A/N: Caught what I'm 80% sure is the new dire 'vid variant, wrote half of this in a feverish haze while recovering, surprisingly happy with how it turned out - bone apple tea xoxo

Preparing for a dinner party under the watchful gaze of Elizabeth Swann was the closest thing to having a 'dance mum' Theo suspected she'd ever experience. But her excitement helped her forget her own nerves, and her enthusiastic instruction was worlds better than being stuck under the tutelage of someone who had little wish to help her, so all in all Theo considered herself pretty lucky.

In the morning, they rattled through the list of courses and the corresponding cutlery one final time. Theo excelled at that part solely because she sang the list, in order, to the tune of an AC/DC song in her head. Although she doubted that sort of shit was the audience they were aiming for when they wrote Back in Black.

From there, they practised her entrance down the staircase (which, given the drastically upped hair and skirt mass that formal evening dress held in store, would be trickier than it sounded apparently), the correct way of wielding a fan, and went over what was and was not acceptable dinner table conversation. Dirty limericks, sadly, were out.

Theo wasn't without opportunity to introduce Elizabeth to some modern ways of preparing for get-togethers, either, though. Namely with the concept of pre-drinks – in their case, a generous glass of wine each rather than anything wild like vodka shots – and showing her the wonders of a homemade oat face mask. Neither the servants, nor Governor Swann, had any idea of what to make of that.

Luckily, the results weren't so astounding as to be considered witchcraft. That would be just her luck, wouldn't it? To get this far and then get scuppered by something she'd learned from a shitty YouTube tutorial.

The arrival of the evening was something she greeted with far more dread than the morning. Alice, the maid who'd been tasked with helping her get ready, seemed to sense her nerves – for after ten minutes of dead silence as she began twisting and curling her hair into an elaborate updo, the brunette began chatting merrily about this and that with little expectation placed on Theo to respond. Not that she didn't try to respond, she just wasn't particularly successful.

"It's lovely," she gave a strained smile when Alice stepped back, "thank you."

It was nice – even if she always felt like she had a tower on top of her head around here, regardless of how the styles Elizabeth (and therefore Theo herself) opted for weren't exactly the skyscrapers that others here favoured.

"It's not done yet, miss," Alice said. "There's still the accessories to go. Although it's such a lovely colour, this hair of yours…it'd be a shame to distract from it. Pearls would be a bit much, I think. Especially for a dinner party…and lace wouldn't match the dress…"

Some maids seemed irked by the fact that Theo lacked a certain amount of decisiveness when it came to decisions such as these (mostly because everything was a damn code here, and she didn't want to arse it up), but Alice apparently enjoyed the freedom of input. Which was likely why she'd been assigned to her. Still, as she rattled off an endless array of household items that could possibly be lodged into her hair to give it that extra bit of flair, Theo couldn't help but wonder if the next option would be to stick a little plastic angel on top of it so everybody could sing Christmas hymns around her in a circle.

In the end, they settled on a decorative hair comb, comprised of a cluster of pewter flowers, and Theo considered herself lucky all in all.

Next came the dress. And Elizabeth had really outdone herself on that score. A deep, cool-toned purple silk, it was saved from being over-the-top by the fact that whoever had made it mostly allowed the fabric to speak for itself rather than decking it with non-stop bows and gems and gumdrop buttons.

It was adorned, sparingly, at the pleated elbow-length cuffs and the bodice with lace a handful of shades lighter than the purple of the rest of the dress, and with an amethyst inlaid in silver right in the centre of the neckline. With a length of matching silk about her neck, balancing precariously in her skirts atop the matching slippers she'd been given, she looked like she belonged in this time. To her own eye. Whether she'd ever feel that way was another matter entirely – but that didn't matter much. She was still clinging to the hope that she wouldn't be here long enough for that to become a real issue.

Despite the sneers of the people who were resolved to be unwelcoming, there were plenty here who'd been kind. Elizabeth, Governor Swann, the servants here, Groves, Will, and now even Norrington. She was grateful for that, of course she was. And she'd never discount what a difference that made, because when she thought of how different her day-to-day life would look without the kindness of the Swanns in particular, she ran a real risk of bursting into tears. But…it was still difficult. Of course it was difficult. Watching the clear adoration between Elizabeth and her father had her missing her own dad all the more sorely than she already did, it was a constant reminder. Where did he think she was? How could she get back?

Thankfully, it was time for her to move downstairs before she could follow that thought into a spiral.

They would begin in the sitting room, and then once everybody was good and ready they'd adjourn to the dining room, Elizabeth had explained to her. The guests arrived, and Theo was glad she'd never suffered from an excess of self-consciousness (well, other than when she was a teenager, but that was a given) because if she had, all of the eyes constantly on her would've sent her off into the ocean to find Jack herself before he even rocked up of his own accord.

