Disclaimer: I only own my OC(s)

(A/N: Long time coming. Read and review. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I think I got them all, but you can never be too sure.)

The Blacksmith's Daughter

Chapter Two

How the carribbean sun can kiss,

and yet still miss

her heart.

"You spelled 'Caribbean' wrong, Anna."

Will commented, reading over her shoulder as he bit into a red, crunchy apple, juice spilling down his chin. He wiped it off on the bell of his sleeve and Anna let out an exasperated sigh. Twirling the quill in a circular fashion around her fingers, she turned to face him, a bothered tone drawn out on her face.

"Well, just how might you spell it then, Will?" Anna asked squinting her eyes at him with a mock quizzical look. In just over the past fifteen minutes Anna had begun to write in her notebook, Will, who was being nosey and reading over her shoulder, had spotted at least ten spelling, and grammar mistakes.

Laughing, he shook his head no, "I'm not telling you how to spell it; it's an easy word anyways."

She playfully glared at him, lightly smacking him atop the head with the palm of her hand. "Will Turner, you are such a bloody pain!"

Anna turned her back to him, and focused on the table in front of her. It was the workshop table, littered with various iron tools and the sword Will was to deliver to the governor for Commodore Norrington in a few minutes. Directly in front of her was the notebook Will had given her the previous week. All morning she had been jotting down random thoughts as she finished up her chores and what not.

'Maybe someday he'll love me'

she thought hopfully.

" Hopfully ? You mean hopefully?" Will chuckled loudly, his face turning red with emotion. Anna raised her eyebrows, and stood up to face him, she herself trying to sustain from giggling, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Aren't you leaving about now?" She asked gesturing to the casing the sword was in on the table. It was the finest leather, the most expensive in town.

He batted his hands against his chest , mock hurt and his mouth ajar into the perfect 'o'. Anna blinked back laughter trying to look stern.

"Annabelle, dear, are you shooing me away?" His voice was light and airy and both Anna and Will couldn't suppress their laughter anymore. They laughed and laughed not quite sure what they were laughing about.

Anna hugged Will around the waist as their laughter settled, breathing onto his neck,

"Thanks for being a friend, Will." He hugged her back with just the same, if not more, amount of strength, placing his head in the crook of her neck.

"No problem, Annabelle."

It seemed that these little tender moments had been becoming more frequent in the past weeks. The realization that Anna was soon to be married off to Mister Henry Smith, a trader who was along the lines of thirty years old, no matter what, was setting in. And already Henry had made it clear that once they were married, Annabelle would have no need for Will in her life. It was harsh and Anna remembered crying herself to sleep that night..

Whenever given the chance, Anna would find some way to touch Will, in a loving way. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, squeezing his hand, giving him small hugs here and there. For the most part Anna was going to miss Will a lot. She can't really remember being happy without Will. Of course fuzzy memories of her young childhood, but they were unclear and better then what really happened.

They pulled away from each other, Anna closing her notebook and replacing the cap on the ink bottle, careful not to spill anything. Will watched her do all this with a knowing half smile lurking across his lips. And he just couldn't bring himself to think about when Anna wasn't going to be there, in the shop, with him.

For so long it seemed as if time was on there side, with long nights of talking and days filled with bickering all in good humor, and now, for the first time, it was truly intangible.

Will was in love with Elizabeth and everything about her. He loved the way she smiled, and when she'd talk out of the side of her mouth when she said a snide comment. Seemingly, Elizabeth was the human jewel of the Caribbean and all the men in Port Royal wouldn't mind taking Elizabeth in as their wife. Elizabeth was perfect, most people thought, except for Anna.

Annabelle had always shined the idea in Will's eyes that Miss. Swann had to have some imperfection that the world didn't know about or bother to take a gander at what it was. But Anna did. Her guesses ranged from the wild and impossible (half male, sixteen toes, strumpet) to silly (obsession with eggs, wears a wig, drinks human blood) and then came the plausible ones ( conceited, spoiled rotten, lonely).

To Will, Elizabeth was perfect: no ifs ands nor buts.

