh, yes," she said. "I still ride horses, and I'm walking with books on my head, but..."
"But?" I dared to take a step closer to her.
She looked up at me. "But sometimes I still feel terribly lonely."
I gave her a sharp glance reflexively.
She continued. "I miss you, Will. I miss you terribly."
I surprised myself by saying, "I miss you, too, Elizabeth."
We were simply inches away from one another, just one staring intently at the other. I looked into her beautiful brown eyes, turned to the color of earth over the years. Her structured nose and perfectly aligned teeth; I felt so unworthy standing next to someone of her calibur. But I merely stood and stared, her doing the same, for Lord knew how long, until we were interrupted once more.
"Elizabeth," a deep voice said.
She spun around, holding her gaze on me for as long as she could. "Captain Norrington."
"And Mr. Turner," the Captain said, nodding briefly in my direction. "May I have a brief word with you, Elizabeth? Outside, if I may?" He gestured to the front porch connected to the ballroom.
"Of course, Captain."
I eyed them as they walked away, specifically the Captain. I noticed the way he looked at her, the way he laughed when she said something. I noticed the light color in his cheeks, as well as the difference to his posture. I noticed the familiarity of it all. And suddenly, it smacked me right in the face:
He was in love with her.
Captain Norrington was in love with Elizabeth. It could be seen just in the way he glanced at her, or the expression on his face when he spoke to her. It was familiar to me because I was feeling those things as well, feeling what the Captain was feeling just at this very moment. I wondered if his skin tingled when he touched her, if he wanted to fall to the ground and end his life when he saw me dancing with her, and how many other men on this world were in love with Elizabeth Swann. How many hearts she had caught.
Who would be the one to catch her heart?
If to choose between a blacksmith and Captain of the British navy, it hardly seemed a worthy decision. After all, Captain Norrington was very well off, and although he greatly surpassed her in age, he was not ugly, so to speak. I knew there was a good chance of his money and power increasing over time, as it appeared currently that he may get promoted to Commodore someday. If Elizabeth were forced to choose between the two of us, it was doubtless she would choose the Captain.
A few minutes later, she returned, looking rather flushed. She looked around uneasily.
"Are you all right?" I asked instinctively.
"Oh! Oh, yes, quite. Come," she said. "Walk with me."
We began to walk through her front garden, away from her ball.
"Are you sure?" I asked her as we left toward the porch. "After all, I'm sure there will be many people looking to dance with you."
"It's all right," she said. "I don't particulary want to dance with any of them."
I did not know what to say to her.
"Do you remember how we met?" she asked suddenly.
"Of course," I said. How could I forget?
"You were so funny then, you wouldn't talk to me about anything at all. So closed off..." Her voice trailed off. "Come to think of it, you still never told me anything."
I laughed lightly, trying to brush it off. "I was small."
"You were. So was I. But still... You can tell me now, Will, if you want." The look in her eyes was the softest.
I reponded in an equally soft tone. "Tell you about what?"
"About what happened," she said, and I turned away, unwilling to meet her eye.
She turned me around, touching my wrist. "About what happened to you."
"Nothing happened."
"Will, you said that all the time we've known each other, but I know it's not the truth and you know it, too." She studied my face for a moment. "You haven't told anyone, have you? Not even Ms. Smith."
I shook my head.
"Does she know anything about before you came to Port Royal?"
"Elizabeth, I'm not quite sure you understand," I said.
"Understand what? You've told me nothing, I understand that much."
"Not that!" I said, letting my voice rise ever so slightly, something I'd never done with her even in my dreams. "Not that. It's just the fact that if I were to tell anyone, they might..."
"Sympathize?"
"I don't need anyone's pity!"
"It's not pity, Will!" Her voice was raised far above my quiet tone now, and I was glad we were far away from the Swann Mansion. "It's comprehension and acceptance! There's a difference! Why can't you just open up to someone?" She shook her head, giving me this extremely confused look. "I thought you might..." She turned around, and began to walk away.
"Wait!" I called, knowing the last thing I wanted was for her to go.
She spun back around. "Yes?"
"I'll tell you," I said softly. "Fine, you're right. I didn't tell anyone. I'll tell you."
She stood close to me once more, so close I could hear her breathe, and I felt the earth drop.
"I was born in England," I said, staring at the space just above her shoulder. "Born in England in a part of London most people don't know about. I lived in the slums, and was raised solely by my mother." I paused, remembering my mother's last words to me.
"Where was your father?"
"He was a merchant my mother met when she was here, actually," I said. "His name was William as well. He took my mother on a two month trip on his boat, where they conceived me, and then left her in England. He left the country, chased out by pirates, and my mother found a job as a prostitute in a brothel right in the slums of England."
I heard her give a barely audible gasp.
"I needn't continue if you don't want me to," I said, knowing the shock she was experiencing.
"No," she said. "No, continue."