While the good Captain Sparrow was not fated to attend on this night, plenty of others did. Amelia and her cronies, for one, but also a fair few families who Theo hadn't met – all of whom seemed nice enough – as well as, of course, Captain Norrington and Lieutenant Groves.

The former greeted her with a nod when he entered, but veered off to speak to Governor Swann rather quickly, while the latter smiled and approached when he arrived barely five full minutes later. He came to stand by her at the side of the room, where she'd been pretending to admire a painting. Not that it wasn't a lovely painting, but she knew sod all about art and cherubs weren't really her thing. If they were anybody's thing.

"You look well, Miss Byrne," he greeted warmly. "Are you ready to be unleashed upon society?"

Theo was aware of how many eyes flitted towards them more or less the moment they began speaking – but she suspected it was a given around here whenever any man spoke to any woman. Maybe there was a secret betting pool going on beneath the surface on who would be wifed off and when. Precious little else was going on here. For now, anyway.

"Unleashed?" she laughed. "You make me sound like a plague."

"I didn't mean it that way. Although, come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever heard of a good thing being unleashed."

"Dogs, I suppose."

"That was hardly the comparison I was trying to make, either," he chuckled.

"War?" she suggested. "I think you can unleash war."

"You must stop making these suggestions, Miss Byrne, or I'll think you're determined to dig me in deeper," he teased with a snort, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing footman – after which his eyes lit up. "Power. There. You can unleash that. That was my very clever metaphor all along."

"Oh, I like that one. Nicely saved," she smiled, clinking her glass against his.

"Now I can rest easy, knowing I'm spared your wrath," Groves sipped from his glass.

"That sounds ominous," came Norrington's greeting as he joined them, nodding at her. "Miss Byrne. Lieutenant."

One thing she noted was that, in person, it was much easier to tell that he was handsome beneath the wig than it was on the screen. Very handsome, actually. Well, either that or she noticed him a lot more when speaking directly to him than she did when there were endless pirates and all sorts vying for attention alongside him. Sure, there was always the second one, but with that one she was usually much too traumatised by Jack's demise to notice much else.

But now? Here? She could definitely see why he was considered the catch of the settlement.

"Hello, Captain Norrington," she greeted. "Your lieutenant and I just made war and peace in a minute flat."

"A new record," Norrington mused. "The peace treaty must note that, I think."

Theo smiled, and decided she rather liked him when he was funny.

"Were you successful in your endeavour from the other day?" he asked.

"I was! Very," she nodded – pleasantly surprised that he was even following up on it. "I'm just waiting for word from town."

"Speaking of things that sound ominous," Groves commented.

"Oh, it's nothing – well, it's a surprise, really. I can't discuss it just yet. But it's a good thing."

"My comment about your being unleashed stands," Groves smirked.

Norrington was too disinterested to ask what Groves meant by that – or, it appeared, too preoccupied by reaching into his fancy embroidered uniform coat to produce something. A fairly small leatherbound book, worn but finely embossed. He handed it to Theo, who managed to accept it after a moment of blinking in surprised. It was very warm, from where it had been nestled against him.

"I brought you a welcome gift, Miss Byrne. After our conversation the other day, I thought it might interest you."

She was too busy reading the cover and getting over her shock to notice that his tone was just a bit too overly pleasant.

"You're in danger of outshining the rest of us, sir," Groves joked, but appeared just as confused as she was.

"Viking Maritime Architecture and Engineering," she read aloud.

It sounded like a real nail-biter. But from the likes of Norrington, it was truly a peace offering, so she smiled all the wider and looked back up at him…only to find his watching her with a surprisingly smug expression.

"You really can read."

Theo faltered. And then the smile slipped from her face, replaced by hurt – fuelled by embarrassment, too. Over the time and the setting he'd chosen to do this, and the fact that he'd done it after she'd just been so relieved at their improved standing. Over their stupid little bonding moment. Over how much she'd bought all of it. Y'know. Like a prat.

Not so much a gift, as a test, then. It was clear he hadn't meant to say it. Or maybe he just regretted saying it when he saw how her eyes flashed – as she recognised why Norrington's prowess was on the battlefield (battle-sea?) and not in political arenas. The fact that he'd done it here, in front of everyone, with Groves standing right here as part of their conversation, was just salt in the wound.

"It was good of you, Captain," she breathed a flat laugh, "to choose one with such long words, in order to really test your hypothesis. There, actually – hypothesis. Add that to the list of words I know with more than two syllables. You'll have a whole scroll of 'em before long."

