Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

When I was young, I idolized my mother. She was always the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, making legendary females such as Helen seem like a hag, and Cleopatra just a passing phase. My mother had eyes that were like honey, and yet there was a green in them, a wild green that defiantly refused to match any of the fabulous dresses my father bought for her. She was always up to something, and she was not much older than I am now when she left. Indeed, she had given birth to my sister and I when she was sixteen, and by the time she was twenty-six, she had left us forever.

But my mother was like no one else I'd known, nor will I ever know again, I suppose. She was the only person who treated me as someone just as beautiful as my sister. She was not impressed by how beige was such a perfect color for Elizabeth's skin tone, or how Elizabeth had had more suitors by the time she was twelve than I would in my entire lifetime. My mother, whose name was, ironically, Belinda, never seemed concerned with the physical. She would read poetry to us, she would force quills into my hand by the time I was five. She tried to get Elizabeth into reading, but Elizabeth was not fond of the pastime at all and much preferred to listen to my mother's stories. Not that I could blame her; my mother told wonderful stories and whenever I read now, I can still hear her voice in my head.

My mother was friends with all our maids, and they loved her. But there was something about my mother that always seemed detached, a part of her that neither my sister or I, or my father for that matter, would ever know. It was whispered by the maids that my mother was married off rather quickly, after having been discovered in a rather passionate affair with a man who was not her husband. My father, who had been infatuated by her beauty and her charm since he first saw her dressed in all her finery, completely miserable, had not cared for her past. Neither had he cared for her miserable mood, or perhaps he did care for it and thought if she were married, she would be happy at last. He had agreed to marry her, and, seeing as how he was the most respectable man my mother's parents could find for her, the deal was settled in a matter of weeks.

I never met my grandparents on my mother's side, although they were alive and kicking by the time my sister and I were born. My paternal grandparents had been long dead, but my mother's had shunned her, and had not even flickered an eye, I have heard, upon hearing of the birth of their grandchildren. I always thought that was a shame, because they would have loved Elizabeth to pieces, I'm sure.

When my mother was around, I was everything she told me about. I was a princess, if that was the story she had told us before we went to bed at night. Indeed, my mother was quite the storyteller, above all else. She was the Shahrazad of England, stretching out stories and adding new ones to every night until she left. From a princess I became a beggar, and then a warrior, and then a slave girl in a Prince's court. I was a lonely mermaid soon to follow, and then a nymph and then a seductive siren; all these before I'd reached the age of ten. My mother cared very little for propriety, filling my head with adventures that she'd leave untold until the next night, and then that she'd finally leave unfinished forever, taking them with her when she left. She would braid ribbons into my hair and tell me stories, and Elizabeth would have fallen asleep by then, sometimes. In the morning, she would beg me to fill her in on the rest of the story, and as hard as I would try my retellings could never come close to my mother's stories. Elizabeth quickly learned to fight to keep herself awake.

My mother sat with Elizabeth and her dolls, she would have tea parties and go riding with us, very often in the rain. It wasn't until we arrived at Port Royal that Elizabeth truly began to enjoy riding, as much as she feared the horses. The rain wasn't good for my delicate sister, who became ill very easily. It struck me as ironic that Elizabeth enjoyed riding two years after my mother had left, the warm safety that was my mother's aura did not seem to affect Elizabeth as much as it had me.

But now, I am thinking of my mother in the two years after she left. The day she left, it was as if everything that I was went with her. I was no longer a princess or a beggar or a mermaid, nymph, siren or warrior. I was just Swann's eldest daughter, the one whom suitors stayed away from, far too drawn by Elizabeth's golden radiance to notice the 'other girl'. They did not like the girl whose hair was a mess, whose skin was darker than the proverbial porcelain because powder washed of quite easily in the heat.

We left England when I was twelve, and went to a haven known as Port Royal, where still I was overlooked. I didn't mind, though, because it wasn't long until I found Will, and before that I'd had Mary. So long as I had just two friends, I would be alright. I didn't like any of Elizabeth's suitors, although she seemed to enjoy flitting around; resembling a hummingbird more than a swan. When my mother left, and I stopped being all of her stories, I became infatuated with pirates. I would spend hours in my father's new library, looking at maps and making notations in a diary filled with messy script of my mother's tales. I would close my eyes and put my finger on a spot on the map, imagining that that was where my mother was. And then I'd read all about that place, and picture my mother telling her stories to the island people, and she was their princess. She did not need the corsets and the silks and the jewels that my father heaped upon her, the island people would see her and know.