I took a deep breath. "So I was raised without a father in this whorehouse, more or less, until I was about seven years old. One night before my birthday, I heard this talk about a pirate invasion, and on the morning of my birthday I even saw the ship but thought nothing of it. That night after I came home from playing with the neighborhood boys, I came home to my apartment and saw a man sneaking out of the back. I knew he was a pirate, just by the looks of him. Anyway, I came inside to find my mother, brutally murdered. There was blood everywhere..." I choked. "So I accidentally dropped my candle and ran out, burning the building down completely."
"Oh, my," she said.
I looked up at her.
"Please keep going, Will," she pleaded, although I could tell she knew it was difficult for me.
"I lived off the streets for a while, until I ran into a man who wanted me to come aboard his ship and wash decks and such. He called me Will, I called him Captain Sir, and he taught me all there was to being a man. When I was nine years old, pirates attacked the ship, sinking it. Captain Sir was apparently a very faithful captain, for he did go down with his ship. I was the last to see his body."
"Lord..."
"Then your father's ship found me, and I imagine you know the story from there on."
But before I could say another word, or wait for her response, she threw her arms around me, holding me tighter than I'd ever been held in my life. I was terribly surprised, and yet the feel of her body against mine was so good...
"Elizabeth?" I whispered, gingerly placing my arms around her waist.
"I'm sorry, Will," she said into my shoulder, and I noticed for the first time that she was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, it's terrible, this world is terrible, everything is just..."
I lifted her face to look at me.
"Terrible," she finished weakly.
Her face was tear-streaked and still beautiful, and I understood immediately the reason for her tears. I held her close to me again, trying not to feel so good about it, attempting to reduce the high level she was bringing me to.
I leaned down and whispered in her ear softly, "Your mother would have loved to be here today."
She held me even tighter, and began to sob. I stroked her hair gently, waiting for when she was ready to pull away.
When she finally pulled her head back, she said to me, "I... I..."
I shook my head. "It's all right."
"But I was the one who asked you to-"
"Really, Elizabeth, it was more than my pleasure."
She was still in the same place as before, only now she was looking up at me with a strange look I had never seen before on her face. I pulled her in to the same proximity we had been only seconds before, and dared to reach out and stroke her face.
"My angel," I muttered, before I could stop myself.
Our faces were moving closer and closer together; I could feel her breath on my face, and suddenly her lips met mine. The universe came to a cascading halt, moving at the pace of our choice as I gently parted her lips. There was nothing and everything and something, and perhaps a little of it all. I felt a rush and a swell within me, I was floating far away, drifting into the world of her. All I could think of was My Angel and this, the moment that changed my life forever. I wanted her so badly, I needed her desperately, and had been waiting so long. I no longer remembered any control I once had, any reasoning to disprove the theory that we should stay like this forever.
It was after a long time that we pulled apart, and she said my name as though it burned.
"Shhh," I said. "Elizabeth, I lov-"
"Wait, Will, please," she said, sounding desperate. "Don't say anything."
I asked the question with my eyes. Why not?
She touched my face gently, letting her hand rest there. "I-It's the Captain. He's just told me that he fancies me, and that my father would greatly approve of the match."
Suddenly, I became quite incapable of breathing.
*********************************************
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The visits continued through until I was twelve, when she and I both became very aware of certain changes and differences.
During that period of time, however, I learned plenty about Ms. Swann. She was a tomboy, of sorts, when she was young, and for every tree that I climbed and every rope that I swung off of, she could climb higher than I and swing farther than I. She amazed me; she was so vibrant and full of life that she beamed with every smile she gave. She was always forced to wear dresses, then would take me out into her yard and we would climb the trees and through bushes, and she would virtually ruin the dress. It got to the point where Ms. Smith stopped forcing me to wear my good clothes and allowed me to go to the Swann mansion without changing. Ms. Swann would teach me how to play the piano, until we both tired of it and moved on. We were playmates as we were meant to be; there was no deep sustainance to our relationship. It was plain and simple, nothing complicated about it.
Well, perhaps it seemed that way to the world.
What I'm trying to say is that although our relation was that of the simplest friends, I often found myself complicating things in my head. I would suddenly pause from our chasing game and just watch her run about the yard, and the word that came to my mind were that of when I first saw her: angel. Somehow, when I just paused to look at her, she made my heart beat faster, and made me feel as though I understood anything and everything. Hence, I christened her The Angel, My Angel, although the nickname was confined only to my thoughts. She was beautiful, beautiful like an angel, and everything about her was angelic. From the way she walked, to the way she flushed when she ran, to simply the way the turned her head to the right when she was concerned about something.
When my twelfth year began its seventh month, I suddenly began to shoot up in height. I put on weight, and lost weight, gaining and losing in different areas. My voice at first began to squeak (rather embarrassingly, actually), but eventually evened out to a tone much lower than its original pitch. These were the first of many changes on my behalf.