It probably wasn't very polite of her to say what she did. But mostly, Theo was congratulating herself on not saying what she'd really wanted to; that he could shove the book, along with his stupid wig, right up into a certain orifice…if not for the stick that was already lodged therein. But the Swanns wouldn't have appreciated that – even if she herself might've been proud of herself for putting together an insult that contained the word therein, because it looked like this century was really rubbing off on her already.

Groves suddenly appeared to find his glass of champagne utterly fascinating,

"Excuse me," she said, setting the book down on the nearest side table, and taking her leave.

"That went well, I think," she heard Groves comment mildly behind her.

Norrington did not respond.

Of course, as she took her leave she realised that she didn't actually have anywhere to walk away to. She knew no other here, with the exception of Elizabeth and her father, and she point blank refused to be the sort of pathetic wet wipe who scurried off to hide behind the Swanns whenever the going got tough.

God, she'd sent him a sandwich. What sort of idiot was she? She wished he'd damn well choked on it. He'd probably binned it, actually, or tested it for poison – or force fed it to one of the prisoners in Fort Charles to test his little theories.

She was saved, mercifully, from pretending to stare at any more of the room's decorations when dinner was announced in the next moment. And then she was saved yet again when she found that Norrington was seated at the Governor's side down at the leftmost end of the table, while she was placed firmly by Elizabeth right at the opposite end, with Groves at her left and a man she hadn't yet spoken to opposite her. Theo also suspected that Elizabeth did indeed know damn well which women had been a problem in town, because they were all seated down at the other end, too. No doubt they'd be pleased at being so close to not only the Governor, but their favourite eligible asshole too, so everybody was happy.

Dinner went off without a hitch. She followed Elizabeth's lead with the cutlery, she made decent enough conversation with those around her, and – best of all – Groves resolutely pretended he hadn't witnessed what had just happened in the drawing room. The meal itself was a long, drawn-out affair, but she didn't mind that. The food was good, and she wasn't in any rush for the whole party to mingle once again for a final round of drinks in the drawing room.

When that time finally did come, she decided that she at least deserved a moment to collect herself before getting through the final burst of the evening. If she left after they entered, it would only be all the more noticeable, so she reached for Elizabeth's hand while everybody was distracted by leaving the table.

"I'm sorry – I'm not used to this heat just yet. Do you mind if I…?"

"Of course – go. The patio is often cool at this time in the evening, so long as it's a cloudless night," Elizabeth squeezed her hand and dismissed her with a wave. "I'll make your excuses."

The night was indeed cool and cloudless, and after the humidity of the dining room and the pervading smell of meat and alcohol, the fresh air was a miracle worker. Leaning against the wall so that she wouldn't be visible from the drawing room windows to any but the most stubborn observer, she stared blankly into the distance and let her mind wander.

Before long, Theo had no idea how long she'd been out there. She felt lighter out of the gaze of those gathered – taller, too. It wasn't even that she put stock in their opinions of her; save Elizabeth, none of them could ever know her story, and therefore they could never truly know her. Their opinions, their disapproval, their judgement was all for the façade she was putting on. Well, if they knew the real her, they'd deem her common as muck anyway, so none of it really mattered. But there was not caring about what they thought, and then being stuck in a room with them all while they tittered and whispered behind their fans. And while the one who was supposed to be all good and noble and proper made it worse by openly humiliating her.

Had the movies really gotten him so wrong – shined such a rosy light on him – or did she come across that badly to everybody here? It was…demoralising. It was lonely. She just wanted to go somewhere where people knew her. The real her. Jack's arrival was something she'd been nervous about. A lot was riding on it, it was her only hope, and it was far from a solid hope, at that. But the more things felt wrong here, the more she looked forward to it. She took a deep breath in, refusing to cry over this. That would be pathetic. She was just ready for the night to end.

So lost was she in her brooding that she didn't notice the footsteps approaching behind her – something for which her folk back home would've been sorely disappointed in her. When the hand landed on her shoulder, though, they would've been very pleased by her response. After all of the sparring they'd drummed into her, it was muscle memory more than it was a conscious reaction. What her instincts told her to do was spin away from the grip, grab the person's wrist and hold it at an angle.

It should've been easy. But while she could manage it in stilettos if she really tried, doing it in stupid eighteenth century slippers with nothing at her heel was another matter entirely. Her foot slid from the shoe as she spun, sending her off-balance as she unexpectedly stepped down a few inches. Stumbling, the hand that would've grabbed the arm ended up aborting that mission and flailing before her face instead, and she ultimately looked like an absolute tit. All before a very horrified Groves.

