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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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H34v3nlie Måll: Elizabeth, James, Will, and Barbossa

Will Turner has found something worrying: a new shop that seems at first to be filled with rubbish, but is actually full of relics from the past of anyone who steps foot inside it. With large portions of their crews absorbed in the mall cinema that appeared overnight and frustrating their evacuation plans, Elizabeth, James, Will and Captain Barbossa investigate - raising the ghosts of their former lives from the figurative dead. And perhaps literally, too....

Only the need for public displeasure made doting on James impossible, with his tooth wrapped in a handkerchief in her pocket and him visibly wincing and testing out the empty space in his gums. Her good mood and his recent dental work very apparent to onlookers, the story was clear enough - enough being the operative word. There was as yet some disagreement on whether or not James Norrington had had this inflicted on him as a punishment. The overall atmosphere towards him was one of such cheerful, welcoming schadenfreude that Elizabeth even felt it permitted her to touch his face on front of the others. The motions made towards moving out of the mall and returning to the Pearl were of a less reassuring nature. There Elizabeth was disappointed, and found Teague and Barbossa in about as much of an unsteady mind as most of their collective crews. Only the reminder that they had still had crew waiting behind for them got them reluctantly into gear.

She did not know Teague so well as to form any opinion, but such sluggishness from Barbossa certainly did surprise her. She had never felt herself in this mall, either, but that made leaving all the more imperative. Yet if she did not have an active reason to prefer the Empress to this place - the promise of something like the honeymoon she had been denied - she wondered if she would be the same. Even the night before, when her faith in her future with James had been at its weakest, she had not felt up to leaving; the prospect of living full time as the Pirate King was too daunting.

There were other bad signs.

Large numbers of crew had gone missing, including her boys Pintel and Ragetti. This had been alarming until they were discovered in what was certainly a wing of the mall she and James had not mapped - she checked their maps. Amidst the rich aroma of warm butter they found a little cordoned-off section labeled TICKETS - and the strangest and most lifelike noises there. Even Elizabeth had wasted at least an hour staring up at a story more dazzling than any theater she’d ever been to, the images of people appearing flat against a hanging panel on the wall. She cheered for a man named Blood in a riveting duel against a Frenchman, and only succeeded in pulling herself out of it when she thought of how much she would have liked James to see it.

But she had gone to find James when she received a call, quite unexpectedly, from Will.

She almost did not answer it, but that was behavior she could not justify, and so with the deepest reluctance she picked it up.

“I know this isn’t who you want to hear from,” she picked out. There was overpowering static. It had never been unusual at sea, but she had made calls in the mall before without problem.

“Will? I can barely hear you-”

There was something else garbled, and she futilely called his name a few more times, before managing to pick up, “Do you know the J. C. Penney beyond the- furniture display-”

“The one at the end of the mall?”

“It’s not- the end-”

That, most ominously, was the most she got out of him before the connection was lost. More and more vexing. The only positive was running into James on her way there.

“Well,” he said, with a nod back toward what could be generously interpreted as the rest of the mall. “I seem to be back in their good graces- or in them for the first time, rather.”

“Yes, yes,” she said hastily. “I’ve just got a call from Will-”

“What is it now-“

“He said there’s a new store,” she said, wiping her hair off her forehead. “And that’s the second one today-“

“Considering the amount of fun this place seems to want to have with us, I’m not surprised,” he said darkly. As he spoke, he rolled up a small bit of cloth from his pocket and traded it for another wedged in his teeth, which was soaked through with blood. He threw this aside into a nearby rubbish bin.

“How’s that coming,” she said with a terse nod of her chin.

“Better,” he said. “It's going to do this for some time. You needn't worry, though Mr. Rivington of the Gloriana swore and announced that in his day a captain would have a man’s hair for that and never a tooth, so your reputation appears unassailed, if not bolstered.”

He smiled a little wryly at this, his spirits improved by the throbbing ache of a partially cracked tooth being replaced by the tolerable background pain of a patch of raw gum.

She gave him a wobbly smile.

They met with Will on their way to find him. Elizabeth momentarily wanted to cut her own heart out, seeing the way his was crushed upon seeing them together. She had to force it down.

“Another new stall?” she said, before pleasantries could make things worse. James, who had been about to speak, closed his mouth quickly and nodded his head.

“Yes. It’s - we’d be better off if I showed you.”

Will had just about turned to take them when he looked back again, with a squint on his face.

“Another new stall?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said grimly. “A quarter of us has been there half of the day. It carries nothing, but plays pictures - moving pictures, with sound and everything - like watching a play with musical accompaniment-”

“What, really?”

