A/N: Big note at the end explaining my plans for the story going forward. In terms of my personal crap, there's not much to tell you guys honestly. I do feel a wee bit self-involved by even typing this out haha. I'm still living with a friend, basically stuck waiting to hear back from the homeless prevention people who are supposed to help me since my first meeting with them at the start of the month. It's been a while since I heard anything but I'm meant to be waiting for their call, and so many people are going through similar things out there and need the same help that I'm a little bit anxious about whether I'll hear back at all or not, or whether it typically is just a very slow process. Going to give it a bit more time and then I'll start following things up, because there's very much an end date on how long I can remain where I'm camping out now, and I don't have anywhere to go from here. On the plus side, that end date is three months away, and a lot can happen in that time.
So yeah - not a lot of progress, but also not a lot I can do at this current stage, so I'm just focusing on gratitude that I have such amazing people who are willing to help me while it's all going on. Writing is a good distraction from it all, at least! Along with the fact that I turn 25 today(!), so at least I'll get a good wee evening with my friends later on, too :) apologies if you don't want to be bored with all of these details, but people are being lovely and supportive and I don't want to greet that with silence or secrecy, especially when exceptionally kind donations have been involved.
The day of the ball came far sooner than Theodora would have liked - and with it, a parcel from Elizabeth wrapped up impeccably neatly in a dress box, brandished by a rather stern looking messenger man. The note lying atop it simply read "please take it" in elegant script. She supposed she didn't have much of a choice.
Rather than the darker, bolder colours of the previous dresses, this one was a rich, warm golden hue, with intricate crimson embroidered detailing, that almost exactly matched the shade of her hair, creeping up the bodice, the cuffs of the sleeves which ended at her elbows, and the hem of the skirts. The fabric glimmered just a little in the candlelight of her bedroom, and she knew the effect would be tenfold in the lights of Governor Swann's mansion. Had she simply had the dress in her own wardrobe here, she never would have worn it to this event for fear of looking like she was trying to engage in some pathetic attempt to outshine the woman of the hour. But in this case she supposed that it would be rude not to wear it.
As Hattie dressed her, she wondered idly to herself whether these dresses were as she said - a happy accident. The first one, perhaps, but was she really to believe that Elizabeth had a wealth of dresses tucked away at the back of her wardrobe that did not suit her at all, but were miraculously very complimentary to Theodora's own looks and colouring? Or were they charity? If the universe, the gods, the fairies, the stones - whatever - had conspired to send her here just to be the recipient of Elizabeth Swann's charity, of her cast-offs, she was going to have stern words with them when she got back home. She could see the headlines now. 'Missing woman found screaming at rocks about Pirates of the Caribbean. Jack Davenport files pre-emptive restraining order'.
Well, the dress was beautiful at least, with a sloping off-the-shoulder neckline that was just a few inches shy of delving out of good taste and into scandalous territory. It was just a shame about the bruises. The ones on her face was almost entirely faded now, although there was little to be done about her lip which still bore an angry red vertical line where it had impacted the doorframe and not yet entirely healed. The ones on her neck, the newer of her collection, were still a sickly shade of greenish yellow. They weren't as stark as those on her face, and the warmth of the candlelight did an amiable job at disguising them, but they were still there. It didn't matter - few would pay her any mind, anyway. Theo was slipping her feet into the matching slippers and taking up a fairly simple cream fan when she noticed Hattie retrieving something else from the box. A length of ribbon, the same fabric as the dress.
"I guess that was in case it needed to be altered or something," Theo waved a hand.
Hattie gave her a strange look "No, Miss Theo, it's for your neck - see?"
Turning the length of fabric, she revealed a small ruby the size of her thumbnail dangling from it. It would've been an amazingly kind gesture on Elizabeth's part, had it not made her want to strip the dress off and climb right back into bed. Mostly because it only confirmed her belief that the gifts weren't second-hand at all.
"Right," she sighed "Yeah, okay."