She was growing too, in more ways than one, many of which are improper to state on paper. But I began to notice that she was taller, and she was beginning to look like a woman, both in figure and in face. There were no longer any traces of baby teeth lost, and she began to take her piano responsibilities much more seriously. And she slowly stopped finding a need to go outside and swing through branches, or go swimming in the ocean. She sang like the Angel she was, and...
Well, to put it in short, as I am incapable of finding the right words, we matured.
It was a silent settlement between the two of us that I needn't come around to "play" with her anymore. Of course, I did on occassion, simply to be polite and make sure it was what she wanted. But those visits would only last an hour at most, and seemed terribly uncomfortable, as though there was some force hanging above us. It was nothing to do with us as people; I imagine we would normally enjoy one another's company quite well. It was merely the age and time that set us apart. At our age, during that time, boys and girls did not normally associate with one another unless in a romantic sense, so us being friends was far out of the question.
Of course, I couldn't help but wonder if we could get romantically involved.
It was the slightest of a thought. I brushed it away rather quickly, telling myself it was a misconception of feelings. I was simply missing my childhood playmate, and it was time for me to grow up and focus on my blacksmithing duties. I now could return to my daily chores at Mr. Gruber's, and having been genuinely interested (and done a great deal of separate studying on my own), I knew very much about the art of swordsmanship. I was thirteen when I threw myself head first into the work of a blacksmith. Mr. Gruber was getting old, but he taught me what he could, and I quickly mastered everything. It was not long before I could make a very complicated sword with the simplest of directions.
Every now and then, however, I would pause to wonder.
I still believed that my father was somewhere out there on the island of Tortuga, waiting for me. I had learned much about the island since my arrival, that it was a place of rum and scandalous women, and assured myself that my father had no other business there than to wait for me. Or perhaps his merchant boat had sunk and he had lost all his fortune, forcing him to live a life of poverty on that pathetic isle.
I also wondered what my life would be like had my mother not died. I would possibly still be in England, living with her, and I would also be uneducated and without a job. I would never have known Ms. Smith, nor My Angel. This made me feel strange, almost as though I had to choose between the two: my mother or Ms. Swann. I assumed that I must forge on with what I was given, and I had been given Ms. Swann.
It was somewhere during this time period that my master Mr. Gruber discovered the wonders of alcohol. He began to spend more time at the pub than at his own shop, bringing bottles back with him. When he was around, he was either drunk or asleep, mostly asleep. This left all the work to me. I was the one making all the swords, taking the opportunity as a chance to show my real talent. All of those who ordered the swords saw them as such high quality, they could hardly believe they were made by Gruber himself. "Fine work, he's been doing lately, that Gruber." I heard these comments as they left the store, never bothering to say a word about the apprentice. The situation seemed terribly ironic to me.
I often became fed up with doing all the work and receiving none of the credit whatsoever, and sought the advice of Ms. Smith.
"You've got to do what you think is right," she told me. "Do you believe it's right to deprive all the people in Port Royal of their swords, and let them know that Mr. Gruber is a drunk?"
"Well, I think they should know the truth," I said.
"So you're going to tell them the truth that Mr. Gruber is a drunk," she said approvingly. "Then what'll happen? I imagine that Mr. Gruber would lose any trace of a reputation he ever had, and no one will ever buy anything from him again. And what would all this bad outcome be for? Oh, yes. So that Will Turner could get some credit."
I sighed. "Must you be so blunt?"
"It's my job," she said, smiling. "Now, what are you going to do?"
"Keep working," I muttered.
"There we go."
Hence I kept my position as the apprentice, while actually performing the duties of the blacksmith himself. Meanwhile, I suppose there was some teenager energy pressed up within me (perhaps it was hormones), but I often felt different emotions. There was never any woman in my life, and though I often thought of My Angel, my romantic interests were still practically nonexistent. I gave this energy and the anger for the loss of my father, mother, and Captain Sir into swordmaking and, eventually, sword fighting.
See, I had promised myself years back that I would avenge the losses in my life, all caused by pirates. Surrounded by weapons constantly, I had the opportunity to practice with any sword at my will. I taught myself how to fight using a sword, and it seemed to come fairly naturally to me. With every violent stroke I pushed, I thought of the death of my mother, the last image of Captain Sir, or how I had never seen my father. This motivation allowed me to push harder on the next stroke, and the next, and the next, and so forth. After all, I had no other occupations to keep me busy. As I stated earlier, my romantic life was literally nonexistent, and school was far since over. I did not drink any sort of alcohol after viewing Mr. Gruber's problem first-hand, and the though the townspeople were friendly, they were hardly what I would call friends.
My Angel was the only friend I ever had.