So, as Elizabeth ran her hand daintily down the rail as she stepped down into the foyer, Will was star stuck, mouth gaping. The shrill of Annabelle laughing at him echoing through his mind long enough for his lips to shut into a soft, shy smile. Empathetically, Will watches Elizabeth reach the landing, Governor Swann raving on about her beauty.

"Will! It's so good to see you!" Her heart shaped lips form the words perfectly, making his name seem to sing as it falls to the ground, shattering and melting his heart all at the same time. Those soft hands of hers rub anxiously against a rustic gold chain that, while unnoticeable, was clearly out of place against her fair skin and stiff, new dress.

"I dreamt about you last night." Elizabeth continued, and Will felt a blush crawling up his neck and he spoke, perhaps too fast and surprised sounding.

"Really?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his palms warm and sweaty and had a fleeting thought of what he might look like, standing there, poised waiting for Elizabeth to continue, sweating bullets.

"Elizabeth, this is hardly appropriate-" Governor Swann tried to interject, but was honorably ignored by his daughter, who continued on with the telling of her dream.

"About the day we met. Do you remember?"

It was a question that didn't need to be answered, of course he remembered. Not necessarily because it was the day he met Miss. Swann but because of what had happened that day. The explosions, the fear, the coldness of the ocean kissing and hugging his skin, holding him for what seemed like forever

"I could never forget it, Miss. Swann." His voice wavered a bit, but he erased it was smile. She smiled back and shook her head, raising her eyebrows towards Will.

"Will, how many times must I ask you to call me 'Elizabeth'?"

She batted her eyelashes and cocked her head to the side and Will swallowed a breath of air, hard.

Elizabeth, who was so beautiful and perfect, so close to his own heart beat and yet miles away and he had no clue what words to string together in reply. She expected him to fault and let his guard down, give into her advances but he didn't.

"At least once more, Miss Swann. As always."

Elizabeth shifted her eyes to some spot above Will's shoulder, bitting her lip and nodding her head. And Will was so close to pouring his heart out to Elizabeth, but he shoved it all inside of him, forming a knot in his stomach.

Governor Swann says something, but Will doesn't hear it. All he notices is how straight Elizabeth is standing and the curtly, hurt look on her usually gentle face. He want's to tell her that he's dirt, not worth her time, and that she deserves better, but the words are just a jumble in his mind.

"Good day, Will." She said, picking up her skirts and walking out the door stepping into a carriage that only people like him and Anna saw in their dreams.

"Good day..."

Slowly, he whispered off his tongue the name he only said in the confident of his mind or Annabelle:

"Elizabeth..."

And even the bravest men swoon and die when love comes kissing, tauntingly.

"Thread, thread. Annabelle, where's my thread, ordered from London?" Mrs. Jones was prancing around the shop, mussing the racks of fabrics and haphazardly opening various cupboards and drawers.

Anna shrugged her shoulders, replacing the needle in she was holding back into the pin cushion and scuffing her feet over to where Mrs. Jones was hunched over, her head in a small cupboard, standing on her tippy toes.

"Mrs. Jones, do you want me to help..." Anna's offer for help was cut off when Mrs. Jones quickly regained her posture and slammed the cupboard door shut. Her grey hair was matted to her forehead with sticky, sweat and her face was flushed.

"The docks; the ship from London is here this afternoon John!!!!John!"

Sitting down in her chair, Anna saw a young man with long dirty, charcoal brown hair walking down the staircase and into the shop. He was a meaty man, not fat, but wide and broad. In fact he was kind of scary looking, and definitely fearsome. Anna had seen him on previous occasions but was still a bit jumpy and wide eye upon seeing him talking with his mother, this afternoon.

"Annabelle, John will give you money for my thread, you go down to the docks and pick it up. Okay?!? Go!"

She lamely held her handout accepting the gold coins against her skin like a child welcomes honey and sugar. "Just thread?"

Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes and groaned. Her number of years on earth, just over fifty, had made Mrs. Jones plenty irritable, and short tempered. "Yes, now shoo. John will watch for customers while I sew. Bye for now."

"Yes, goodbye."