“It isn’t as marvelous as it sounds,” she insisted - and when faced with both of them looking awed and skeptical at once, ostentatiously shut her mouth, and began again, more timidly. “It is marvelous - but - isn’t that more of a concern?”

“I don’t know,” said Will. She knew he was of a serious nature in general, but his solemnity still gave her greater concern than anything else. “After you see this you can weigh which worries you most.”

The hall lights had started to grow dimmer as they approached. They could not be fully certain there had not been a hallway here before, but they were positive nothing had been in it. At first it seemed to be nothing - the tables by the windows were crowded with clothing, children’s toys, books, all ancient and weatherbeaten and broken and used. It was nothing so nice as anything else. Paper tags hung from everything with some scribbled price, some completely illegible.

A few more of their crewmates dug there, carrying things under their arms. One of her crew had a fan and a rug of visibly Chinese make under his arm and scurried past her as she ran out - it was her navigator. He looked up at her and then ducked his head and went off running. To get his brother, perhaps.

“It’s just junk,” said Elizabeth, perplexed, lifting and setting down a journal so old it was practically falling to pieces, a dull red stone gleaming on its cover its only draw to the eye. “What’s so much more alarming about this than moving pictures on the wall, I don’t know…”

She looked back up at Will, who looked half beyond her, white as death, and gestured to something with a quick, nervous gesture of the hand.

Elizabeth turned and looked, and gasped as though in pain.

“Will,” she said, without pulling her eyes away. “Can you - please go find the other Captains. Tell them I want the packing and leaving effort doubled - and if he has a moment, I want Barbossa down here. Please. As soon as possible…”

He didn’t answer, but she knew he nodded without having to look at him. She heard him leave, only barely - so stealthy and graceful it was second nature - and when he was gone it was as though the string that held her up was slashed.

Elizabeth grabbed the edge of an unremarkable chair in front of her and held it tight, knuckles white, to keep herself steady.

“Elizabeth?” James asked, putting his hand on hers.

Elizabeth shook her head, but took his arm so tightly it must have hurt him. She felt nothing. It seemed as though her fingers had gone numb. Finally she tore her eyes from it and sought his face.

“It’s my wedding dress,” she said.

James frowned and looked where she had been and saw it- pale yellow and cream silks, trimmed with gold, hung limply on some kind of wire hook instead of a dress form. He swallowed.

“Is it, now,” he said, when he could speak again.

Elizabeth looked like she’d seen a ghost, and then, abruptly, laughed when the irony of that simile occurred to her. It must have been a strange nervous bark to him.

“I would swear it. Will recognized it, too. I wonder-”

She looked around the shop as though scared to turn her head - rubbish though it might have been.

“Do you think everything in here,” she started doubtfully. “Blast, I wish I had thought to ask Ping before he left-”

“Whatever runs this place is in a panic,” said James. “It’s trying to trick you, that’s all. You see- ah, look, it’s as I thought. Do you see that locket, there?”

He gestured toward a little silver pendant hung carelessly off the edge of one shelf.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that contained a portrait of you that went down with Dauntless. It’s a trick, do you see? If it were truly the same locket, you would be in there. Watch.”

James plucked it from the shelf and popped the latch with his thumbnail.

“You see? There’s nothing in-”

He stopped.

The locket opened on a tiny oil portrait of Elizabeth at age 19 or so, a little clumsily executed and inaccurately proportioned, but Elizabeth nonetheless.

Elizabeth’s mouth felt dry.

“See how the painter tried to make me prettier,” she said throatily, gesturing to her own chin ineffectively.

“He wasn’t successful. It’s a poor likeness. Your head looks enormous,” he said. He shut it just as quickly and strung it back up.

She attempted to smile at him, but couldn’t meet his eyes. There was too much to take in, too much to see.

“It’s a trick,” he said again, though he sounded less convinced this time.

“It undoubtedly is a trick,” said Elizabeth, holding back tears. “But do you see that chair across the room? The one beneath the pile of quilts? Do you recognize it?”

“Your father’s study,” he said softly.

She stepped closer to him.

“Do you feel cold?”

“A bit,” he said. “They can’t bring up a whole ship.”

She took his hand, needily.

“We should leave. Barricade the place off for the time being.”

“You’re right,” she said.

“Get the others out,” he said, “by force, if we must.”

But when Elizabeth let go of his hand, she wandered further into the shop instead of leaving it.

