Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I woke up late in the morning, utterly and completely miserable. I sat in bed until I couldn't stand laying down anymore, and then I got up and changed quickly into a plain dress and tied by hair back with a ribbon, after hastily brushing it. I had absolutely no idea what I would be doing today, actually, I don't think there was really anything for me to do. I couldn't look forward to going out with Will, because I wouldn't be seeing him for a week, no thanks to my sister. So I walked downstairs and decided to forgo breakfast, which really would be lunch, because I didn't want to deal with the infuriating presence of my family.

I walked out into the garden and sat by the fountain that Will and I had been sitting by yesterday. Yesterday was both the best and worst day of my life, for obvious reasons. My relationship with him was finally progressing past that retarded flustered silence stage. We were actually having fun. And, perhaps the best thing about it, kissing was becoming less and less awkward, and more enjoyable. In fact, it's a thing that I wouldn't mind doing more often.

But anyway I sat alone in the garden, dipping my hands into the water and thinking of absolutely nothing. Except that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I killed my sister. I'm allowed one mortal sin a lifetime, right? I sighed, no, that would make my father angry and I'd be thrown in jail. Although I didn't particularly care what my father thought at the moment, and jail wouldn't be very different from here considering I would not be allowed to go out and see Will. But prison smells bad. The garden was considerably better.

I got up and walked around the garden, hoping that something would distract me for oh, say, about a week. No such luck. The sky was a boring Caribbean blue, the flowers were their usual array of pretty colors and petals, the bees and hornets and wasps and what not were buzzing around annoyingly and if one of them buzzed into my hair like it did last year, I'd be sure to have a heart attack. That would at least solve Elizabeth's problems.

And, hey, the wasps were roughly the size of tea cups so my fear is understandable.

Even if I didn't go see Will, I wanted to go outside. There is nothing I despise more than being kept in. I hate it. I hate walls and I hate cages. Maybe I was happiest on the ship with Jack. There were no walls, just open air and open sea. Of course, the bleeding sun was a little uncomfortable, and I may never be able to wear powder again because my skin will never return to the olive it was - I'll be permanently brown, and that may end up giving me that weathered leathery look but does it really matter on a ship? Anamaria tanned gracefully, she's that brown butter color. Its not fair. I cant be that island princess, and I cant be the Princess of Port Royal, like sweet little Elizabeth. I'm stuck somewhere in the middle.

I groaned aloud, all this solitude was making me depressed. I decided that being alone in the garden was definitely not what I needed. I walked up the stairs inside the house, which was surprisingly cool for a hot Caribbean day. I touched the stone wall appreciatively with my forehead, and sighed. Pressing a hand to the back of my neck I could tell that I would be sun burned.

"Just lovely," I muttered, heading into the kitchen where Anita was working furiously as she and the other cooks prepared for dinner. "Are we having some sort of feast tonight, Anita? There's enough food here to feed an army!" I said, looking around, amazed. There were at least a dozen loaves of bread, a large about of assorted wines, cheeses, fruits, and a whole stuffed pig roasting on a spit. The sight made me slightly queasy. I was never one for greasy animals being rotated around over a fire. Especially when it had little olives stuffed into its eyes. Why we ate things like this, I'll never know.

"Didn't your father tell you, Miss? The Commodore and some of his best men are coming to dine tonight. Your father wanted to hold a feast in their honor, for the safe return of your sister. Awful, what happened to her, it is," Anita said pointedly. I wrinkled my nose.

"Yeah. Real bloody awful, that she would too damn stupid to hide in a place where it wasn't obvious. If he's holding a feast in anybody's honor it should have been Captain Jack Sparrow, and Will, not the sodding Commodore and his goons," I snapped. Anita looked at me with wide eyes, as if she'd never heard such words coming from a lady's mouth before. Ha, a day with me and she'd probably keel over.

I sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a bad mood today," I told her, looking around the kitchen again. Ever since she was caught carrying out my plan for sabotage, she'd turned into the right proper little cook, and was very cautious around me. I smiled, an idea dawning on me. "Say, I've got nothing to do and if I come into contact with my sister I may have to finish what Barbossa started - do you think you could show me a bit of your art of cooking? After all, if I am to be a wife, I should know at least a little of such things,"

Anita looked up sharply. "Oh, we couldn't, Miss Swann, we'd get into so much trouble. I doubt you're even supposed to be down here, let alone cooking. You'll get a stain on your dress, and you should be preparing to welcome the guests -"

"My sister can to all the ruddy introductions, I carevery little-"

"You mustn't talk like that, Miss Swann. What would your father say?" Anita interrupted me nervously, looking around and lowering her voice.