At least this would be the last of them. Unless she planned to have ball gowns delivered expressly to The Black Pearl. Knowing the extent of the woman's determination, it wouldn't surprise her. That was the thought that was getting her through the night - not Elizabeth's sheer force of will (although that was usually a source of ample inspiration, when she wasn't committed to keeping the governor's daughter and her new fiancé both firmly out of her mind), but the fact that this would be the last thing of this sort that she'd ever have to suffer through. The fact that she would look damn good while she did it was a very small added bonus.
The choker was tied gently about her neck, the ruby coming to dangle squarely above the dip between her collarbones, and then she was making for the stairs. James waited by the foot of them, and she was reminded sorely of the last time they went to something like this. The way he'd squeezed her hand and helped her down the stairs, the look of shy warmth that had crossed his face as he'd taken in her appearance. It was a memory that had long turned sour - not least because of her annoyance towards her own self. For what had she expected to end differently?
This time she kept her eyes firmly downcast as she descended the stairs. In her peripheral vision she saw him take a hesitant step forward as though tempted to offer help, ever the bloody gentleman, but thankfully he thought better of it. Her refusal to look at him probably had something to do with it. Maybe he would think it petty or spiteful - maybe it was - but nothing about this night would be made any easier if his looks of sad resignation fuelled nothing but guilt within her over her being annoyed at him, at the situation, at life itself, in the first place. She was being civil, she was doing her best to be understanding, and she was doing as she was asked. For his sake, if not her own. For the look of things. He couldn't exactly ask for much bloody better than that. And all of this, she might add, she did while furiously oscillating between being upset, furious, and oddly numb. It was a miracle she was still even able to form a coherent sentence.
The sadness was the easiest to deal with. Every now and then she'd allow herself a bit of a cry - usually right before bed, when everything weighed most heavily on her with no source of distraction - but otherwise she would furiously instruct herself to get a grip, and then pretend it didn't exist at all. The anger was not quite so easy, and made the numbness feel like a blessing. There was no outlet for it, really. Yes, some of her ire did fall at the feet of James, but most of it went to the situation, and to herself for not knowing better than to put herself in this position in the first place. Distraction was proving difficult to find. There was only so much she could swim, staying in the house threatened to drive her mad, and the one time she'd tried to go and see Jack in the fort prison, she'd been laughed out of the building by the guards. It seemed they'd been strictly informed not to let her anywhere near him without James' express permission.
That didn't do much to help her direct her ire away from him.
"You…" he said, and then seemed to think better of complimenting her.
Mercifully.
"Is the carriage ready?" She asked, and marvelled at how normal her voice sounded.
"Yes, it is."
"All right, then," she swept past him with a nod, and was climbing in before he could even be forced to extend a hand towards her.
The awkward silence that settled over them during the rather short journey might have bothered her were it not for the series of mental pep talks she was giving herself. Said pep talks comprised of winning motivational phrases like "they can't bother you if you refuse to be bothered", and "you survived a battle with zombie pirates, you can survive this". The surprising part was that it actually worked, but she supposed she had a lifetime worth of speeches on mental toughness from her father to thank for that.
"I'm sorry that I had to ask this of you, but you have my gratitude," James interrupted her inner monologue's attempts at imitating Tony Robbins once Elizabeth's mansion was mere minutes away.
Theo nodded "You're welcome."
"Now that we've had time to adjust, I would like to speak with you about your excursion with Sparrow. It's…long overdue."
"Now?"
"Not now, of course not," he shook his head "But tomorrow, if not tonight. When we get…when we get home."
She gnawed on her lower lip as he reconsidered, and then doubled down on his phrasing in the latter part. But then she nodded.
"Yeah. I figured that was in the post."
Her wording made him frown, but when he realised she wasn't arguing with him his brow smoothed over again. It was probably one of the few things that she could thank that kiss for. It did turn the tables a bit, didn't it? Without it, she'd be sitting here having to pretend to be happy for him at all hours (not only when they were in public), and would have likely been in for several bollockings - and not the fun kind - regarding her recent adventure. Hell, she had to take what good sides she could get out of this, didn't she?