“Elizabeth-”

How many of these things belonged to the men here, it was impossible to tell - none of them would have carried them on their person, any more than James would have kept that locket or she that dress. In fact she hadn’t kept that dress, not even to try and sell it in Tortuga, which might have been why it ended up here. A little cloth doll, a little tin officer, a hat, a rabbit’s foot, a pincushion in a picnic basket - and every other space was cluttered with equally sentimental bric-a-brac.

There was a bookshelf, she saw; she wondered if - she didn’t dare hope, but - yes, she saw it. All at once, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling flickered to life - one by one the candles rapidly lighting themselves. Elizabeth froze in fear with her fingers on the spine of one of Henry Morgan’s rough drafts - then, brazenly, she pulled the volume into her arms and opened it. There it was - Henry Morgan working on the Pirate Code of Conduct - annotations from a fifteen year old girl in the margins.

“Elizabeth,” James repeated as he came up behind her. “We need to leave.”

She showed him the pages. His brows popped up in surprise, but he tried to push the book back toward the shelf.

“God only knows if you can take it back with you.”

She let him put that volume away as with a gasp she recognized another far more precious to her. “James! It’s my diary!”

It was a swollen tome, stuffed with extra papers; a button and cord kept it closed, which Elizabeth now unlocked. Ominously, one sheaf fluttered to the floor; Elizabeth picked it up. The seal on the letter was broken; she opened it.

“Oh, my God-” James muttered.

It was his own handwriting.

Elizabeth was lost in reading it, her heart sinking and yet beating much faster as she did. She recognized this letter; she had read it three times for two lines alluding to the capture of a vessel and the execution of a pirate crew off the coast of Virginia and some ten more trying to find something in it worth replying to to keep up the correspondence - at that point for her father’s sake as much as or more than for James’. She remembered how she had felt about it and logged it away in her mind - her mind and certainly not her heart; she had been nineteen; she had thought him a dull homebody bored of all he had in his life that she envied him for, wishing to be doing dull things in Port Royal, unable to speak of anything but that most prosaic and dreaded of topics, the climate.

Again I iterate my fondest hopes for your health and happiness, & that of your father. You are often in my thoughts. We have had beautiful sunsets these last few nights. The moon has been full & the sky very cloudless; seeing the sun drop over the horizon I remember as one of your favourite views from Port Royal. You particularly enjoyd it at the docks, if you were permited to be out at such an hour. The night we went to Lady Cartwright's ball & your father permited me to escort you to your home & you persuaded me to take the longer route, which did not disappoint us in delivring a very beautiful sunset at sea. V. orange and pink, all the proper colors of a Caribbean flower, though I believe you wore a white flower in your hat that night. Yes, it was jasmyne; I recall the fragrance. Flowers are a privilige we lack at sea, so I must remember yours.

"Oh, God," Elizabeth said out loud.

I lack your flowers and you my oceans, though it seems an appropriate trade, doesn't it? But we have the same sunset and the same full moon in the sky. Please tell me what you were doing, if you remember it by the time you receive this; I should like very dearly to know if we saw the same sunset on the same night. I like to hope we did. Give some of my love to your father.

Yours truly, always,

James Norrington.

"I am an idiot," she whispered, with deep feeling.

“Elizabeth?”

James barely looked at the letter; he vaguely recalled writing it, but Elizabeth dominated his attention at the moment and he tried to move it aside.

“Elizabeth, it's all right- it's a trick, remember? I'm right here.”

She put her arms around his neck and held him tightly. James wasn't sure, exactly, what was going on, but he had just made out a pile of toys he remembered owning as a very small child on one shelf that he was almost certain had not been there a few minutes ago.

“We need to get out of here,” he repeated. “It's all right- walk with me-”

“Just give me a moment,” she said, pulling back only enough to cup his dear face - gently on the one side, very gently - and kiss him. He tasted of blood, but he satisfied her regret.

“Elizabeth?”

His smile was confused, and presently a little ghastly, but he returned the kiss, and joined it with another on her forehead.

“I love you,” she said in distress; “I love you…”

Just like he’d said in that letter, in every turn of phrase, without her knowing. But instead of leaving with him, she turned the pages of her old diary unhappily. There were mathematical equations; there was an unflattering sketch of her governess chaining her to a wall, like Andromeda, captioned to the effect of Elizabeth’s being thoroughly doomed (to continue her English history studies); a fond note from her father on her birthday that almost made her cry; a short, painstakingly printed letter from one William Turner that he would be making a delivery that day, which had been addressed to her father and to her - she had known it had only included her because had only been for her, and that succeeded; Elizabeth was wiping tears away when another letter revealed itself, an even crueler irony than James Norrington’s.

