Chapter 2

Months passed before Will saw her again—and when he did, it wasn't because he was seeking her out. Commodore James Norrington requested a sword. He said he was pleased with the one Will had crafted months prior, but his wife—now officially Elizabeth Norrington—wanted one. As much as he had insisted that there was no need for a fine lady of her status to require a sword, she persisted, saying something along the lines of how her experience with pirates made her wish to protect herself. (And even after Norrington reassured her that he was her protection, she still persisted.) "I don't even think she knows how to use a sword," he commented, sliding a sheet of paper with his specifications on it.

All of that said, Will's heart sank to the bottom of his chest while Norrington told him that tale. Why he included such details, after he knew how much he cared for Elizabeth, Will had no idea. Was it just to make him squirm, make him jealous of how Norrington had Elizabeth and Will did not? Regardless, Will took the request. "Elizabeth—" He stopped himself, corrected himself. "Mrs. Norrington is a very capable woman. I wouldn't be surprised if she picked up the art of wielding a sword with ease."

As Norrington left, a memory swirled in Will's brain. When he and Elizabeth were seventeen years old, Elizabeth had approached him to ask if he could teach her how to fight with a sword. She'd explained that she was bored with her governess, bored with her classes; she could only be so interested in history and reading and math, and she wanted something more. "Say, for example," she'd told him as her steps drew her closer to him. "A band of pirates swarm Port Royal—whatever will I do with myself?"

Will had just started his apprenticeship that year, and was only a novice at making a sword, let alone wielding one. "I'm sorry, Miss Swann," he'd said in reply, taking a step back as his heart pounded in his throat. "I'm afraid I don't know much about sword fighting."

"Really?" she'd said while grabbing the one he'd most recently attempted to make. "Maybe so… But I'd say you're a talented boy, Will. One day, will you teach me?"

He could still remember the blush creeping up his cheeks, though luckily the fire in the blacksmith's shop provided an excuse for why his skin was so red. She'd looked so dainty approaching him that day, that same warm smile on her face she always wore when she saw him. They'd maintained their friendship for years at that point, but their relationship was resorting back to acquaintanceship with each passing day since Elizabeth's sixteenth birthday. "Of course, Miss Swann. If that's what you wish."

Three years passed, and Elizabeth never did approach him for those lessons. She became entangled with governor's balls and politics and her father's business, things that Will never had to worry about. He would see her occasionally, and her face would light up for a brief moment; but their reuniting would usually be interrupted by someone Elizabeth was out and about with, demanding her attention. She never seemed alone. Sometimes at night, he'd wonder what she was thinking about, what she thought of when her mind was freed up at the end of the day. Did she ever think of him the way he thought of her?

For years, he'd questioned whether she thought about him. Their escapades on the seas with Captain Jack Sparrow and Barbossa's cursed crew made him realize he hadn't been dreaming, that she did think of him in more than a friendly way. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, then, when they'd almost kissed on the Black Pearl. If he'd known better, he would have reminded himself that he was below her station, and a lifetime of being raised in the governor's household would mean she wouldn't betray her upbringing just for him.

Once Will had Norrington's order complete, he headed to the governor's mansion. As far as he was aware based on the town news, Norrington had moved in as a new member of the Swann family; the size of the house was fitting for a man of his station.

Will was greeted by the butler, and as soon as his foot hit the tiled foyer, his heart started pounding, irritated in his chest. The uncertainty over whether he was going to see Elizabeth that day was dizzying.

After being told to wait, a minute or two passed before he heard a shuffle on the top of the stairs. "Is that the sword I requested?" a woman's voice rung out, a voice he knew all too well—Elizabeth.

She was a vision per usual, donned in a golden gown with her hair done up. Despite their last meeting, and despite how they'd left things, the grin on Elizabeth's face was as if she'd seen him last week.

"Y-yes," Will stammered, bowing slightly at her approach.

She reached out a hand for the box he held, the other brushing against his own. "Thank you," she said, her skin lingering a tad longer than appropriate on his. He was brave enough to return the warmth she radiated, though he had to admit he was confused by the gesture.

"Ah, Mr. Turner." Norrington appeared, causing Elizabeth's hand to fall and for both of them to take a step back. "You brought exactly what I ordered, if I am to assume correctly?"

"Yes, sir."

Norrington took the box from Elizabeth and unshielded the sword. "Light, easy to maneuver… A perfect beginner's sword for someone of a fine stature." He showed the metal spectacle to his wife. "For you, Elizabeth, as you wished."

Despite the months of marriage, Norrington and Elizabeth's interaction was awkward. Elizabeth handled the sword with ease, though she wouldn't know where to begin if she was actually prompted to use it. "Thank you," she said, and the husband and wife exchanged a glance, recognizing their partnership for a split second. She then looked at Will, her eyes much more expressive and not forced downward. "And thank you, Will. Again. You always do such fine work."