I smiled grimly, "I care even less for what my father has to say about my conduct. He's the reason that I'm here anyway. I'm prohibited from leaving the house," I said bitterly. Anita sighed.

"Even so, Miss, you must go to your room, there are only a few hours left until the dinner party, and you're still all sweaty and in your plain clothes. And your hair, it's a mess -"

"Hush, child, if the girl would like to learn how to cook, then she bloody well can. And ye should know that yer are not to chastise the mistress of the house about her looks or her conduct," the older cook said, smiling indulgently at me. She had dark hair streaked with white, giving her a look as if she could be anywhere from thirty five to fifty five. Her dark face was wrinkled, most of them located around her eyes. She was big boned and heavy, her large hands working easily at peeing potatoes and adding them to a soup or stew or what not. Anita chewed her lip nervously and muttered an apology to me, going quickly back to work.

"No need to apologize, Anita. And I'm hardly the mistress of the house, if I'm not even allowed to leave," I said, taking a liking to the old woman almost immediately. She nodded, "Yes, but yer mum is gone and yer the oldest daughter. Yer father hasn't taken another wife. That leaves ye with the chief inheritance and the job as mistress of the household," she said and took my hand, pulling me over to her before I could point out that I'm only a minute and a halfolder than my sister and would most likely to be disowned in the near future.

"What is it ye'd like to learn, dearie?" she asked. I looked around helplessly.

"Anything! I don't know anything at all, I'm afraid. I wouldn't make a very good wife," I said. She grinned at me, her teeth were big and crooked and there were a good few missing, but they suited her. I watched as the wrinkles by her eyes darkened and deepened. I felt myself wishing that in however many years, I looked like that too. There was a certain sturdy elegance about this woman and none of the frailty of old age. There wereso many years portrayed on her face andthe happiest ones always the easiest to see. Her eyes were dancing mischievously like they were full of so many stories and I found myself longing to know what it was she knew.

She handed me a potato and a bade me peel. I took the knife awkwardly from her hand and sliced at the vegetable. Huge chunks of white potato went flying, littering the floor. I bit my lip and tried to position the knife so I wouldn't make quite so much of a mess, to no avail. Before I knew it, I had cut myself.

I yelped in surprise, and the lady turned to me quickly. "Oh, dearie, what did ye do? Give me yer hand," she said, and I did, holding my cut fingers up like a little girl. She took a cloth from beside the pile of already perfectly skinned potatoes, and tied it around my hand tightly.

"I'm afraid I shan't be able to do anything of any value, when I'm married," I said sadly, not knowing why I was so upset over a ruined potato and a little cut. She clucked her tongue at me, "Don't be silly, lovie, its yer first time. Ye've lived a sheltered life, with yer pretty dresses and perfumes - yes you, even with yer sister taking up all the space in the room, and Mr. Turner's affections at her disposal for the better of a rough decade. Don't look so shocked, dearie, just because ye've never seen me before, the servant folk know a lot more than what they let on. Now let me tell ye that the most ye've seen of the world ye've seen in the past few weeks. Ye still got a lot to learn. Cut away from yerself next time, and ye wont get hurt," she said, giving me an odd look and handing me a fresh potato. I stared at her for a moment, not knowing how all of that finally led up to 'cut away from yourself next time', but shrugged and took her advice, slowly skinning the potato. It was jagged and a good deal of the actual potato was gone, but at least I hadn't mortally wounded myself this time.

I peeled a few more in silence, listening to the scuffle of the kitchen and the slurred words of the cooks, in a language that sounded familiar but I'd never spoken before. I smiled, listening to it. It was fast and each sentence practically bit the other off, but it sounded fluid. I wished I could make all the sounds.

The old woman took the potato out of my hands and the knife. "It's late, ye really should be gettin' upstairs," she said. "Now, dearie," she said when I didn't respond. That fact was the I didn't know how she could tell that it was late. There were no windows in the hot little kitchen, or if there were they were covered up. But I turned and walked up the stairs, going to my room and stripping out of my gown, sinking down into the blessedly cool water of the tub. Mary had obviously filled it hours ago, but I was grateful for the cold water and the emptiness of the room. I splashed around a bit, ducking my head under the water and staying under for as long as I possibly could without passing out. I was really not in the mood for the Commodore to come in all his snotty jeers and mocking ways, and I really did not need to see the Royal Navy boys parading around as if they were heroes. I guess they were in their own right, but I didn't want to deal with them either way. I'd much rather stay in my room and read.

However, my father would seek to commence his role as Dictator of the World, or rather, continue it, and force me to wear my best dress and put a ribbon in my hair and make myself presentable for our acclaimed Commodore and his loyal mutts that ran around yelping at his feet.