I love you very much, my darling and dearest Elizabeth - and it pains me to speak sternly to even those I do not love, but you have always urged me to be frank and honest, and you would love me less if I were not, which I could not abide; and so I see that I must be brave like you are, and attempt it. If you want to change your situation, and you are so desperately unhappy in yours now, you must marry. You have been raised to know this. All of the games of our childhood are behind us now. You have so much to look forward to! I have never known the great happiness I am provided by my dear and loving Jonathan. I only wish you could know an equal joy, and I believe you will. Please don’t speak any longer of running away. Your duty as a daughter begs you not to, for, even if you would not protect your father’s honor, surely you would protect his heart? Indeed you must take heart and have courage, and live the life you wish to life - that is all very good and true! You can and must do this through marrying. I wish I were there and could make you see your prospects as they truly are.

I do not share your conviction that Captain Norrington would ‘leave you on shore to rot’, as you put it, if you accepted him - and neither am I convinced Will Turner would make you so happy as you think. I know that it is nothing to you that he is a blacksmith; I daresay learning a trade alongside your husband is a draw to you and not a repellent; but a blacksmith will be much more at shore than a naval officer; he will craft swords and not use them; and if you marry him you will spend the rest of your life in Port Royal much as you dread you will already, and those society balls you so detest, you say, without me - a fact which I can well believe since you did not love them beside me, either! - you will only evade them because you will no longer be admitted to them. If there is a way to be bold while remaining proper, and ascertain whether or not Captain Norrington intends to take his wife to sea, surely you are the woman to discover it! And even if he has no such intention, which I doubt, if any woman could convince him, it would be you.

Elizabeth, I have spoken too much as a mother already, but as I close I find myself uneasy about your continued chest pain. Please trouble yourself to see a physician. I know that you are afraid of being labeled with one of those female ailments, and confined further to your house than you already feel you are, but it is not normal to experience such intensity in a complaint as you describe to me. As you love me, promise me you will. I would make you if I only could. Heaven knows how greatly I value you - my best friend through all the worst years of my life, who saw a beauty in me before any man did, my sister and soul - so protect yourself.

Always and forever, Amelia

Elizabeth struggled to press a quiet kiss to the closed letter; she was visibly distraught.

“Elizabeth?” James said again.

She pressed it silently into his hands. James frowned and opened it up again.

A moment into his scanning through it, his eyes softened. He folded it again and gave it back to her before folding her into his arms, against his chest.

It was a distraction - she wanted to go through those pages again, it hurt like an itch - but a relief. She sank against him with a heavy sigh.

“Come with me,” he said. “We need to go back.”

“I don’t know if I can do that right now,” she said, desperately wiping at her eyes. When the next thing they landed on was a handkerchief, she didn’t question it, though she saw the W. S. she’d embroidered in the corner afterward and snorted bitterly. “I can’t - I can’t be seen like this-”

James looked around for something that could shield her face. Predictably, yet alarmingly, an impeccable black cocked hat, trimmed with cloth of gold and ostrich feathers, slipped from the top of a clothes rack and hit the floor at their feet.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, his eyes uneasily alighting on a small oval portrait of a young woman in rather plain dress who was decidedly not Elizabeth. James reached out to try to turn it to the post on which it was hung, but it was no use. The portrait turned around on its wire, and Mrs Maria Fenton- black-haired, dark-eyed, skin a light brown and dressed in mourning- gazed back at them.

Elizabeth’s wet eyes darted from the painting to James and back again.

“Is it-?”

“Yes,” he said. “Before she set sail with us.”

“I think she’s very pretty,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he said as he tried to pull her away. “We should go-”

“Her portrait is better than mine,” Elizabeth said in a feeble stab at humor. She was still reluctant to leave. “I had Will send Barbossa here - I don’t want us to be gone when he comes-”

“It's trying to keep us here, that's what it wants- it's already hurt you, it's already transfixed you-”

“I’m just not ready,” she protested, holding his hands but digging in her heels. “I’m not ready to face all of that-”

“All of what? Elizabeth-”

“All of the rest of my life!” she shouted, fear naked in her face. “Look at it, it’s just been one mistake after the other -”

“I wrote that letter, and I'm here, right now, asking you to please come with me-”

“I will! Just give me a minute - James - please - please don’t make me walk out of here like this-”

Her voice had gone from a shout to a hoarse whisper in only two phrases, and she clung to his hands with tears in her eyes. James tightened his hold on her hands.