She was growing into a beautiful young lady as the years went by. She was taller and more sophisticated, her hair grown long and soft. I longed to touch that hair now, it was curled in some places and straight in others. Now when I saw her passing on the street, she would give a smile and a wave, and I would wave shortly in return. Yet my breath would still catch in my throat the way it did since I was eleven, and I wanted to run up to her and touch her or... or something. But I could never do that, this I knew. It was a simple impraticality and a fact of life. She was The Angel and I was the peasant. The Angel never found the peasant to be appealing, except for when she gave him alms or some such thing. The Angel most often found the prince to be the appealing one.
Enter Captain Norrington.
It was apparent ever since her debut ball that he was as in love with her than I was.
And to make a long story short, by the time I had turned fifteen, I had faced the deafening conclusion that I was, indeed, in love with her. It was terrible; I cursed myself for having such feelings that were bound for disappointment. But it never went away.
Anyway, both were apparent ever since her debut ball: my being in love with her, as well as the Commodore. Let me explain properly.
It had been three years since I had stopped visiting her regularly, although her father made many a stop at Mr. Gruber's to place orders for his army. In fact, Governor Swann's orders were the orders I spent most time and care on. It was, however, one morning just before I was to turn sixteen that he came to me.
Mr. Gruber was asleep in a corner, hardly visible to anyone who was to walk in. I would give the same tale that I told whenver a man walked in: Mr. Gruber is out right now, may I be of any service?
The Governor walked in, not bothering to knock, and I looked up from hammering the metal on a sword I was working on; coincidentally, one of his.
"Hello, Will, my boy," he said, smiling slightly. "How are you doing?"
"Very well, sir, and you?" I had finally been able to use the name "sir" without choking on my tongue.
"Quite well, myself, thank you."
I held up the sword frame I was working on. "Coming along very nicely, sir."
"Thank you, Will. Where is Mr. Gruber?" He looked around.
"Oh," I said, eyes widening, moving to a corner to make Mr. Gruber virtually invisible. "He's not here right now. I imagine he went to pre- order some metal framing."
The Governor nodded. "Good, that's very good. I wanted to speak to you in private, actually."
I wrinkled my brow and gestured to the empty space. "We have all the privacy in the world, sir."
He smiled again and gingerly took a seat on a rickety bench. "You see, Will, my boy, I have a favor to ask of you."
"A favor, sir?"
"Yes, a favor. It concerns Elizabeth."
I forced myself against blushing, swallowing hard, needing some cold water. "Ms. Swann?"
"I don't know if you know about this, Will, but many girls of Elizabeth's age have a debut ball. A ceremony to represent a coming of age, almost. And, well, Elizabeth is just about the right age. She is having her ball in three days actually, did she tell you?"
"No, sir," I said, feeling some unknown emotion, and yet, it was strangely familiar. "Ms. Swann and I are merely friendly acquaintances now." Sadness.
I had never related that emotion to My Angel before, but suddenly, it was stabbing me in my heart. Over and over and over. We were simply acquaintances, nothing more, not even friends. Just two folks on the street who once upon a time knew one another well. I suddenly felt a need to throw up.
"I see," he said, shifting once more. "Will, Elizabeth needs a young escort for her debut, and on a normal occassion, I would ask Captain Norrington or one of the soldiers to accompany her, but she won't have it. She claims she wants someone of her age, and will not listen to my lectures on class or appearances." He sighed, wearily rubbing his brow. "So I have come to you as a last resort in order for her to attend the ball. Would you mind being Elizabeth's escort to the ball?"
He had been polite, not friendly, and certainly not nice. I was his last resort, I would always be his last resort. But there was no one in their right mind who would tell the Governor 'no'. There was also the tiny matter that the thought of accompanying My Angel anywhere was more than enough to spark my interest. "I would be delighted, sir."
He exhaled, apparently relieved. "Wonderful. If she's not pleased with you, then I don't know what to do. Very well, you shall need to get some new clothes, fancier than what you wear to church if you will, and perhaps some new shoes, as well," he said, eyeing my footwear. His list continued on and on for miles, and with each new item, my head got a little heavier.
"If you'll pardon my interruption, sir," I said. "But I'm not quite sure I can afford all these items."
He studied me for a moment before saying, "Not to worry. We will provide them to you if you will send me your measurements. Now, I must be going, there is plenty of business to attend to. I appreciate your willingness to help."
He shook my hand, and walked out of the shop.
For the first time since he entered, I breathed.
A few hours later, I found myself at home as Ms. Smith threw some rope around me to measure me at every angle.
"Going out with the Governor's daughter, eh?" she asked me.
I sighed. "She needs an escort to her debut ball."
"I see," she replied. She threw it over my shoulder. "Did she ask you?"
"No, Governor Swann came into the shop this afternoon."
"Ah, yes. Are you excited?"
"Depends on what you'd call excited," I muttered under my breath.