I groaned and got up; the water stung the cut on my hand, and myfingers weresore from holding the knife. With a disgusted sigh, I realize how correct the cook was in telling me what a pampered life I led. I wrapped myself in my robe and stepped our from behind the screen that surrounded the bathtub and nearly screamed when I saw a dark figure in the corner.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here!" I hissed, glaring at her. She was already dressed, her hair done, it was incredibly puffy and it made her forehead looked even larger, if that was possible. Her corset was pulled tighter than usual and she looked like she was going to pass out once again. Eleanor must have layered five tons of powder on her face, she was so white she practically glowed. Like a porcelain doll-I was always afraid of those things. Her lips were painted with something, else she had eaten a good deal of strawberries before coming in. I felt like a drowned rat next to her.

"I wanted to make sure that you were getting ready," she said, in a voice that was less than her usually sniveling idiot tone. I looked at her, incredulous. "Well, you came, you saw, and you conquered. Again. Have a care and leave before I throw something at you again, you must know that you are not my favorite person in the world right now. Send in Mary, tell her I need to speak with her," I said flatly, going over to the closet and picking out a dark dress, the plainest one I could find.

"What about?" my sister asked innocently. I snarled, jerking a comb through my tangled hair. It was so dark that I looked pale against it, and I am definitely not pale. I tilted my head up and could see the sunburn on my neck and shoulders.

I sighed angrily, "About the best way to kill someone and not get caught, dearie. Now do make yourself scarce."

She sneered at me, "You don't scare me. If you wanted to know, I came in here to apologize," she snapped, heading to the door.

"Oh, that's awfully sweet of you, Lizzy. I completely accept your apology, most graciously," I said in a falsetto voice. "Now leave so I can get ready," I snapped. She hurried out silently and a few minutes later, Mary walked in.

"What a state you're in, Christina," she said cheerfully, pulling the laces on my corset tight as I held my arms out to my side and took my final deep breath that I'd have that night.

"Thank you, Mary. That was exactly what I wanted to hear," I said sourly, letting her help me into my dress.

"Why did you pick this dress, Christina? Its so plain. The Commodore is here. Don't you want to make yourself presentable?"

I looked at her calmly, "Do you honestly want me to answer that question, Mary?" I asked. She glared at me.

"Fine. Look like a common woman instead of the Governor's daughter," she said, buttoning up the back of my dress.

"When have I looked like anything else?" I griped, picking up the powder case and poking at it venomously. I hated the stuff. She grabbed it from me and powdered my face, hissing angrily.

"Look at what you've done!. Got yourself all burned. Are you trying to make yourself look like a heathen?" she snapped, powdering my neck and shoulders as well.

I batted her hands away, "Its itchy, don't do that!" I yelped. She gave me an exasperated look and combed gently through my hair.

"Just because you wont be seeing Will for a week does not mean that you get make a hermit of yourself," she said mildly, braiding my hair up off my neck and showcasing my sunburn.

"I think I have every right to be a hermit, and do you want me too look like a bloody lobster! Look at this, I'm certainly as red as one!" I complained, twirling the hair she had left loose around my finger. She pushed my hand away and curled the strand around a piece of cloth, leaving it there to dry and walking around the room to find jewelry for me. She strung the black pearls that around my neck - I wear them everyday - and pinned a dark brooch to highlight my chest.

"Mary, need I remind you that I am engaged?" I said, staring at her, stupefied. She grinned and me and pulled the cloth from my hair, a bouncy curl hanging over my right shoulder.

"You're notmarried yet," she said simply, ushering me out the door and toward the stairs.

Some day I shall kill that girl.

Dinner wasn't nearly the hell that I had expected it to be, except that I was bored out of my mind. I went down to the atrium and waited, standing patiently next to my sister. Okay, so I was fidgeting, tugging at the top of my dress to pull it up. No such luck, if I moved it a bit with out being careful, I'd burst right out of it. And that wouldn't do any body a bit of good.

Elizabeth held her head up as I stood beside her, not looking at me for an instant. I snorted, did she honestly think that I would accept her apology? I am not the one running around like a wench, trying to steal other people's fiancés! And I could be lording the fact that Will chose me and not her right in her face, and I'm not. Although I probably should be, but I don't want to jinx it. The little minx has a way of charming the pants off of men. I cant really decided if the pun is intended.