“Elizabeth- none of this is real. None of it-”

“How can you look around at this and say that,” she said, a tiny note of hysteria creeping into her voice - that kind that says I’m not crazy, why won’t you take my side?

“The portrait- it would have rotted underwater by now-”

“Maybe they came here, maybe it all came here first-”

“Then where's the ship, Elizabeth, where are the men?” James said, his voice growing hoarse with anxiety. “How is it going to give me my bloody hat back and not Dauntless-”

Elizabeth shook her head, increasingly frantic and faint. “I don’t - I don’t know, but- these things are real - even if - even if these aren’t the originals-”

“Then why- why these of all things? Why torture us with a life we cannot go back to and would not choose to if we could?”

“Maybe just a reminder- to be-”

Her voice was growing soft.

“To be grateful for -”

Elizabeth let go of James too quickly, stumbling back into the bookshelf and knocking something over. It landed open, of course. Elizabeth did not see it, though, pressing her hand over her heart, which was jumping. It felt full of shooting pain, and she didn’t feel strong enough to stand. In fact she had such an overpowering and irrational sense of distress and physical pain she started to cry.

“Elizabeth!”

James caught her and guided her down to the floor, where he knelt beside her.

“Elizabeth, what is it-”

“I’m so glad,” she managed to tell him. “So glad you’re still here to love me-”

James glared up, wild-eyed, at the nearest sailor, and barked at him to get some help, even as he pulled Elizabeth to his chest again.

“I am,” he said. “I've loved you for years-”

Her breathing came sharp; her hands were shaking, but she kept one pressed over her chest as though that could ease that pain. She felt helpless and miserable, and mortified James had seen it - she felt she had just undone herself for good. Having a woman’s ailment - kings do not have women’s ailments.

James, his own breathing heavy, pressed his hand over hers and leaned his head on hers.

“It's this place,” he said. “It's getting to us all.”

“I don’t think I can go,” Elizabeth moaned into his chest. “I don’t think - I don’t think I have any future when I leave here, and everything that’s happened here has only hastened my downfall-”

“We can't stay here,” James said. “Beckett's still out there, alive, and we're all that can match him. He killed your father, Elizabeth- we can't stay here-”

She tried to peep up at him, but she only managed to see a portrait hanging on the far wall - obscured earlier by dangling scarves, no doubt, but Weatherby Swann just the same. She tried to fold herself into the smallest piece of person possible and hide against James, but the tears returned all the same.

“Elizabeth,”James murmured, in a much softer voice now, “it wants you to give up. It wants you to feel helpless. You're braver than that, you're so much braver than this-”

“Give it a rest, boy,” another voice cut in. “Forgive me for my admittedly rather harsh assessin’ o’ the situation, but you may not be the best man t’be preachin’ a gospel of resilience.”

“Captain,” James said, with a short nod.

“Commodore,” said Barbossa.

Elizabeth’s head came up, streaked with tears and messy hair. She tried to pull air into her lungs, but she only managed to protest Barbossa’s name in a gasp for breath, and her attempt to stand up was frustrated by a concerned lover.

Barbossa’s arms were crossed over his chest. Today, it appeared he had discovered a jacket made of the same stiff blue material as nearly everyone’s trousers, trimmed with fleece at the collar and wrists.

“So,” he said. “Who’s going to explain to me what in the name of Triton’s left bollock is going on in here?”

“It’s a trap,” James began. “The place is-”

“Oh, come off it,” Barbossa groaned. “You should’ve learned by now that when I ask something among all assembled parties, I’m exceptin’ you.”

Elizabeth took a shallow breath and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.

“New shop-” she managed. “I’m - my heart is - “

The mortification of being discovered in such a state beyond helplessness by Barbossa, the man whose respect she most desired and whose displeasure she most feared, was almost enough to send her into a real fit of hysterics, but she focused on the ridiculousness of his fleece collar to draw her sanity from.

“It’s - subsiding, but-”

“Man alive, girl,” he said, in what approximated shocked concern where Hector Barbossa was concerned, “you ain't old enough for that!”

“It’s happened before,” she grumbled.

James pushed himself up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. Barbossa gave him a suspicious look.

“How about you? Did you know about this?” Barbossa asked, jerking his head toward Elizabeth.

“A nervous symptom is not a symbol of decline,” James said in stiff offense.

“Nobody said nothin’ about decline, handsome,” Barbossa retorted, somehow making the last word sound like an absolutely devastating insult. “Now, what's a junk shop got to do with any o’ this?”

Elizabeth picked up the Morgan journal and weakly pushed it at him. Barbossa glanced at it, at first in dismissal and then in amused interest, not noticing the letters that slipped out and fell to the floor.