Not only Groves, it turned out, but also the guests who were near the massive windows…and Elizabeth, walking but a few feet behind the Lieutenant.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm so sorry – I didn't know you were…"

"No, I'm sorry," Groves said quickly, offering a hand once she straightened so she could step back into her shoe. "I…I called to you, but you didn't hear."

"No, no, not at all, I was- I was world's away," she caught her breath, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. "It was my fault. I didn't smack you, did I?"

It was a miracle – a sodding miracle – that she'd stumbled and arsed up the move. Being startled, she could explain. Putting Norrington's right-hand man in a headlock? Not so much.

When she recovered fully from her shock, she noticed Elizabeth watching the exchange like a hawk, with an expression that was completely unreadable.

It was late in the night when the guests finally took their leave, and Elizabeth was more than ready to change into her nightgown and slip into bed. After a thorough debriefing session with Theodora, no doubt. But there was one thing to see to first.

She asked Captain Norrington for a word while a large group of the others were busy saying long goodbyes with her father, and Theodora was preoccupied with Mrs Spencer, and he complied easily enough. They retreated to the side of the drawing room, and Elizabeth took a moment to make sure that none were listening before she got right to the point.

"That was unkind. What you did tonight – and at a gathering meant to welcome her to our home, no less."

Huffing a laugh, he shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I suspect Miss Byrne wasted no time in rushing to you and relaying our entire conversation."

"Theo hasn't breathed a word of it, I suspect she'd much too embarrassed to do so. I overheard everything myself – I was standing not five feet away, speaking with Mrs Spencer."

Captain Norrington scoffed, shaking his head, but that was the extent of the argument he could offer. Well, until he had a moment to think, and then he spoke again with an eye roll.

"I gave her a book. One that I thought might interest her. How she chose to take that gesture is entirely her own affair."

"You caught her out under the guise of good will for all to see! Do you know what she's spoken of to me, openly, this week? Frequently, too, for that matter?"

"I dread to think."

"Your gentlemanly nature. Your kindness."

He faltered for but a moment, during which it looked like he might almost be vaguely tempted to feel guilty…before straightening and schooling his features back into a look of polite boredom.

"A ploy, no doubt."

"Captain, do you think me a simpleton?" Elizabeth asked frankly.

That got rid of the bored look. Norrington gaped at her. When one dark eyebrow rose at him as she waited for a response, showing she really did expect a response, he recovered – but not particularly quickly.

"Of course not!" he denied. "I never would. None could."

"So, in that case, might I ask why you think certain details regarding Theodora have escaped my notice? That I am blind to her oddities?"

"I…I only thought…you seem so taken with her…" he said, before frowning at her. "Surely you do not mean to say that your approval of her has been a façade this entire time?"

"Of course it hasn't, I like her very much."

"But you believe her to be a charlatan?"

"Oh, really, Captain Norrington," Elizabeth sighed impatiently, folding her arms. "There are many reasons why a woman of good birth and education might flee her home and disguise her identity, and few of them are rooted in that woman being a brigand."

The captain, to his credit, seemed to visibly take stock of her words and truly consider them, his face veiled in thought, his gaze downcast. Elizabeth felt then that it was safe to continue.

"And none of them," she pressed in a gentler tone, "may be discovered without kindness."

Looking suitably chagrined then, Captain Norrington was silent, and so Elizabeth felt it safe to continue.

"I do not think she hides nothing. Few can profess that. But whatever it is that she hides, I think it harms none, save herself."

His brow furrowed, and it was then that Elizabeth went in for the kill.

"I don't suppose you saw how she reacted when Groves gave her that fright?"

That was all it took. A simple question, asked softly, with the right tone. Elizabeth left him with that, excusing herself to rejoin the rest of her guests.

A/N: SO because some folk like the historical rabbit holes these stories take me down - while I was writing this chapter I was a bit worried because I remembered that, at some point in history, it wasn't legal for non-royals to wear purple, and I was oddly committed to the mental image of Theo in her lilac gown, so I went digging. Elizabeth I made it illegal during her reign in the mid 16th century (unless you were closely related to the royal family), and it was not legalised until after sumptuary Laws in England were repealed in 1604. Even after that, though, it still wasn't affordable for ordinary people until 1856, when they found a cheaper way of making the dye. But the Swanns aren't ordinary people, and so Theo gets her lovely purple gown.

Plus, I think it would be a nice message on Elizabeth's part as to how she expects Theo to be treated by the others like she's one of the gang, and it's a message that Theo wouldn't be aware of because she uhhhh doesn't spend her time researching historical tailoring laws so she can write fanfic about fictional dead men x

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