Norrington ordered the butler to pay Will, and with that, Elizabeth was swept away to the other room to continue about her duties as governor's daughter and commodore's wife. Will watched for that brief second as the money was placed into his palm, before he was shown out of the mansion and he was left to wonder when he would be able to see Elizabeth again.

Elizabeth remembered the day she stood between Will and Norrington as if a week had passed, not several months. The army of white-wigged men held their weapons up at the daring Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, but Elizabeth had stepped between them, demanding they lower their weapons. "By my request, I command no harm comes to this man. This situation will never happen again."

Behind Norrington's eyes, Elizabeth could see that he suspected, as he had since the moment she promised to marry him if he saved Will's life, that her heart laid elsewhere. But God forbid she said that out loud during this moment, with guns pointed at her. Will had already committed two sins: intervening in the execution of a pirate, and confessing his love for an upper-class woman. Adding her neck to the noose wouldn't help either of them. So she stood between Norrington and Will…as a friend, and nothing more.

"Lower," Norrington ordered, and with that, Will was let off with another warning. Jack Sparrow made his daring escape as Elizabeth walked away, refusing to look Will in the eye over what she'd done.

While Elizabeth felt the urgency in her feet to walk faster, away from the executions she just prevented, her father caught up to her, catching her elbow. "You've made a smart decision, Elizabeth," he said as if he hadn't given her a lecture not too long ago about good decisions not always being right decisions. She suspected, as she had for a while, that as much as her father wanted to look out for her happiness, and would support her in whatever decision she made, class, status, and propriety still weighed heavily on their reputation. Elizabeth simply nodded her head and pulled away, continuing her trek away from the scene before Norrington could catch up and see the tears pooling in her eyes.

That moment had occurred almost a year ago now. After making her choice, she'd found herself on a secluded section of beach where she and Will used to sneak off when they were teenagers. They did nothing scandalous, of course; for a long part of their relationship, Elizabeth had thought of Will as only a friend. A trusted friend she grew fonder for, until she was forced to distance herself from him as they grew out of their teenage years. She'd pictured some of those innocent moments as she collapsed on the sand that day, uncaring to the new gown Norrington had purchased for her to wear to the announcement of their engagement. She'd re-worn it to Jack's execution. It seemed fitting at the time, to wear what was smothering her to the death of a questionable new friend. Then Jack's hanging body wouldn't be the only one seeping life out of it.

Reflecting on that day now, Elizabeth felt even more compelled to visit Will. She'd restrained herself for months, snapping her head around if, on the rare occasion, they caught eyes in the middle of town. Not that Elizabeth had to worry about indiscretion; she was never alone when out in public anymore. But the more she engaged with Will's presence, the more her chest would ache, and the more tempted she'd be to see him.

And not seeing him had worked, at least for a while. Then Elizabeth had had the dream: a provocative stirring inside her resting mind reminding her of the attraction she and Will had shared during their pirate escapades. The sprouting love – dare she say it? – in her chest when she realized he'd risked his life and livelihood to save her. The dream was mostly a recollection of what had happened, until the end, which extended into a scene that woke up Elizabeth with a blush. Next to her sleeping husband at the time, Elizabeth felt an urgent need to rush out of the room to the bathroom and splash cold water on her face. Seeing her flushed cheeks in the mirror only confirmed how bothered she was by the scene she'd imagined between her and someone she loved but had to denounce.

Shortly after that, Elizabeth began to reconsider what she was doing with her young life. She'd done everything that was expected of her, and she could feel her soul was bogged down by the weight of missing a person she truly cared about in her life. Was there any danger in seeing Will, as long as they remained cordial? Was she willing to risk it after months of keeping him at a distance?

She knew it might be suspicious, but Norrington had known her for even longer than Will had, so she believed he wouldn't be surprised by her request to order a sword. Despite following the traditional path that was laid out for her, everyone – from her father to Norrington to the entire town of Port Royal – knew that Elizabeth was not the perfect example of ladyhood. She was courteous and respectable, of course, but she had an edge to her – and after her experience with pirates, she figured she had a good reason to want to acquire such a weapon.

The exchange she had with Will at the door was brief, but it was enough to reignite the fire that had been lying dormant inside her since she'd saved his life. With the sword in her possession, she knew it wouldn't be a stretch to ask for some assistance – and discretion. Norrington was a skilled swordsman, no doubt, but he wasn't the reason she'd asked for the sword to begin with. Will would respect her request to keep things private, she had no doubt whatsoever.

Her heart pounded the entire way to the blacksmith shop, picking up pace the closer she got to it. She wore a plain dress to avoid being easily spotted in the crowd, though the costume wouldn't be enough to stop her from being recognized. After months of precise caution, maybe Elizabeth had finally been ground down to some carelessness. Regardless, she had nothing to hide. There was no harm in seeing Will as a trusted colleague. (At least that's what she told herself as she strolled through the public town with only a colorless dress and gray hood to obscure her identity.) Opening the door, Elizabeth dropped the hood from her cloak, instantly recognizing the man whose back was turned to her.

At the sound of the door closing, Will turned around to greet his guest, only for his heart to stop in his chest.