"It's a discussion that is long overdue," he said pointedly "I'd have pushed the matter harder, were it not for…"
"For our impressive avoidance of each other."
"Quite," he said flatly.
"We can talk about it anytime, James, I haven't got any great secret to hide," she snorted.
"I might point out that those with nothing to hide don't often point it out."
He had a point - the words had been a rookie mistake. But Theo didn't have to let him know that, and instead fixed him briefly with a rather unimpressed look. He returned the look unwaveringly for a few moments, long enough to make her dread that he knew something she did not - or more than he let on - before he sighed and shook his head.
"Let us just get through this first."
"That's the spirit," she muttered.
He gave a tired snort, and she did her best to plaster a fake smile on her face as the carriage slowed to a stop outside the mansion. James climbed out first, and then she followed, and at that point she had little point but to take his arm as they headed inside. Despite her retort, he had a point. Getting through it was the best she dared to hope for at this point.
The energy at this ball seemed to be more…heightened than the one at the last. There were a bunch of possible reasons for that, and the true one was probably some combination of all or most of them. Commodore Norrington was the hero of the town before this, but his reputation had reached new heights with this and with the engagement - and who did not love Elizabeth? She was a difficult person to dislike. God knew Theo almost wished she'd make it a little easier. Their match was viewed as an all-round success to all who did not wish themselves in the shoes of either the bride or the groom, and following on from such sorrow, it seemed the balm that all those gathered here had needed to heal and recover. The dawn after the darkest of nights - for they had no way of recognising it for what it was. The calm before the much greater storm.
It was a daunting party to walk into, not only because of her knowledge but because her own spirits felt so low in comparison, and instantly had her feeling even more out of place than she usually did in this crowd. But there was nothing to be done other than try to use their good spirits to lift her own.
A glass of champagne was as good a place to start as any. James was immediately swamped with admirers almost from the moment they stepped through the door, and so she slipped her hand out from the crook of his arm and slipped into the fray. The whispers were back -the ones that had just died down before she'd run off with Jack. But James, damn him, had been right. It seemed that their displays of friendship had succeeded, for the whispers were more curious than scornful, and when she caught the eyes of those who gossiped they quickly flushed and looked away rather than fixing her with imperious looks or sneers.
Still, she breathed quite the sigh of relief when she spotted Groves making his way towards her with a smile.
"You look better when last I saw you," he greeted.
"I'd be worried if I looked worse," she smiled "But thank you. You look good, too."
Bowing his head in thanks, he moved so that he stood at her side, and she was hit by the memory of the last time they'd stood like this at the promotion ceremony. It felt like it had taken place years ago. Christ, she felt like she'd been here for a decade.
"May I ask if it's time for that explanation?" He asked.
Theo fought the urge to tense. It was only fair that he asked - they were friends, and she knew he must have felt at least confused by her actions as of late, even if he didn't take them as the same great insult that James probably did. But the problem was she simply did not have a good explanation. Not one that would satisfy their suspicions. There were…options - some more foolish than others - but the miraculous cover story that she'd been waiting to swan into her mind fully formed had opted not to show up. The timing that flummoxed them was the same thing that negated any explanation she might give through the simple fact that she'd gone to see Jack before Will had. It had been Will's plan to save Elizabeth, and Jack's to take The Interceptor - after Will had spoken with him. She would've had no way of knowing both parts of the plan having seen Jack at the time she had.
Unless…
"I can clear things up a bit, but you have to promise me that you won't breathe a word to James."
The doubt flitted across his face immediately, but she'd expected that. It was fine, whether he told him or not didn't really matter - she was just playing a part.
"I…don't know if I can promise that," he admitted.
"Everything is resolved now, though," she pointed out "There's nothing I have to tell that could cause problems if it went unaired. In fact, I think spreading it around would create even more problems, and Christ knows we don't need any more of those at present."
"I quite agree," Groves admitted with a tired sigh "All right. But only if you're right in that the truth won't cause further problems down the line."