My mother had the sea in her blood, it seemed to me, because she seemed so out of place in court. She was beautiful, of course, but looked so very uncomfortable. Besides, she had left by sea, and although there was really no other way to leave, picturing her on a grand ship beside a handsome rogue for a Captain was far easier than watcher her in court. I wish I would say she passed it to me, her sea-legs. But on the crossing from England, I was quite ill in the beginning. When I had recovered somewhat, it took me another long while to gain my own sea-legs. The sailors would laugh at me, seeing me hobble about to the edge of the ship many a day, to lose my lunch, quite often when I hadn't even had any. For the first few weeks, I had stayed in the cabins and tried to pretend that the world wasn't rocking. Once I had learned to walk aboard a ship, I wanted to climb the terrifying heights of the main mast and sit among the sailors, who would often spit from high up and laugh raucously if it hit one of their fellow shipmates. My sister found this disgusting, and had yelled at me profusely when I had tried it. Then my father had given me a big speech about what it is to be a Governor's daughter, and what it most certainly is not.

By now I was out of the mansion and heading to a pub. I don't know where I was going to do when I got there, or who I was hoping to see, and I seemed to have lost myself in memories of how I had gotten here. Upon arriving at Port Royal, I had rebelled against being a proper lady, leaving that up to Elizabeth. I hadn't paid much attention when learning how to behave at a tea party, and what fork to use or what not, but those skills had been hammered into me somehow anyway. Instead, I met with Will and learned how to use a sword. I would spend hours with him, loving the way my limbs ached after, and how Will didn't seem to care that I was a girl when he began to teach me, and how he didn't say that the reason I'd won a bout was because he let me. Will was so different from anyone I'd known; with him, it seemed, I didn't have to be beautiful. .

It wasn't until we both hit puberty in earnest that I began to be self-conscience, if you can even call it that, and began to be away of the fact that I was not, it seemed, the type of girl Will could fall in love with. Which stung, because around the time I had realized that, I had begun to fall in love with him. At one point, I had shown up at the blacksmith shop with powder on, and Will had laughed himself silly. I'd lost our bout that day, and so could not even redeem myself by beating him mercilessly.

By the time I was fifteen life with Will was not so fun, because I longed for him to look at me the way he looked at Elizabeth, and it didn't seem that would ever happen. In fact I began to understand what they would say about my mother, and the reasons she was married off so quickly without a proper courtship. How anyone could hold in such feelings until marriage, a constant ache for words of love surprised me, especially since my relationship with Will had been platonic for most of my life. Indeed, it was a full five years before he realized that I, too, grew breasts and a good deal more than the twig I had for a sister. And since men are so concerned with that fact, you'd think he'd have realized a bit earlier? Of course not.

But that is besides the point. By the time I was seventeen I had grown accustomed to the fact that Will would not, and could not ever be in love with me. And I convinced myself that I didn't need a suitor anyway, and that it wasn't so odd that a woman should go about unmarried for her whole life. And Elizabeth wasn't married either, at seventeen, which was a bit odd…Father, the dear, would not force Elizabeth into a marriage that would not make her happy, although he was pushing for Norrington. Meanwhile, my father shoved me at whatever old man happened to be unlucky enough to spot me. And I would have been married, too, if I had not screamed at said suitor, or spilled hot tea in his lap purposefully. I told my father, quite loudly, that it was because I did not want to have children and so by scalding my poor suitor, I had hoped to be safe from the terror of childbirth. My father seemed unreasonably angry with me about that, but when I told Will, he laughed even as he winced…I told him that it seemed to me that men place too much pride in their equipment, but that was as far as the conversation went because poor Will turned quite red.

I smiled to myself as I entered the pub, and looked around. It wasn't quite safe for me to wander of in my day dreams, I know, but I couldn't help it. It felt as if by remembering the bits and pieces that made up my life, it would be easier to say good-bye to Port Royal, and I thought now about what it would be like to never come back. After all, if Mary decided to come with me, there would be no reason for me to return. Will and Elizabeth would get married and have a fantastic life together, and that was something I was certain would be very painful for me to watch. All my life I'd had to watch Elizabeth get the things I'd wanted, seeing her with Will might be the final straw that broke the camel's back. I looked from one drunken lout to the next, trying to find Jack or someone from the Pearl.