It appeared that she hadn't heard me however. "You should be excited. Real fancy ball, it's going to be. I hear the Queen herself is going to be there." bloodsugar ratings no changes more readings 2 ws
I stayed silent. I didn't care who else was there, really, I was only there to be with one person.
Suddenly, Ms. Smith spun me around to face her. She looked at me, saying, "Listen, Will, I don't mean to be harsh, but you must remember that you are just her escort. I'm not saying it's impossible, anything is possible, but just don't get your hopes up."
My eyes widened at how she could read me so well. I tried not to let my surprise show, however. "I know better than to get my hopes up. It's fair enough to say that life's taught me that much."
"I know you know," she said kindly. "I just need to make sure. One disappointment is one disappointment too many."
"May I go to bed now?" I asked. I didn't wait for her reply, just falling straight into bed.
****************************
Three days passed rather quickly. I busied myself with work at the shop, trying not to think about the upcoming event. I even had Ms. Smith teach me how to dance.
And yet My Angel would not leave my mind. I thought of her consistently, her beauty never wavering once in my head. I would not see her in the street, possibly due to her impending debut, and I began to miss our childhood friendship days more than ever. I began to think of how she looked the very first time I ever saw her; her hair had lightened from that deep brown to a honey color since then, and she was of course very different in other ways too.
The clothes I was measured for were sent to my home at Ms. Smith's on the day of My Angel's debut ball, along with a note saying I was to arrive at the Swann Mansion at precisely six o'clock. Surprisingly enough, I had no trouble putting on the clothes, and though the shoes were not what I was accustomed to, I assumed I would grow into them. Ms. Smith bade me farewell for the evening, reminding me of my manners and to be a gentleman, and why couldn't I have just shaved a different way today?
But she knew I always cut my facial hair the same way, and I always would.
I arrived in front of the Swann Mansion just before six, waiting a good ten minutes before knocking. I stood there nervously, fidgeting with the new, somewhat uncomfortable clothes, and thinking of My Angel. Finally, I rapped the brass knocker.
The maid Magdalene answered the door, dressed up fancier than usual. "Why, hello Mr. Turner," she said in her usual Cockney. "It's good to be seeing you again. Come inside." She held the door open, and I stood inside anxiously.
"Uhh..." I glanced around the front hall I had once been so accustomed to seeing daily.
"The Governor said you were to go upstairs. He wanted to speak with you." She pointed to the stairs. "In his private office."
I swallowed, eyes widening again. "Yes. Yes, then-then I'll be going there." I took my time climbing up every stair, wondering what the Governor wanted with me. I knocked on his mahogany door.
"Come in," he said.
I walked inside the room.
"Ah," he said, turning to face me. "Will, my boy. Good to see you. Thank you for coming tonight. The clothes fit well, I imagine?"
I was choking in the collar. "Perfectly."
"Excellent." He took a seat at his desk, and motioned for me to sit across from him. He poured himself a drink. "Ale, Will?"
"No thank you," I said, not very fond of alcohol at all, especially after seeing its effects on Mr. Gruber.
"There was a reason I called to speak to you, Will," he said. "I want you to know that this ball is very important to Elizabeth's future."
"Yes, sir. I understand completely."
"It decides many things about her life to come, for it is, as I said, a presenting ball."
"I see, sir."
"It may very well decide whom she marries."
Whom she marries? "I understand the weight of the situation, sir." I shut my eyes for just a moment, compressing any eruptions of emotion.
"That's very good news to my ears, Will, for I intend this night to truly be Elizabeth's presentation. You understand that, don't you? She will be dancing with you as well as others.... I presume you know the styles of dance we will be doing tonight?"
I certainly hoped so. "Of course, sir."
"Then it will all go as planned. You will escort Elizabeth down the stairs, and the ball will progress. You will catch on, don't worry."
"Where is Ms. Swann, sir?"
"I believe she is almost dressed. But you may wait outside her room door."
"Thank you sir."
I stood up and left Governor Swann's private office, making my way down the hall to My Angel's bedroom. I stood just outside the door, and could hear various noises coming from within. There were shrieks and screams, as well as some gasps. Altogether, it sounded quite... Sexual, if you'll excuse my vulgar terms. I, however, simply paced in the space in front of the door, trying to ignore the continual noise from the other side.
It continued until the doorknob turned, and out walked my Angel... crashing right into me.
"Will!" she exclaimed, stepping away.
"Ms. Swann!" I said, surprised. I looked at her. For the first time since I'd ever known her, her hair was piled atop her head, some few strands hanging down. She wore a yellow dress I'd never seen before, but (to the delight of my teenage mind) it highlighted everything. I took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "You- you look lovely," I nearly whispered.
"Thank you!" she said, smiling. "You look very nice yourself."
"Your father sent me the clothes," I replied, adding a grateful smile.
"You needn't thank us," she said. "Really, it's you I should be thanking. It was incredibly nice of you to come with me."