Casting a furtive glance around the room, she gently grasped his upper arm and led him to a quieter corner. She didn't even really have to feign the nerves she showed, for this could easily go very badly indeed.
"I confess, if I wasn't already intrigued beforehand, I certainly would be now."
The chuckle Groves gave as he spoke was pretty bewildered, but she couldn't fault that considering she was acting like she was about to induct him into the Illuminati.
"It…may not have been entirely Jack's - er, Sparrow's idea to steal The Interceptor," she said - having to force the words out of her mouth.
It was the only way the timeline they'd so accurately pieced together of her actions throughout the day might be explained. The only alternative, in fact, that she could think of would be to blame Will for it - to say that it had actually been his idea, that he'd let it slip to her on her way out of the jail before he'd spoken to Jack. But while she was happy to dig herself into an even deeper grave (any deeper and she'd soon hit Australia - or, well, whatever was on the opposite side of the world from Port Royal), she wasn't content to throw Will under the bus to cover for her own lies.
Groves blinked rapidly a few times, and then his jaw dropped just slightly as he regarded her with wordless shock.
"Surely you don't mean…Theodora," he breathed a stunned laugh, shaking his head.
"When I left the house that morning, I ran into Will. He was frantic, Theo - he knew of my friendship with Elizabeth, and he'd met me before. He needed somebody that would listen to him…I suppose the local wild-woman was a decent contender. He let slip what it was that he had planned. That he was going to go and see Sparrow, but that he didn't know how they might leave port without James giving chase. That was when I had the idea."
"Theodora, you didn't," Groves groaned in disbelief "I don't even know whether to be upset or terribly impressed."
Theo grimaced, looking away. It felt scummy.
"Hang on, though," he frowned "Why then go to see Sparrow?"
"I came up with the exit strategy, I didn't intend to go with them at that point. Not without meeting him first. I didn't know if he'd be like - well, you know. The one who…" she trailed off and gestured vaguely at her face.
"A fair point, I suppose," he sighed "I still can't believe it. Although I suppose I can - for if any woman would do such a thing it would be you."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I mean it as one," he replied drily "For the most part."
"Are you going to tell James?"
He exhaled heavily.
"I should," he admitted "Not because I wish to create problems, but because he's my superior officer - and a good one at that. The sort of loyalty that inspires…it's difficult to explain-"
"It's like family," she finished for him "I know. It doesn't work without the trust."
"I forget you're of a military family," he smiled "But yes. Exactly that."
"I know what you mean. It was unfair of me to ask in the first place," and she only did so because she knew she likely wouldn't be able to hold him to it "Do what you have to. I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb."
"I doubt you'll be hanged at all."
"Oh, it's just a saying-"
"I know that,' he shot her a rueful look "Your time among the pirates has you too used to being among those who cannot read, Miss Byrne."
More like her time in the past had her too used to being the technical inventor of far too many idioms. But still, she flushed all the same. Whatever games she was being forced to play here, the last thing she wanted was for Groves to think she thought him an idiot.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to patronise."
"I'll find it in my heart to forgive you - but only if you do the kindness of offering me a dance."
"I'm not sure bruised toes are a good route to forgiveness."
"It's an English custom, you'll have to do your best to understand," he said with a great degree of mock-seriousness.
Theo smiled, and found her spirits already lifted, taking the hand he offered "I'll do my best."
James managed to force his eyes away from Theodore and Theodora dancing together just in time to see Elizabeth slipping away from the party in the direction of the double doors that led out to the gardens. He pried his attention away from the redhead. Not only because he had no right to be irked by the sight of the two dancing, but also because he knew he had no reason to be. Had Theodora deigned to do the socially expected thing, the entirely out of character thing, for once in her life and go after a suitable candidate for a husband in the form of his best Lieutenant, James would have little choice other than to be happy for her. Much as she had little choice in the same now. But that was not the case - he knew it was not. Once, he may have thought so - once there might have been potential for it to be so - but the two had settled into a comfortable friendship. As far as he knew. Were Groves' intentions different, though, he'd have had to present them to James.