It wasn't long until I did, and felt a rush of relief and apprehension as my eyes came to rest on the slightly round form of Mr. Gibbs. He was sitting at a table by himself, eyeing the barmaids with a less than conservative look on his face, and sipping a rather large mug of ale. I quickly made my way over and sat down opposite him. It took a while for him to register my presence.

"What are yeh bloody staring at, boy?" he asked. The expectant smile slipped off my face quite quickly.

"Boy?" I asked lowly, staring at him until he looked me in the eye. He peered at me and cocked his head to the side.

"What, ye were expectin' me to call ye 'lady' now were you?" he asked, taking a swig of his ale. He sputtered as he peered at me from the corner of his eye, slamming the mug on the table and coughing. "What in the blazes? Miss Christina, what are ye doin' in a pub such as this? And dressed like that - rather unbecomin' of the Guvnor's daughter, in't?" he said loudly.

"Damnation, Gibbs, if I wanted everyone to know who I was I would have come in here wearing a bloody gown and jewels," I said, handing him a handkerchief to mop the ale off his face. He nodded at me quickly and set the now empty mug down and signaled for a barmaid to come around. She did, and draped herself over his lap, giving me an eyeful of not needed cleavage.

"What can a get for you, laddie?" She smiled widely and showed me a lovely display of rotting teeth. I smiled back weakly and grunted, "Nothing, ma'am," trying to dumb down my voice enough to pass off for a male.

"He'll be havin' some rum, luv, and I'll take another mug o' ale," Gibbs said, rolling his eyes at me.

"Hell, Gibbs, do I look that much like a man?" I muttered as the barmaid, who had taken the time to poke me flirtingly in the ribs and tell me her name was Ariel before she flounced off, left. Gibbs had given her a friendly slap in the behind, chuckling. I looked on with pure disgust.

"Mis- Chris, if ye don' wan' anyone to know who ye are, yeh've got to drink something. And to answer yer question, well, with yer hair all tucked in like that ye do pass off for a boy…eunuch, but a boy all the same," he said. I glared and grabbed the rum, determined not to drink a sip of the hell-sent beverage, remembering all too well what had happened last time. Gibbs held out his mug and clanked it against mine, downing half his ale in one chug. He seemed to become even more gruff in the time he'd spent at sea since I last saw him - either that, or he had had more to drink before I'd come in.

"So what is it yer here for, kid? Surely you and ol' Bootstrap's boy aren't havin' problems?" he asked. I glowered and mumbled, "That's exactly why I'm here, Gibbs," To my utter shock, he looked sympathetic.

"What did the git do now, love?" he asked, eliciting a handful of odd looks from the drunken sailors around him. I suppose it wasn't everyday they heard a man call another 'man' love. I snarled at them and they backed off, still peering at Gibbs oddly from time to time.

"Nothing," I said defiantly, not really willing to talk about it, just wanting to get to the point and ask if I could join the crew of the Black Pearl. "Mr. Gibbs, is there any room on the Pearl for two more?" I asked quietly.

"Blimey, I thought yeh said that you and William were having problems," he answered. I rolled my eyes.

"We are. I'm not asking for a spot from him…its for me and a friend of mine. We'd like to leave Port Royal, and it seems that I have a bit of luck because Jack showed up at exactly the right time." Gibbs grinned at me, and didn't say anything.

"Jack mentioned that we might be getting a few more sailors," he said. "Didn't think they'd be women, though. What, with Anamaria and all, the Pearl's set to sink for certain. It's -"

"Bad luck to bring a woman on board, I know. But can you risk it?" I interrupted.

"Sure, it's up to Jack o' course, but I'm sure he wont mind you on the ship. On one condition," Gibbs broke off. I glowered again. "Yer gonna have to tell him why you're so keen on becoming part of the crew."

"What does it matter?" I asked, not in a rush to go sharing my troubles with Jack. I didn't want sympathy, and it was embarrassing enough that my fiancé had left me for my sister. Took him long enough, I suppose.

"Well, he'll want to know. And seen as how I'm in charge of gettin' together the crew, ye'll be tellin' me as well," Gibbs said.

"If you must know, Will left me for my sister? Satisfied? Does it constitute me leaving Port Royal?" I said harshly. Gibbs looked abashed, and reach to pat me on the hand. The rowdy, fearless pirates who had given us odd looks before decided to get up and move to a different table.