“Well, ain't this a sight. Teague’ll want a look at it. What do you reckon it's doin’ here?”

“Look in the margins,” Elizabeth pressed.

A surprisingly accurate drawing of a swashbuckling teenage girl who caricatured herself with a rather big chin, wide mouth, small eyes and enormous amount of uncombed hair fought pirate doodles in the corners. She hadn’t dared to wish too hard, but the dress still showed a fair amount of flat bosom; that was the only detail she had gotten extremely wrong. Her sketches of pistols were terribly like sausages, unsurprising for a girl who was largely encouraged to draw close acquaintances and flowers only.

Fittingly, artistic license seafaring Elizabeth appeared to shoot at inksmudge-with-eyes assailants beside the coda on parlay. She had taken to drawing pistol-fire with great gusto and rather enormous clouds of smoke.

Barbossa scowled in order to not look disturbed.

“In considerin’ the circumstances, I’ll overlook the vandalizin’ of an important document,” he said. “Are you suggestin’ this place conjured this up from your old belongings?”

“There’s James’ hat,” she said pointing. “There’s Mrs. Maria Fenton. And my father over there. That - that there - is my wedding dress. Oh, look,” she said, in a perturbingly flat tone of disinterest. “Do you recognize that one?”

She was certain it hadn’t been there earlier, but draped across a beat-up and ornate chair was another familiar dress - rather older, the color of a wine stain.

“Look around. Recognize anything else?”

Barbossa followed her gaze, not noticing that James Norrington had lowered himself to the ground to look at the fallen letters.

“Mary’s blessed tits,” Barbossa muttered, eyes widening. “This be a new one, all right.”

Elizabeth wearily touched the top of James’ head - absent-mindedly, and not for long.

“I’ve been reading my old letters,” she said, her heart-beat still not returned fully to normal. “And all of a sudden I felt like to die. It’s improving though. Must be your excellent company,” she said drily.

James unfolded the letter. It was- already in disturbing defiance to the already faulty logic this place appeared to run on- one Elizabeth had sent to him.

My Dearest James:

Please promise that when you next make port in Port Royal you will leave with one sailor more than you arrived with. My father & governess & maid & each and every acquaintance agree that i look like a boy already, and i will listen to all of your orders, even the very dangerous & dirty ones, as long as you do not ever tell me to correct my posture or threaten to tie my back to a chair until I sit like a lady (which already sounds like one of your navy punishments, does it not? I may as well be there already). I wait your confirmation and only hope I am still alive to receive it for I am less & less certain every day that I shall live to see the next. Fondest -

Your Elizabeth

He remembered this one, and unfolded the accompanying letter with an increasing sense of expectant dread.

“Is that a recurrin’ affliction?” Barbossa asked.

“It was a long time ago,” said Elizabeth reluctantly, rubbing her chest as though it still ached (it did). “I’m sorry you saw it.”

“Don’t go apologizin’ to me. It’s you you’ve got to be looking after.”

My dearest, most cherished Elizabeth,

Your misfortunes do pain me. For what do I sail the seas if the cruelest injustices are meted out not by pirates, but by governesses? And against no mere stranger, but my dearest, shortest friend. (Not for long, I gather - your father mentioned having to update your warderobe to accommodate a growth spurt. Congratulations! Not for nothing are they training you to be a lady, you'll be one soon - and what a fright THAT prospect is. I am almost afraid to make port again.)

However, I shall not take you with me when I leave again, for a number of reasons.

1. Your father would not allow it, and so if I did, that would put a quick end to my career.

2. They would not train you so if they were not certain you would benefit by i one day, so I assume you won't make a convincing lad much longer. Condolenses.

3. You would terrorise my crew and bully my captain, and

4. Your knots were always abyssmal.

Try to practice either the knots or the posture a little better before we meet again, my girl.

Best wishes,

James Norrington

As James lifted his head, he realized with a start that there was someone crouching under the loaded table Elizabeth and Barbossa stood talking in front of- probably a crew member embarrassed to be rifling through the shop when the king and her dog had arrived. Elizabeth and Barbossa both seemed distracted enough that James crept forward on all fours to dismiss the eavesdropper.

As he moved closer, so did the person under the table. James made a quick gesture for them to get out, but they continued forward, one hand coming forward into the light in a dark blue woollen sleeve, trimmed with gold braid at the cuffs.

James’s frown deepened. He looked up at the eavesdropper’s face and suddenly, too abruptly to make it without stumbling back, jumped to his feet again, heart pounding.