"It's my pleasure," I said, meaning every sound of it.
She leaned in a litte closer and said softly, "Father wanted me to go with Captain Norrington. But he's so old! I wanted to go with someone I could have fun with."
I offered her a smile.
Magdalene rushed up the stairs. "Miss! Miss, it's time for your big entrance! Are you ready?"
"Yes," Ms. Swann said. "Does everything look all right?"
"You look beautiful, Miss," Magdalene said.
"Why thank you, Maggie," she said. "Are you ready, Will?"
I nodded. "Yes, Ms. Swann."
I took her arm in mine, and we began to walk down the stairs leading to the ballroom of their mansion. I noticed that everything went quiet, and everyone in the room was watching us. I could see very few that I could recognize, only Governor Swann and Captain Norrington, whom I had never met. Yet I was only capable of concentrating on the feel of her hand in mine; it was so warm and soft, I wanted to hold it forever. Her hands were graceful and smooth, like a bird's wings. I took a deep breath, remembering Ms. Smith's words. I must stay in control of myself, I thought. It was far too easy to get carried away with her so close to me, and I knew not what I might do if I let myself slip even in the slightest. And, almost as quickly as we had begun, we reached the end of the stairwell.
Everyone in the room clapped loudly for some reason. She let go of my arm, leaving me cold and stiff, and curtsied. I took a step back as she did this, waiting for the music to resume its place. Then suddenly, Governor Swann took the center of the ballroom floor.
"Now, we begin the debutante's dance," he said.
My brow furrowed. Debutante's dance?
Ms. Swann was looking at me rather expectantly.
I gave her a confused look.
She mouthed: We're supposed to dance!
My eyes widened. What? No one had mentioned this to me. I would be forced to follow Ms. Swann's lead. She curtsied, and I did what Ms. Smith had taught me to do, I bowed. We began a traditional dance of England in the center of the room, while the others looked on.
I stepped towards her, taking her hand. As we turned, I whispered into her ear, "What are we doing?"
"We're dancing!" she hissed.
We stepped back twice, then once to the left, then once to the right. We walked towards one another again, and I took a light hold of her waist with my left hand, holding her hand with my right. I tried not to focus on the feel of her body brushing softly against mine, but instead said so that only she could hear, "Nobody told me about this!"
"What?" she asked, sounding surprised, but the smile kept on her face.
"Nobody told me we were supposed to dance with everyone watching right away!"
We began to turn the other direction, and I reversed my hold on her.
"Not even Father? That's strange." We continued to speak in an inaudible manner.
"I'm sorry I wasn't prepared," I managed before we stepped backwards again. I took three steps to my left, coming four to the right, then one to the front. I took her hand in mine again, and we made a slow, even turn.
"It's all right, just keep smiling," she said.
A few moments later, she said to me, "You're a very natural dancer. Whom did you learn from?"
It took me a moment to mutter and confess, "Ms. Smith." I smiled at her.
"Really? I never would have known, you're far better than some of these soldiers you know."
I blushed. She was so beautiful. I never wanted to let go of her hand, of her waist. I never wanted the dance to end, for it meant that, even if only for a brief moment, I could come into conact with her. Even when it was a simple brush of the hand, it made my skin tingle where hers had been. With every turn we made, the longing for her inside me became stronger, and I was forced to remind myself of my place and the fact that all my fantasies could never come true.
And all too soon, the orchestra stopped playing their song. I bowed, My Angel curtsied. We walked away from the crowd as the orchestra struck up another tune, and many couples resumed dancing.
"What now?" I asked her.
"Well, we can dance again whenever you like," she said. "And I suppose you're free to dance with others-"
"As are you," I interjected somewhat rudely.
She smiled. "As am I. But we are expected to be together the rest of the time. You are, after all, my escort."
I gave her another small smile as we found a place to stand, somewhere towards a corner. There were a few moments of unearthly silence.
"We are allowed to talk, you know," she said, smiling.
"A-all right, Ms. Swann." Why must I stutter?
She suddenly turned to face me. "Will Turner, how long have we known one another, and yet you still call me Ms. Swann?"
"I... I suppose it would be the proper thing to do."
"Proper?" she asked, and through the glint in her eye I could see my childhood friend again. "No, the only thing I think is proper is for you to call me Elizabeth from now on. All right?"
Elizabeth? Call My Angel by her first name? I wanted to tell her no, for I knew this was the first step to unraveling my binding ropes, the ropes that kept me controlled when I was near her. "All right, Elizabeth."
"Thank you."
"So," she said after a few moments. "How have you been doing lately?"
"Well, actually," I said. "I've been rather well."
"Father tells me you've been taking your apprenticeship very seriously."
"Oh, yes," I lied. "Very seriously." More like taking my blacksmith duties seriously, but I could never tell her that. "I plan on maybe opening a shop of my own someday... What about you?"
