For days the atmosphere aboard The Endeavour had been lively. It was clear that they were preparing for something on deck – something big. They were preparing for a battle. The biggest battle any of them would ever see.

Maris was a prisoner in Beckett's office with her left wrist tied to the leg of his writing desk via a long length of chain. It afforded her the ability to stand up and walk around a little. They'd found her a plain green dress to wear instead of her grubby nightgown. She didn't want to think where the dress had come from. The thin summer fabric flared out from her hips slightly but looked odd with just her bruised feet sticking out from beneath it. There were no shoes that would fit. It all felt comical. Here she was, tied to the desk of one of the most powerful men in the world, dressed up like a doll and to top it off he was leading her and a ship full of men to a gruesome death.

She'd hoped the revelation about her family would persuade him to take alternate action. It frustrated her that he still felt there was justification in his current plans. So sure was he that her father would lead a surrender that he ignored her protests. It wasn't that Maris cared about Lord Beckett - he'd had her kidnapped, after all. There was just no ignoring the injustice in those sailors going to their death at the word of that stubborn man. A man too proud to know when he was wrong - just to think of it made her feel sick.

It was on the afternoon of her fifth day of captivity that Beckett entered the office to reveal the final plans to her. Maris had been walking around the office at an idle pace. Backwards and forwards, corner to corner, but when he entered the room she stilled and watched as he removed the hat from his head. He rested it on his desk before turning to face her.

"I've come to inform you that it is time for your role in our negotiations with the brethren."

"I see" she responded politely, unsure of what she should say. Her fingers idly played with the loop of the padlock which held the chain in place at her wrist.

It was fair to say that Maris had given up any hope of escaping the ship. She was fed in his office and the only time she was allowed to leave was to sleep or use the bathroom and even then she was guarded at all times by a sailor outside of the door.

"Do you not care to know what is to happen to you?" he pressed, clearly surprised by her lack of curiosity.

"I only hope that it will not hurt and will be quick" she replied immediately.

A sly smile crept onto Beckett's face at her morbid response. "I can assure you that you will not die. You're to come with me to meet with the pirate king. There is a parlay during which we will discuss the oncoming battle. I will use you to negotiate their surrender."

Her brow has creased, "but why do you think the pirate king would want to spare my life? I am nothing to the k-"

"-but you are something to your brother, and I believe he will convince their king to spare you. To save his own flesh and blood…"

"No pirate king elected would ever surrender in battle with the likes of you. No matter how large your armada, and no matter how convincing my brother might be."

Beckett had closed the distance between them as she spoke. She turned to move away from him but Cutler grabbed the hand that connected her to his desk. He pulled her towards him and fished into his pocket for a key.

"I have the Flying Dutchman under my control, and with this Armada, they will not stand a hope in hell. It will be a desperate battle for them."

Maris watched him as he placed the key into the padlock

"The pirate lords are at their most dangerous when they are at their most desperate" she pointed out, "you are backing them into a corner and you do not want to be around when they force themselves out of it. They'll have everything to fight for and you believe that you can offer me up as a white flag for them to use for their surrender?"

Beckett paused and glanced up at her, an eyebrow raised "you know this to be correct, Maris" he replied patiently, his voice almost a whisper.

"You're mad" she exclaimed, staring at the top of his head as he focused again on the padlock. "It has gone way beyond surrender. They don't know the meaning of it."

The padlock clicked open and the chain fell loose and piled onto the floor between them. Beckett caught hold of her hand before she could step away from him. It could almost have been a caring gesture if she'd known no better. Their eyes met, his gaze was confident and hers was questioning.

"When I release you it would be unwise of you to try and escape."

There was no threat in his voice; he sounded sincere which caused Maris to narrow her eyes.

"We're going to die, why shouldn't I run outside and throw myself into the wretched ocean?"

Beckett swallowed, his eyes glancing down at her arm.

"On deck at this moment is Davy Jones, a… man your brother owes a serious debt. He knows you are here and who you are and I believe- no..." Beckett paused and observed her reaction, "...I am certain that if you were to run out there he would take great delight in seeking out his revenge on you for that debt, Maris. On my word, he has promised not to harm you – but you are to stay with me at all times to ensure your safety. Do you understand?"

Maris nodded, dumbfounded and terrified at this new information. She watched in silence as Beckett moved across the room to his desk and carefully put his hat back on before moving towards the door. He paused there and looked back towards her, offering her his elbow like some sort of gentleman. Maris hesitated before walking across the room and linking her arm through his. She figured that if Cutler Beckett was her best chance against Davy Jones she'd best play along.

"I won't allow you to come to any harm," he assured her as they moved out onto the deck. They crossed the ship towards a small group of men who were preparing one of the smaller boats. Maris could feel eyes upon her as the rest of the crew went about their business and she didn't like it.

"How noble of you to save me from the danger you place me in" she sighed as she took a moment to appreciate the breeze on her face. They stopped walking as they reached the boat and Maris took the chance to close her eyes and tilt her face to the sun. She hadn't been outside in days. When she opened her eyes again Lord Beckett was frowning at her. He then offered a hand to help her climb into the boat that was to take them to meet the pirate king.

There was a younger man with long dark hair in the boat already when they reached it. He stared at Maris as though she had two heads. Sitting next to him was a creature that made her blood run cold.

Lord Beckett had not been lying.

Davy Jones looked up at their approach and their eyes met for a brief moment before Maris looked away in fear.

"She doesn't look like Sparrow t'me" Jones growled. Beckett guided her onto one of the wooden benches with some force before he answered.

"Actually, she has her brother's eyes..." Beckett commented, distracted, as Maris gripped the sleeve of his jacket, her eyes trained on Jones wide with pure fear.