Relieved and thankful, Anna walked down the dirt road, toward the docks breathing in the sunshine. With a brisk walk, the docks weren't more the ten minutes away. Her energy level jumping out of her skin, Anna began to run down the curves of the hill. Her bonnet flapped around her neck and her hair became loose, itching her cheeks. She was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. After all he had left more then two weeks ago and Anna did miss him. It's just that she hasn't had much experience with love or boys, men.

In that sense, she was still a little girl. She had only kissed a boy once before, when she was fifteen. But it didn't count because it was sloppy and inexperienced. Anna was timid and shy when it came to the opposite sex, and she couldn't help but act a bit immature when she was with Henry.

Slowing her pace down, she reached the bright blue of the ocean and of the port. Mrs. Jones was a forgetful, scatterbrain that made working with her a sort of nuisance. The sun right above head, it had to be, at most, half past noon. The traders didn't set up in the market till two in the afternoon on most days, but Anna didn't think it would be problem to pick Mrs. Jones' thread early.

Anna swayed a bit as she stepped onto the dock, walking toward a man in navy colored breeches and dirty white shirt. His blonde hair was sweaty and matted back into a ponytail, his back toward Anna. She fidgeted with her bonnet and wiped the sweat off her forehead delicately with her fingers.

"Good afternoon, sir."

The man turned towards her and smiled, eyeing her up and down, respectively. He had a crooked nose and thin lips, and stood with his hands crossed over his chest.

" My, my. Miss. Annabelle Brown here to pick up Mrs. Jones thread, I presume?"

Anna returned the smile, "Yes, I am." She held out her palm, the coins sparkling against her skin.

"My favorite thing: a pretty girl with money." He smirked at her and Anna turned a light shade of pink. Discreetly, his hand brushed her side and blush turned darker.

"Henry, I shall need to be returning to the shop soon."

Henry Smith sighed, removing his hand and letting her drop the coins into it. He turned around and dug threw a wooden crate before facing her again, a small burlap sack in swinging from his fingers,

"Six spools of thread. Gold, magenta, ruby red, purple, dark green, and pearl white." With each mentioned he moved closer to her face, brushing his lips against hers.

"This isn't the time or place, Henry."

"By God, I missed you so much. Spin around, let me take your beauty in."

Reluctantly, she set the pouch of thread down, and spun around in a circle. She giggled airly, as he pulled her into a tight hug.

"I've got more work to do lass, but shall we have dinner tonight?" He quirked his eyebrows up and rubbed her shoulders.

"I'd fancy that."

Softly he kissed her forehead, and waved goodbye. She watched his retreating form go below deck on his boat and Anna smiled. Feeling that maybe everything would be okay, when the time came to marry Henry Smith.

Anna turned around reaching for her the pouch filled with imported thread, but didn't see it. Her eyes traveled from the right and back to the left, but the brown bag was no where to be found. Cursing under her breath, she saw a ragged looking man with wild hair swinging the pouch in a circle in the air. Angry, Annabelle ran towards, him yanking back on his shoulder.

He frowned at her, before a smile crawled on his face as he took in her closeness. He looked up towards the sky.

" God, how many times do I 'ave to tell you to stop all these fawning lasses from following me?"

Anna pulled back and slapped the man across the cheek, "That was fast.." He mumbled under his breath, rubbing his sore face.

"Give me back my thread." Anna demanded, her eyes glowering.

"Thread, eh? I have no 'thread' of yers." He scratched at his mussed hair, the kohl under his eyes glimmering with sweat.

"That bag, in you hand had my thread in it."

Anna placed her hands on her hips. The leerily opened the bag and cursed under his breath, handing it to her.

"What 'tis your name, sir?"

He stroked his chin with his fingers, "Why do ye need to know?"

"Well, I shall have to alert the authorities of this."

He pressed a dirty finger up against her lips and moved his face close to hers, his voice low and husky. Her heart was beating fast and her own ignorance hit her back like a brick.

"Love, are afraid of pirates?"

Anna didn't move, holding her breath as he spoke into her ear.

"This isn't the last time you'll hear of Captain Jack Sparrow."

He softly kissed her cheek and walked away, leaving her stunned and confused.

" Sparrow..." she mumbled under her breath.

Captain Jack Sparrow