"Oh, I'm doing fine," she said, looking strangely uncomfortable. "I've been practicing walking with books on my head, for posture, and I still ride horses, but-"
Suddenly, a soldier of about thirty five years or so walked up to My Angel, and asked her for a dance.
She looked at me, almost as though to make sure it was all right.
Don't do that, I thought, but let her know it was all right just by the expression on my face.
She walked away with him, and I turned my head. I knew I would not be able to stand watching it. Certainly not after I had danced with her. Now that I knew what it was like to dance with her, there was a part of my mind that thought I should be the only one to dance with her, to hold her hand. I still wanted her so much; she was so beautiful in every aspect. I knew this night would be etched in stone in my mind forever.
Eventually, my head forced itself around to look, and it was though my blood began to boil in a way I never knew it could. I could see that old man touching her, putting his hands on her, and though she did not appear to be smiling, she was not protesting either. I had the urge to run up to him, remove him from her, something. Anything to stop me from feeling the way I was feeling. I could feel myself dropping to the ground, losing myself. I wanted to scream and yell, let the tremor inside me loose.
And then, as soon as I had shut my eyes, I felt her slender finger tap me on the shoulder.
I spun around instantly, no longer needing to force a smile when I saw her face. "Hello."
"Hello," she said, laughing slightly.
"Did you have fun?" I asked, gesturing to the soldier, in attempt to be polite.
"I suppose," she replied, sounding uneasy once more. "You're a far better dancer than he was, though," she whispered.
"Thank you," I told her. I paused awkardly before saying, "You were telling me exactly how you were doing, before he-"
"Oh, yes," she said. "I still ride horses, and I'm walking with books on my head, but..."
"But?" I dared to take a step closer to her.
She looked up at me. "But sometimes I still feel terribly lonely."
I gave her a sharp glance reflexively.
She continued. "I miss you, Will. I miss you terribly."
I surprised myself by saying, "I miss you, too, Elizabeth."
We were simply inches away from one another, just one staring intently at the other. I looked into her beautiful brown eyes, turned to the color of earth over the years. Her structured nose and perfectly aligned teeth; I felt so unworthy standing next to someone of her calibur. But I merely stood and stared, her doing the same, for Lord knew how long, until we were interrupted once more.
"Elizabeth," a deep voice said.
She spun around, holding her gaze on me for as long as she could. "Captain Norrington."
"And Mr. Turner," the Captain said, nodding briefly in my direction. "May I have a brief word with you, Elizabeth? Outside, if I may?" He gestured to the front porch connected to the ballroom.
"Of course, Captain."
I eyed them as they walked away, specifically the Captain. I noticed the way he looked at her, the way he laughed when she said something. I noticed the light color in his cheeks, as well as the difference to his posture. I noticed the familiarity of it all. And suddenly, it smacked me right in the face:
He was in love with her.
Captain Norrington was in love with Elizabeth. It could be seen just in the way he glanced at her, or the expression on his face when he spoke to her. It was familiar to me because I was feeling those things as well, feeling what the Captain was feeling just at this very moment. I wondered if his skin tingled when he touched her, if he wanted to fall to the ground and end his life when he saw me dancing with her, and how many other men on this world were in love with Elizabeth Swann. How many hearts she had caught.
Who would be the one to catch her heart?
If to choose between a blacksmith and Captain of the British navy, it hardly seemed a worthy decision. After all, Captain Norrington was very well off, and although he greatly surpassed her in age, he was not ugly, so to speak. I knew there was a good chance of his money and power increasing over time, as it appeared currently that he may get promoted to Commodore someday. If Elizabeth were forced to choose between the two of us, it was doubtless she would choose the Captain.
A few minutes later, she returned, looking rather flushed. She looked around uneasily.
"Are you all right?" I asked instinctively.
"Oh! Oh, yes, quite. Come," she said. "Walk with me."
We began to walk through her front garden, away from her ball.
"Are you sure?" I asked her as we left toward the porch. "After all, I'm sure there will be many people looking to dance with you."
"It's all right," she said. "I don't particulary want to dance with any of them."
I did not know what to say to her.
"Do you remember how we met?" she asked suddenly.
"Of course," I said. How could I forget?
"You were so funny then, you wouldn't talk to me about anything at all. So closed off..." Her voice trailed off. "Come to think of it, you still never told me anything."
I laughed lightly, trying to brush it off. "I was small."
"You were. So was I. But still... You can tell me now, Will, if you want." The look in her eyes was the softest.
I reponded in an equally soft tone. "Tell you about what?"
"About what happened," she said, and I turned away, unwilling to meet her eye.
She turned me around, touching my wrist. "About what happened to you."
"Nothing happened."
"Will, you said that all the time we've known each other, but I know it's not the truth and you know it, too." She studied my face for a moment. "You haven't told anyone, have you? Not even Ms. Smith."