But just because friendship was the order of the day now, it didn't mean that it would always be so. If James' plan worked, though, it would matter not. The first wave of well-wishers - and the most avid, at that - who had been waiting eagerly for his arrival seemed to have passed for the moment, but he knew that once those gathered were a few drinks deeper it would begin anew, and he would be expected to recount all of the sordid details from the sorry tale they'd all just survived. So, while he could, he slipped away, and followed Elizabeth out into the quiet of the gardens.
"Oh," she jumped as he came to stand at her side "Commodore, I was just taking some air."
"You aren't going to swoon again, are you?"
The moment he made the joke he cringed, knowing what had happened was no laughing matter. But in her discomfort, she didn't understand that it had been a joke.
"Oh, no - no. I'm quite well, I assure you."
A silence threatened to develop, and he saw no reason to fill it with small talk when he could get to the matter at hand.
"Do you…" he faltered and then sighed, speaking perhaps more easily and frankly than he ever had with her "Do you perhaps remember what we discussed aboard The Dauntless? Before the battle?"
His conversation with Theodora a few days prior had given him an idea - albeit not one he'd been able to voice to her. Not yet. The last thing he wanted, the last thing she deserved, was to raise her hopes on the matter before he knew for certain that his idea would prove fruitful. If he was being honest, he expected that it would, and those expectations weren't born of mere hope. He was a realist, dealing in facts and likelihoods and statistics rather than blind hope and risk, but he had to be sure before he did anything with that expectation. James had to admit, though, that it was strange to now hope for something that he had downright feared not one full week prior - that Elizabeth's acceptance of his proposal would be based on anything other than mutual affection. What man ever set out to convince his respectable fiance to jilt him? To think he'd always snorted at those who proclaimed that love forced one to take leave of their senses.
Elizabeth faltered - and then she lied "I'm afraid I do not."
He knew it to be a lie from the strained smile she gave, and the way she began to fan herself just a tad more quickly. It was a difficult topic of conversation, he'd give her that. For none more than him, too, for he had to find a way to word this without offering her insult, and without sounding like he was the one ending things. He might as well have been walking through canon fire - he'd have been more comfortable walking through canon fire. The art of conversation was one that did not come naturally to him, not when he was this unsure. Not when it was not Theodora whom he was speaking with. Surely Elizabeth had come to the same conclusion.
While he could now see his feelings for her for what they were - a fancy, rooted in what was respectable, not true feelings rooted in something real, something that had been built - he still respected her. Admired her. Foolish and ignorant were two words that could never be used to describe her. She had to see it, too. Perhaps she was even thinking the same thing. Was she standing at his side, contemplating how much more naturally conversation came when it was Turner at her side? He suspected so. He was relying on it.
"We spoke," he hedged, tone becoming more natural as he became more intent on having his plan succeed "Of your reasons for accepting my proposal."
If this was to happen, it had to do so quickly. It was a miracle they'd been left here unchaperoned to begin with, and he doubted such a stroke of luck would bless them again.
"Ah," she bowed her head "Yes - yes, I remember now. Forgive me, it's been a very eventful few days."
"Of course," he replied "But I only mean to ask-"
"Commodore, I meant what I said. You are a fine man."
Was it foolish that he believed her when she said it? He didn't think so. It was her method of purporting falsehood without explicitly lying. One could be a fine man without being a man a woman wished to spend her life with.
"Thank you," he said evenly, although he could hear his own impatience slipping through into his tone.
She was fighting against an argument that wasn't actually happening - defending a stance that she did not realise he himself did not want her to take. He was torn between respecting her dedication in keeping to her word, and wondering how little indeed she must know him if she thought he would truly keep her to it if it was not what she genuinely wished for.
"And you are a fine woman, anybody would be hard-pressed to argue otherwise," he wanted to make that clear, it was vital that she didn't take this as an insult.
"Thank you," she gave another awkward smile.