“James?” asked Elizabeth, the sudden motion - and the fact that it was James, who did not start readily - creating havoc for her heartrate all over again. Not caring about the presence of Barbossa, she held him tightly. “James, what is it?”

“I saw-”

He bent down to see if it- he?- was still down there, and saw only his own startled face looking back from a rust-spotted mirror propped up under the table.

He exhaled and shut his eyes. “Never mind. It was a mistake. I’ll tell you later.”

Barbossa looked at him suspiciously. “Been drinking again?” “No,” said James, without much feeling.

“I pulled his tooth out,” said Elizabeth. “It came loose in the fight with Will yesterday.”

That was delivered with a mild kick to James’ posterior; his ego would feel it most. Nonetheless, things were so unsettled at the moment that it was meant to lighten the mood.

“What did you find down there, anyway?”

“Letters,” said James, who was glad to change the subject. “Between you and I.”

Barbossa rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth wilted. “What now?”

James held them out to her. “We were both much younger then.”

It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be; they made her laugh. She tried to show them to Captain Barbossa, as a cat tries to make a gift of a dead bird, and he gave them a token glance-over and a strained smile befitting any indulgent but less than enthused cat owner.

When she moved to put them back into the diary - she wasn’t certain why; she knew they were not real, yet she couldn’t help but treat them as though they were fragile keepsakes - she looked surprised to find a third letter in her hand, overlooked by both James and herself. There was an ink sketch of the view of the beach from Elizabeth’s old bedroom that gave her a powerfully disorienting sense of homesickness and misery, and beneath it, a letter she had long since forgotten.

Everything you describe sounds so grand. I picture it vividly in my mind - the heated smell of gunpowder, the salt of the sea air, the deafening noise - and the swelling in your chest as your survey the end of it, victorious - and grieving too; it must be such a tumult of feeling! No man is more deserving, father and I both agree, of a promotion; you must make captain soon. No excuses! I speak to the Admiralty, you understand. In my heart I know it cannot be long. And father - and I, and all of Port Royal - are so proud of you.

I wish that I were on another journey, as like the passage from England was, over sea, with a fine young officer to teach me how to tie knots. I still remember the constellations you showed me. It was a night I could not sleep; you had only time to point out two. I don't suppose you recall all that. I must have been such a dreadful brat to you. But as a mourning child your kindness was never forgotten. Who could have imagined we would be such dear friends so many years later? I think if you had told me then, though, I would have believed it.

I wish I had those constellations back. I have the dances, the small talk, the music, the flowers, the dinners, the hair styles - oh, my word, so many hairstyles - and the shoes, the corsages - but never the stars, it seems, hang above my head just to spite me though they will. I envy your stars and your ocean. At least tell me of them, and then it will be almost like they are mine too.

The illustration of her view of the beach had signified a comparison between his view and hers - hers being pitiful next to his, she had thought then; the first page of the letter was missing. Yet it seemed intimate now; the closest he would have ever come to a view of her bedchamber; she had even kept in the windowsill; the curtains, crosshatched, a suggestion of lace flowers.

The rest of the letter was also missing; she was certain there had been a pencil of her father in there too, and a half-hearted attempt at her own likeness, which he had intimated in his letter he would like to see, in response to her saying she had been practising likenesses but had been her own best model. It had been done by candle, late at night, after she could not sleep; she remembered being more in shadow than out of it, but it had aided the impression of accuracy enormously.

What an encouragement it must have seemed at the time; she had not considered it from that angle. He had still been like a brother to her, though she had never liked him so much - and until recently she had never liked him so much since, either.

It sunk her spirits again. She penitently handed it over to James.

James allowed his fingers to brush over hers as he took it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I need to talk to you in private.”

“Just a moment. Captain Barbossa,” she said, turning only to discover he was no longer waiting impatiently for her to leave; he had something in his hand. Weary with dread, she repeated, “Captain Barbossa?”

When he looked over his shoulder at her, Barbossa’s eyes were, shockingly, wet.

She said nothing, but the tactful alarm in her eyebrows spoke for her.

“It’s her dress,” he said. “It’s me little Polly’s dress…” Elizabeth’s sense of personal distress for him increased exponentially. She was on the verge of apologizing for his daughter when she saw the proportions of it. It was only somewhat a relief.

“She drowned near twenty years ago,” he said, choking back a sob. “She never did no one any harm-”

“Oh, another monkey,” James said in sudden, relieved understanding.

“More’n a monkey,” Barbossa snapped. “She was me own little girl. The only little girl I got to keep.”