I shook my head.
"Does she know anything about before you came to Port Royal?"
"Elizabeth, I'm not quite sure you understand," I said.
"Understand what? You've told me nothing, I understand that much."
"Not that!" I said, letting my voice rise ever so slightly, something I'd never done with her even in my dreams. "Not that. It's just the fact that if I were to tell anyone, they might..."
"Sympathize?"
"I don't need anyone's pity!"
"It's not pity, Will!" Her voice was raised far above my quiet tone now, and I was glad we were far away from the Swann Mansion. "It's comprehension and acceptance! There's a difference! Why can't you just open up to someone?" She shook her head, giving me this extremely confused look. "I thought you might..." She turned around, and began to walk away.
"Wait!" I called, knowing the last thing I wanted was for her to go.
She spun back around. "Yes?"
"I'll tell you," I said softly. "Fine, you're right. I didn't tell anyone. I'll tell you."
She stood close to me once more, so close I could hear her breathe, and I felt the earth drop.
"I was born in England," I said, staring at the space just above her shoulder. "Born in England in a part of London most people don't know about. I lived in the slums, and was raised solely by my mother." I paused, remembering my mother's last words to me.
"Where was your father?"
"He was a merchant my mother met when she was here, actually," I said. "His name was William as well. He took my mother on a two month trip on his boat, where they conceived me, and then left her in England. He left the country, chased out by pirates, and my mother found a job as a prostitute in a brothel right in the slums of England."
I heard her give a barely audible gasp.
"I needn't continue if you don't want me to," I said, knowing the shock she was experiencing.
"No," she said. "No, continue."
I took a deep breath. "So I was raised without a father in this whorehouse, more or less, until I was about seven years old. One night before my birthday, I heard this talk about a pirate invasion, and on the morning of my birthday I even saw the ship but thought nothing of it. That night after I came home from playing with the neighborhood boys, I came home to my apartment and saw a man sneaking out of the back. I knew he was a pirate, just by the looks of him. Anyway, I came inside to find my mother, brutally murdered. There was blood everywhere..." I choked. "So I accidentally dropped my candle and ran out, burning the building down completely."
"Oh, my," she said.
I looked up at her.
"Please keep going, Will," she pleaded, although I could tell she knew it was difficult for me.
"I lived off the streets for a while, until I ran into a man who wanted me to come aboard his ship and wash decks and such. He called me Will, I called him Captain Sir, and he taught me all there was to being a man. When I was nine years old, pirates attacked the ship, sinking it. Captain Sir was apparently a very faithful captain, for he did go down with his ship. I was the last to see his body."
"Lord..."
"Then your father's ship found me, and I imagine you know the story from there on."
But before I could say another word, or wait for her response, she threw her arms around me, holding me tighter than I'd ever been held in my life. I was terribly surprised, and yet the feel of her body against mine was so good...
"Elizabeth?" I whispered, gingerly placing my arms around her waist.
"I'm sorry, Will," she said into my shoulder, and I noticed for the first time that she was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, it's terrible, this world is terrible, everything is just..."
I lifted her face to look at me.
"Terrible," she finished weakly.
Her face was tear-streaked and still beautiful, and I understood immediately the reason for her tears. I held her close to me again, trying not to feel so good about it, attempting to reduce the high level she was bringing me to.
I leaned down and whispered in her ear softly, "Your mother would have loved to be here today."
She held me even tighter, and began to sob. I stroked her hair gently, waiting for when she was ready to pull away.
When she finally pulled her head back, she said to me, "I... I..."
I shook my head. "It's all right."
"But I was the one who asked you to-"
"Really, Elizabeth, it was more than my pleasure."
She was still in the same place as before, only now she was looking up at me with a strange look I had never seen before on her face. I pulled her in to the same proximity we had been only seconds before, and dared to reach out and stroke her face.
"My angel," I muttered, before I could stop myself.
Our faces were moving closer and closer together; I could feel her breath on my face, and suddenly her lips met mine. The universe came to a cascading halt, moving at the pace of our choice as I gently parted her lips. There was nothing and everything and something, and perhaps a little of it all. I felt a rush and a swell within me, I was floating far away, drifting into the world of her. All I could think of was My Angel and this, the moment that changed my life forever. I wanted her so badly, I needed her desperately, and had been waiting so long. I no longer remembered any control I once had, any reasoning to disprove the theory that we should stay like this forever.
It was after a long time that we pulled apart, and she said my name as though it burned.
"Shhh," I said. "Elizabeth, I lov-"
"Wait, Will, please," she said, sounding desperate. "Don't say anything."
I asked the question with my eyes. Why not?
She touched my face gently, letting her hand rest there. "I-It's the Captain. He's just told me that he fancies me, and that my father would greatly approve of the match."
Suddenly, I became quite incapable of breathing.
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