Hey guys! Wow. I didn't anticipate that I had to work as much as I did over break, but whatever. I had the beginning in my head for a while, and wrote it down a few days later, but I knew that I had to include something from our lovely Narelle's past, as it has been mentioned before. So BEHOLD! Here you are! Enjoy!

6.

"Captain!" Gillette shouted. "The Interceptor!"

Standing on the Dauntless with James, Narelle watched in dread as her ship sailed away. Jack shouted something and waved his hat, as another man, Will Turner she was told, was tying the mast. Someone was mumbling something next to Narelle, but she didn't hear it. She was focused on the fact that her ship was sailing away. James gave her the ship when he moved up to the Dauntless, and she got the Interceptor for her own missions.

"Captain!" Andrew yelled.

Narelle snapped back to the present, and glanced to the deck and back up to the fleeing ship.

"Follow the Commodore's orders," she muttered. She descended the stairs, and went to the captain's cabin. She slammed the door shut, ripped off her hat, and sighed. She saw a book resting on the bed, and looked at the gleaming title, The Most Notorious Pirates of the Modern Day. Her anger spiked, and she hurled it across the room, bouncing off the wall, and skittering out of sight. She sighed again, took a few steps back until she hit the wall, and slid down and sat. She wrapped her arms around her legs, and her head fell on her knees.

The door opened and closed again. She didn't look up, even when she heard someone sit beside her.

"It wasn't your fault," came a familiar baritone voice.

"I should've known something like this would happen," she mumbled.

"How are you supposed to know that he would steal your ship?"

"You gave me that ship." She looked up and met his eyes. "I just keep thinking that I've let you down, like I've failed you."

"Well don't," he said. "No one could've predicted that Jack would steal your ship. Besides, the Dauntless is going to be your ship until we catch the Interceptor."

"What about you?"

"Consider me a passenger, but one that has more authority than you. Don't worry, I won't get in the way, unless you need a break."

He stood, held out his hand for her, and helped her up. She went to leave, when she heard James grunt. She stopped.

"What?" she asked without looking.

"My book," he replied. "It was on the bed when I saw it last."

"Check under the bed, or behind your bookcase."

"You threw it, didn't you?"

She smiled, and tried to hide it. "I have no idea how it got there." She left, and then turned back, remembering something.

"Oh, hey. By the way, I have a question."

James's head popped up from under the bed. "What's that?" he asked.

"Do you still love her?"

"Yes," he immediately replied.

Her gaze fell to the floor, and she nodded once before leaving the room.

Night had fallen, and Narelle was still wandering around the deck, chatting with her crew, and answering most of the questions that came up. Over time, more of the men eventually made their way below deck to sleep, until only she and the helmsman remained on deck. She maintained her distance from him, he was crabby about being at the helm all night, and watched the waves mostly.

She heard someone walking around on deck. Looking over her shoulder, she saw James slowly walking over to her, his hands behind his back.

"Lovely night," he commented.

She gave a half smile. "You're going to have to do better than that," she replied.

He sighed. He leaned on the rail of the ship and picked at the splintering wood, not looking at her.

"Tell me about one of your roses."

She looked back over the waves, as if she was searching the water for the appropriate memory. Her eyes then swept over to him.

"Remember when we met in Port Royal?" she asked.

"Don't tell me that's one of your roses," he said with a smirk.

"It wasn't the first time we've met, you know," she continued.

He stopped picking at the wood. His eyebrows furrowed together, and he looked up at her.

"Yes it was," he replied.

She gave a sad smile. "No, James, it wasn't."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me."

"I was sixteen…"

8 Years Earlier

Narelle looked out the very tiny window in her bedroom. The tower she was locked in was the newest addition to the palace, and she felt like she was in prison. Worse, she felt like an animal. Lightning flashed, and the clap of thunder was not far behind it, as she stared outside.

Her hair was neatly combed, and she was in her nightgown. She heard people talking on the other side of her door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She knew the two guards at her door were most likely talking to Sophie, but they could be talking to the King for all she cared.

The door eventually opened, and Sophie entered. Narelle kept staring out the window, only blinking when the lightning struck again and again.

"You should sleep," Sophie suggested. "I think the King will let you out tomorrow, so you should rest up."

"Then tomorrow I will leave this wretched place," was Narelle's curt reply.

"Where would you go?" Sophie fired back.

"The Caribbean. There's a settlement there called Port Royal, and I could blend in there. No one would even know."

"The King would know."

"Like he cares. He wouldn't waste a man on my life."

"You know him. He could send a letter ordering your execution on your arrival. You can't run from him."