God in heaven, but this was impossible. This foggy mire or propriety. Were he more of a superstitious sort, he'd be worried that this was fate itself laughing at him. How many times had he rolled his eyes, fondly or no, at Theodora for expressing her impatience for such things? For grumbling about how people should simply say what they mean - eloquently, yes, and perhaps carefully - rather than observing a thousand and one complicated rules that only served to distort true meaning and leave those involved playing guessing games? Too many to count. Usually after any occasion where she was required to "behave like a fully functional human", as she often to bafflingly put it. But what if she had a point? What if he could do so, here and now? He was certain Elizabeth felt as he did - he was certain she would be happy to comply with his plan if he would only tell her of it, rather than hinting and hoping she caught onto his meaning.
Hope, true and uplifting hope, struck him then and he turned to her, speaking quietly but frankly.
"Elizabeth, I only mean that would you not rather-"
"Oh, really, you two!"
James only just stopped himself from groaning aloud as Governor Swann's voice cut through the night from behind them, but his eyes did slip shut for a moment out of sheer mourning for the opportunity that was now well and truly gone.
"Commodore Norrington, I never took you for the type I'd have to keep my eye on," the man teased as he approached, already a few brandies in, judging by the cheer in his voice "You must see to our guests, my dear fellow, people are dying to congratulate you."
Most of them already had. James opened his mouth, hoping to make some excuse and get even one more moment to plead his case - or to even give Elizabeth some notion of what he'd been getting at, which would allow her to continue from there. But Elizabeth spoke before he could.
"Excuse me, I must see to our guests," she did not look at either of them as she ducked out of the conversation and strode back into the mansion.
James sighed, and finally allowed Governor Swann to lead him in the same direction. He would not tell Theodora of this - he'd brought her enough disappointment for one lifetime. Stepping into the ballroom, humid and reeking of alcohol, once he spotted her (easily, as always, thanks to her hair and the way both it and her dress gleamed in the candlelight) he wasn't able to take much pleasure in the fact that she no longer danced with Groves, for she'd swapped his company for that of William Turner. The blacksmith had traded his usual working clothes for garb that almost resembled finery, but he still looked painfully uncomfortable in present company. No doubt his presence had been just as expected as Theodora's - their combined presence acting as proof that Governor Swann did not consider them pirates. They spoke intently over flutes of champagne which neither of them paid any mind. James' lips thinned, and then he was dealing with the next round of congratulations.
A/N: The night continues in the next one.
So, just to keep you all clued in on how I plan to do things going forward, once we're at the end of this arc of the story, I'm going to take a bit of a break - which I'm hoping will line up quite neatly over Christmas anyway, I'm going to use that time to properly map out my plans for the story going forward, which I've already begun now, as well as researching some mythology to support my ideas. This first movie was basically Theodora finding her feet in this world (which gave me a chance to do the same tbh), so I do want to be more ambitious with the story, and deviations from the original story, as we continue onward. I have a few exciting ideas that I'm playing with, and basically just deciding which path is the right one…and how happy I want the ending to be. I'll know it when I find it, the correct one always clicks when I stumble across it.
Some parts are absolutely set in stone (and I cannot wait to write them, even if they're ages away…you're all going to hate me), but others are foggy at the moment. The perils of starting without a solid outline all the way through. This is just a hell of an intimidating fandom to write in, not only because the characters are so complex, but because the source material is, too, and masterfully done…which means changing anything (and hopefully doing it well!) will require a lot of thought and planning. I've literally been sitting with the second and third movie making notes and bouncing ideas off of very patient friends, haha.
So, in summary, I'll disappear for a bit when this arc is done (not for too long - at a guess I'd say two or three weeks at most), and then I'll return ready to go for the next movie. Maybe I'm taking it all a bit too seriously, but I just want to do it right! Also clock the fun new cover photo I threw together (on my phone, so pls don't clock it too critically) — I have another ready to go later on which I like even more than this one, but it doesn't fit the story quuuite yet. Soon!