But anyway, it wasn't very long before the Commodore had arrived, with three of his men. One of them I realized as his First Mate, a handsome young man named Gillette, I think. Unfortunately, he was obviously wearing a wig and powder, as if trying to impersonate the intimidating aura of dear Commodore Norrington. Yes, because bouncy white curls just frighten the bejesus out of me. I smiled thinly, extending my hand as was due of one of the highest ladies of the island. Gillette brushed a kiss over my gloved knuckles. I had decided to put on black gloves that went up to my elbows at the last minute. Mary just clucked her tongue at me, the way she always did when she thought I was being a moron again.

The other officer was the man known as Murtogg. He kept quiet and followed the Commodore and Gillette. I felt a bit bad for him, knowing what it was like to be in another's shadow. I smiled at him as we walked into the dining room.

And finally, it was the naval officer whose uniform I'd stolen the day Jack, Will, and I had commandeered the Dauntless, only to commandeer the Interceptor. When I looked at him, he flushed and looked down. I had to stifle a laugh.

"Christina, dear, you look like you are in mourning, child, whatever is the matter?" my father asked, favoring me with a smile; one that I did not return.

"Why, father, how unusually perceptive of you. I do happen to be in mourning, for lack of freedom. You see, I am a child of the island. I cant live a day without fresh air and sunshine." I snapped waspishly.

The Commodore smirked, "Freedom? What woman would have any want of that? I was under the impression that they are perfectly happy with the lives they lead. It is their place to stay at home, safe behind walls, where they belong. It would do you good to learn that, Miss Swann," he said ironically.

I glared, "Perhaps for women like my sister, Commodore. Although she turned down the prospect of life behind walls, considering you would be behind them with her for the most part. I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why." My father looked outraged, and was about to chastise me, justifiably I'm sure.

"Perhaps, then, Miss Swann, you are desolate. I do not see your fiancé anywhere near. Just like a woman to be so bound to her husband, future though he may be," the Commodore answered nastily. I couldn't help but feel like I liked this banter, my sister could never come up with a come back fast enough, and when she did it was usually "Ooh, just wait until I tell Father what you've done now!"

But at the moment I was not in the mood to talk about Will to anybody, least of all the Commodore. Especially not in front of my sister and my father, who would just gloat about all their successful conspiring. Which is what I was thinking it would turn out to be, Elizabeth getting back at me for her lack of fiancé and my father taking her side. Was it my fault that she turned down the most eligible man in Port Royal, just because she assumed that Will was in love with her? She could be planning her own damn wedding right now if she has been the greedy little witch that she was supposed to be. But no. She had to be smart about it. Well look at where it got her.

My father laughed nervously. "Well, as it turns out, my lovely daughter here seems to be very spirited. I, as any father would, want to calm her down a bit. She isn't to leave the house this week," he said. And inspiration hit me, once again, upside the head.

"That's not what you said!" I complained loudly, pitching my voice to match the whine that Elizabeth had patented. He looked at me, surprised, "Why, whatever are you talking about, dear? Of course it is."

I pouted sourly. "No its not. You said that I was prohibited from seeing Will this week. You never said that I was to stay indoors." My father opened his mouth in indignation.

"And you are the Governor of Port Royal! Shouldn't you treat me as fairly as all the citizens? With honesty and integrity...I am your daughter! I shall waste away this week, cooped up like a sparrow in a cage! At least let me go into town and walk about a bit. I fear I might lose the ability to walk!" I said. My father glared at me, but under the eyes of the Commodore and First Mate it was very hard for him to decide what to do. My father is one who is slightly influenced by what others have to say of him. Just slightly.

He sighed. "I suppose you're right, dear. Very well, you may go to the market every so often. But if I get word that you are meeting with that boy, then you will stay inside for the rest of the week, even if it means you lose your ability to walk. And now, enough of your whining. You disgrace yourself," he said, motioning for me and Elizabeth to occupy ourselves elsewhere while he talks about manly, important things with his guests. Things such simpleton women wouldn't understand. They make me sick, as if I didn't just outsmart his sorry head.

"Well done then, Christina," my sister said as we walked about to the library.

I turned to her, "What do you mean, Lizzy?" I asked, pulling out a book and sitting in chair uncomfortably. These dresses really are the stupidest things.

"You get to go about behind Father's back to visit Will. I would have never thought of coming up with such a brilliant idea as that," she said. I closed the book and looked up, on the defensive side although the tone of her voice wasn't mean.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are a minute younger than me, or five years. Why cant you just let me be?" I asked her angrily. She sat down in the chair opposite me and said nothing. I looked at her and sighed, going back to my book. After a while she spoke.

"I do love him, Christina."

"Well a fat lot of help that does you, Elizabeth. You cant make him love you just because you fancy him. I doubt you even know what love is," I said tiredly, looking up. She looked genuinely hurt, and I felt genuinely sorry, and then genuinely angry for being genuinely sorry.