Narelle whirled around to face her. "You think being locked in this damned tower makes any difference?"

Sophie stayed silent.

"I don't need a bed warmer," Narelle continued. "I'm going to bed."

"Very well," came Sophie's small reply. "Good night."

Narelle was asleep shortly after crawling into bed. The lightning continued to flash, and the thunder kept clapping and booming throughout the night. A few hours later, one thunderous boom scared her awake, and she sat up in her bed. She saw a strange glow under her door, and shadows that kept moving.

Another flash of lightning lit the room, and the door opened at the same time the thunder clapped through, and her two cousins, Isabella and Margaret, stood in the doorway, each one holding something dark in their hands.

"Grab her," Isabella said, and two guards that guard her door bounded into the room. They each took Narelle's arms and dragged her out of her room, and down the spiraling stairs of the tower. She tried fighting against them, but their grip only tightened on her.

They eventually made it outside the palace into the pouring rain. The two guards threw her to the ground, and left. Margaret and Isabella laughed, as Narelle managed to prop an arm up and look over her shoulder at the two sisters.

"You know what these are, right Narelle?" Margaret sneered, holding her dark bundle in front for Narelle to see. She dropped most of what she was holding, and held onto the handle, turning the dark mysterious material into a long whip. Isabella did the same, and they laughed again.

"You need a better punishment," Isabella said, "so we wanted to do it ourselves."

"Needless to say, I don't think Daddy will let you out tomorrow," Margaret said in a sickly sweet voice. "I think you'll need tomorrow to heal."

"I hope you'll live long enough for me to kill you two myself," Narelle spat back.

"I doubt you'll live into next week," Isabella warned. "Infection can be pretty nasty, I hear."

She delivered the first crack of her whip, tearing at both the fabric of her nightgown, and her flesh. Narelle grunted, but didn't scream. Over and over, the two girls beat her to their satisfaction. On and on it went; Narelle thought she'd been out here for hours. She only screamed when the whip dug deeper into an already open wound. Eventually, Isabella and Margaret grew bored, and they simply left Narelle out in the rain, the ground around her in a red puddle of rain and blood. Only then, did she cry, when she knew they were gone. She laid there, her hopes of ever escaping England being shattered in front of her.

She heard boots slosh through the rain. Realizing they must have discovered her, she heard someone gasp, and ran over to her. The person came into view, and a man rested a hand on her arm. She looked into his eyes, tears freely flowing.

"What's your name?" he asked her. "What happened to you?"

She sniffled before she spoke. "My name is Narelle."

His eyes grew wide.

"Princess Narelle?" he stared in shock.

She nodded.

"What has happened, my lady? Who did this?"

"My… cousins," she replied. The shock was starting to wear off, and not only the pain started to set in, but the fatigue from the blood loss. She blinked a few times, and her eyes started to close.

"No," the man said. "Stay awake. Let me get you inside."

He carefully picked her up, and she rested her head against him, slowly losing consciousness.

"One question," she whispered as they made it inside the palace. "No, wait. Two questions."

"Fire away," he replied softly.

"Who did you get your eyes from?"

He gave a chuckle.

"My mother."

"Okay, and the other question: what's your name?" Her eyes started to close again.

"James Norrington."

Present Day

"I wanted to properly thank you," Narelle continued, "but the day after, I heard from Sophie that you had left for Port Royal, and I never thought I would see you again."

James simply stared at her, still in shock of the memory.

"I had thought about that night many times," he slowly replied. "When I heard that a Narelle was coming to the port, I didn't think anything of it. I thought it was just some lady who had the same name as you."

"Yeah, I know all about that. The Princess's name is Narelle, so every girl that is born while she's around will be named Narelle, because everyone wants a princess in their house."

"I still can't get over the fact that you're the Princess of England."

"Well, remember, I'm the true heir to the throne, but since my uncle moved in, I've been snuffed out. My cousins assisted in that."

Narelle started to walk away, but she paused.

"Thank you," she said over her shoulder. "Thank you for rescuing me."

She continued walking, descended the stairs, and found her bunk amongst the sleeping crew. She shrugged off her coat, removed her hat, and untied her bow, before crawling into her hammock and falling asleep.

So, yeah. All that happened. I know this raises even more questions, like "Why is her uncle the King?" "Why isn't she queen of England?" "What the general hell is happening?". Don't worry! More will be revealed another time. Classes started up again, and I'm establishing a routine, so that I can get not only all of my homework done while balancing the two jobs that I have, but so that I can still crank out some fanfiction-y goodness for you! Thank you to all those who have added this onto your Alerts, and I'd love to hear from you! :D