A table-tennis game of emotions and love was being played on the ship. Hearts were batted violently at times, and at others, lightly tossed. They played as though the hearts were made of glass and likely to shatter at any moment – utmost care was taken. Yet, in this triangle of passion, one was bound to break. With the other two, their hearts raged a bitter battle within themselves. A violent battle between duty and desire. Lust and love. Unpredictability and promises.

For the longest time, he had been a captain toying with his perfect maiden – the sea. Calm and submissive at times, and fiery at others, it embodied something inhuman and out of his reach. He would try to seek the magic that drove the raging emotions of the tumultuous sea, but it would slip through his fingers whenever he came close. Now, the heavens had sent the sea in human form, especially for him, and he was hungry for it.

Boredom was unbecoming, she thought. There was nothing remotely boring about this particular perilous journey, but when it was all over, the thrill would end. She would return to England with William, and be married. The initial excitement of marrying a blacksmith with a hidden talent for dueling had worn off once she had learnt to wield a sword as well. Despite her aristocratic upbringing, she was getting increasingly fond of the seafaring life, and it filled her with a heady rush of excitement that she once only felt in the presence of William Turner.

A pirate did not live by the rules of others. Why should he start now, when the stirring of his heart longed for her, the way it longed for the sea? The slight problem of her betrothal loomed within his mind. Yet, he was hoping to change her mind. Lying behind her cool eyes, he could see a dormant passion rising, one that had been suppressed by years of playing a role that ill-suited her. A passion that was lying low, painfully hidden, about to erupt?

She hated herself for it. Infidelity was terrible, and breaking the heart of one as caring and loyal as Will was entirely wrong. Yet, to be eventually stuck in a marriage where cold propriety reigned scared her. Love was to be more than a functional unit for procreation and familial pride – something she's known all too well at the hands of her arrogant, self-important father.

He was clutching at straws now. She was so near – within his reach – but still, beyond him. It would have been a fine match, if not for the fact that her people – the officials and aristocrats, were constantly trying to arrest him. Her personal disdain for him was the result of good breeding and thorough brainwashing at the hands of those who barely understood freedom, and therefore lived in constant fear of its power.

Passion beat above her with its great wings, luring her into a maze of emotions that she had never felt before. Desire and curiosity swirled around her and she gladly welcomed the distraction, enjoying the sensations as they washed over her. She would tempt him, turn his head, and twist his heart.

For she was his blue sea, his tempestuous, stormy, unpredictable sea.