"You don't think I know what love is?" she repeated. I put my guard up again, the last time I'd had a heart to heart with her she ended up calling me a whore and worse.

"That's what I said," I muttered, raising my chin.

"I know what love is," she said coldly, glaring at me and standing up. "Love is doing anything you possibly can to get the person you love. And that's what I'm going to do," she said. I was shocked to find that I agreed with her. I would do anything for Will, and anything to keep him from her.

"Even if it means hurting your own sister?" I asked sadly, still sitting with the book on my lap. She headed for the door.

"Right, because you've been such a dear to me," she snapped.

I wondered if I would do the same thing. If I would hurt her if she was in my place. I realized that she had been in my place, for eight years, when Will was so infatuated with her. I hadn't done anything…or had I? Had all the time I spent with him been to just learn how to fence, and because I liked his company; or because I wanted him to like mine? Had I gone on the adventure with Jack Sparrow because I wanted to save my sister…or because I wanted to stay with Will as long as I possibly could? And if I hadn't gone, would Will still have proposed to me - the answer to that was probably, painfully no. I sighed and turned the pages of my book thoughtfully without reading them, wondering how Elizabeth and I had drifted to the point where we were indeed enemies it looked like, instead of sisters. I wasn't entirely surprised when I wished she would just be my sister again.

Mary walked quietly into the library, tapping on the door. I looked up, surprised to see that candle that I had been reading by burned a bit lower than it had been before. I must have dozed off. "Up you get, Miss, dinner is served," Mary said, taking the book from me and motioning for me to dust off the front of my dress.

"Did you have to pick such a ridiculous color, Christina? Look, all the dust is so plainly present, it makes you look like…a very dusty lady!" she said, scowling at me. I heard someone laugh from behind her, and was surprised to see that it was Gillette.

"I think she looks lovely. If you'll excuse us," he said, nodding at Mary, who flushed horribly and hurried out of the room. Gillette walked up to me and offered me his arm. I took it reluctantly. "So you're the lady who everyone's talking about, the Governor's little pirate. I've never seen you up close. I reckon you resemble that Jack Sparrow a bit, love," he said. I looked at him strangely, on guard again.

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, sir," was the only thing I could find to say.

He nodded at me, "Indeed. Are you always on a first name basis with your servants?" he asked. I stiffened and pulled my hand out of the crook of his arm.

"I don't see why I shouldn't be. Mary is the same age is me, there is no reason for me to treat her any differently, nor any of the other servants. In fact, some of the older ones I call as respectfully as I would any noble, by their proper titles," I said, walking ahead quickly. The impudence of rich men made me mad.

"I didn't mean to offend you, miss, indeed I am from humble upbringing myself. My father was a poor shipwright and my mother a weaver. It just surprised me that a lady of your upbringing might be so comfortable with her maid," he said. I let him take me by the arm again, relaxing a bit.

"Mary is my friend," I said. "My best friend in fact, save for -" I closed my mouth quickly, resolving not to talk about Will to this man. Gillette, however, grinned at me.

"I'm going to assume that you were not speaking of your sister, then, Miss Swann?" he teased. I groaned under my breath, glad to have finally reached the bottom of the stairs. We were nearly at the dining room, and there I could eat and keep quiet, not having to answer annoying questions. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to me.

"Are you not going to ask me for my name? After all, seeing as how we are both part of the upper class of this island, we should become friends," he said. I smirked.

"Why's that, sir? Think you that I have many friends among the aristocrats? I assure you they are not nearly so fond of me as one might think. I am the Governor's little pirate, remember? You said it yourself and I'm afraid they don't approve."

"Well, seeing as how I'm not quite a part of that nobility, and neither are you, I think we should become friends anyway," he said, smiling again. I couldn't help but smile, his persistent annoyance very different from the stuffy infuriation of the rich wig-wearing men.

"Would it please you, sir, if I was to ask for your name?" I said, walking forward again.

"Yes," he said, walking to keep up. We were outside the dining room now, and he took my arm again.

"Well, what is your name then?" I asked.

"Jonathon," he said, as we walked into the room. The table was laden with plates and food up to the ceiling, it seemed like. My father looked up as I walked in and, seeing my arm linked with the First Mate's, smiled approvingly.

A/N: Well, there you go, mates, another update. Please review. Whew I'm spent from writing all…tell me what you think Christina should be doing during her week of Will-lessness and I'll see what I can put into the next few chapters. And yes Jack Sparrow shall be in this story….I CANT WAIT! But you'll have to be patient, a few things must be sorted out and torn apart first…