"Poor lass," Gibbs said sympathetically, making me boil with rage.

"Yes, poor me. Look, I just need to know if I can join the crew or not. My friend Mary and I. We both need out of Port Royal for a good long time, as soon as possible."

Gibbs sighed. "I think ye should come to the ship and tell Jack about all this."

"But you said -"

"Oh, Jack'll let you on, o' course, but he'd be able to help ye."

"With what?" I demanded.

"Oh, don't tell me yer in tip top shape, with Will leaving you and all," Gibbs pressed. I never realized how truly annoying the man could be. I shrugged angrily.

"I'm fine," I said, which was quite possibly the biggest lie I'd told all week. I took a rather large gulp of rum and shuddered as I swallowed. Gibbs grinned.

"Sure ye are, love, drowning yer troubles is a great way to be alright. Just ask Jack," he said. I glared again, feeling my face get rather hot with the unexpected amount of alcohol.

"This is the first drink I've had since I was marooned on the beach with Jack and her," I said angrily. Gibbs took my mug away, placing it in front of him instead. Evidently, he could hold as much alcohol as Jack could - a thought that was rather unsettling. I sighed. "I want to leave soon. Tomorrow night if possible," I said quietly. Gibbs nodded, taking a swig of my rum. I frowned, but didn't say anything.

"If ye can get yerself here by tomorra' night, we'll go," he said, nodding discreetly at the door as if dismissing me. I nodded and stood up, heading out of the pub. I was prodded several times by Ariel on my way out.

It took a great deal more effort to get back into my room than getting out, not because it was any darker (in fact, it may have gotten lighter but I was not one to judge) but because even the little bit of rum that I'd had (alright, it was a rather large gulp) had impacted my senses. I walked with heavy feet up to my room, not caring if my father caught me, which luckily he didn't. It seemed to me that not only was the rum affecting me, but the realization that tomorrow I would be leaving Port Royal, this time on my own and not to save my sister. I was leaving for myself, and for Mary, because things had gotten worse for her as well.

The Commodore, I had been told, had come over for each of the days that I was 'ill'. He had seen Mary several times during the day, and she had come crying to me saying that he had given her the nastiest looks. I hadn't been much help to her, stuck in bed and crying my eyes out, but I was outraged deep down that he could be so awful to her when she hadn't even gone out planning on deceiving him. I told her that the reason he was being so terrible was because he was probably really very attracted to her, and that he couldn't stand the fact that she was something other than what she had looked liked - a maid instead of a respectable upper class lady. It didn't really seem to help, and I'd tried to cover up by saying that it was hard for a man such as Norrington to deal with the fact that he was attracted to someone beneath his station, in fact it must have been driving him mad. I told her that men like him cared mostly for what other's thought of him. She scolded me for that, telling me that Norrington was really a very honorable man and cared little for what other's thought of him so long as he upheld said honor. I asked her why she bothered to defend a man when he was being so awful to her, and she had responded by asking me why I still loved a man who had kissed my sister.

Nevermind the fact that she was still pushing for me to forgive Will. The girl contradicts herself a frightful lot when she talks to me, its very hard to keep track where she's going.

Anyway, I realized that Mary was not in my room seeing as how it was still early in the morning. I changed from my clothes into my night dress and put on soft slippers, so as to be able to walk without making such a racket. I made my why to the maids' chambers, where Mary was sleeping peacefully next to Anita. I crept over to Mary's side of the bed and poked her cautiously, not wanting to wake up Anita as well. "Mary," I hissed as she stirred. "Wake up, Mary!" I said, putting a hand over her mouth as she awoke with a start. "Hush," I said softly, pulling her out of bed and making my way back to my room with her in tow.

"I've come up with a plan!" I said triumphantly. She stared at me blearily, looking around and yawning.

"Christina, it's got to be at least four in the morning, what on earth are you doing up and so awake?" she asked. I smiled, sitting on the edge of my bed and pulling her down to sit across from me.

"Remember the plan I had, Mary? About us leaving Port Royal? Running away?" I asked, very excited now and pushing down the seeds of regret that were building up inside me. There's nothing for you here anymore, I told myself, trying to believe that I'd outgrown Port Royal and that I would be nothing but miserable here anyway. It wasn't hard to believe, seeing as how Will would soon be marrying Elizabeth.