Elizabeth and James exchanged a look at that, Elizabeth breaking it too quickly to be seen.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from them, dropping the long-dead monkey’s frothy little court dress on the table and walking toward the door, pausing only to look at the decaying journal with its ruby-encrusted front and making a noise like a wounded animal as he flung it down and hurried out in an uncharacteristic transport of grief.

“This place really is getting to us,” James said, watching him go. Unexpectedly - but producing a rather more normal state of surprise in Elizabeth - Will Turner leaned around the door, looking more spooked than normal.

“You can say that again,” he said, and, looking nervous at the prospect, walking back in.

Elizabeth hadn’t realized Will was still there, but she was very nearly relieved to see him, and had left James’ side to go to him before she realized what she’d done and stopped.

Will had never been excellent at concealing his feelings - all the more reason to be more shocked when it turned out he had been more than capable of doing it, she supposed bitterly. But now he made no such attempt, looking around the room with his jaw set tight, hoping not to recognize anything - and failing, she believed clearly.

“What is it?” she asked softly. Contextually, it might have seemed like a question about his mood; but he knew she meant what his eyes had fallen on, even though she couldn’t tell for certain that they had.

“A chair,” he said shortly. “Stool, really. It was in my mother’s kitchen. I remember sitting in it the day she died, putting my head in my arms, my arms on the table - not moving. A neighbor came and cooked something for me. An old woman… I’ve forgotten her name. I wish I hadn’t. She was the kindest…”

Will broke off, flatly. He lifted a brooch from one among many, with a flat expression and a shrug.

“Well, she wore this on her fichu that day. I remember that part.”

Elizabeth had shyly joined him by now, though she stood on the other side of the table.

“I’m surprised your father’s medallion hasn’t turned up by now.”

“Ha. Maybe even this place can’t conjure up those. Maybe their magic was greater…”

Elizabeth lifted a necklace, thin and delicate gold chain with one beautiful pearl, sighed, and lowered it again. Will placed his hand over hers a moment, as though to keep it down - or to touch her, possibly. As though he came to the same conclusion, he removed it with a stiff awkwardness.

“It’s getting better at finding our weak spots,” Will said, his voice low, but certain.

“Are you afraid of its overhearing you?” asked Elizabeth wryly. “It’s all around us now. I don’t suppose the volume of your voice matters.”

“No, you’re probably right,” said Will, with a quiet laugh. “Perhaps I don’t want to overhear myself. I hate thinking about it. It’s trying to keep us here, I imagine. Though I don’t know how this is going to help. As likely as anything it will make us hate the place.”

“It doesn’t want us to like the place,” Elizabeth countered. “We just have to stay here. That’s what James thinks.”

“Turner,” said James, from a few feet away.

He had his hands clasped behind his back as he approached, all business.

“Am I to call you Norrington?” asked Will, voice so subdued he nearly did not sound as though he were baiting him. Elizabeth put her hand on his arm at once, and some of Will’s tension dropped away with a small, self-conscious, visible twinge of shame.

James was visibly unamused, but he held out his hand regardless.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

Elizabeth’s relief and surprise were their own punishment. Will took his hand, less surprised than she was, but more visibly glad of it.

“Seems that I owe you the same,” he said. “It was…. Self-destructive and foolish to demand the heart. I should have petitioned you, Elizabeth,” he said, turning to her when the handshake was relinquished, with his voice growing unconsciously soft.

“I would have told you no,” said Elizabeth firmly, but warmly. Will snorted a gentle laugh, but it was assenting.

“Then I would have chased you all over the mall,” he warned her - unable to conceal a smile.

Her own was equally unconscious.

“You’d be a sorry man if you caught up to me,” she returned in kind.

“Perhaps it would be he who lost a tooth,” James cut in.

“You lost a tooth?” asked Will, instantly humbled. “I am sorry - I didn’t realize I hit you that hard.”

James smiled just enough to show the wad of gauze where his tooth should have been and abruptly closed his mouth again before he added, a little more graciously, “It wasn’t you, exactly. It was the final straw for an older injury I sustained in Tortuga.”

“I’m still sorry, but rather less,” said Will, with a smile that was too sincere to be sly, though it approached it. Elizabeth was watching his face without realizing it.

“It comes with choosing a side,” said James. He averted his eyes, and immediately regretted it, greeted as he was by Elizabeth’s wedding dress.

“I pulled it out myself,” Elizabeth was saying, her voice soft and low; Will leaning in unconsciously to better hear it. “Pair of pliers, hardware store.”

“I tremble to think of it,” Will responded. “That’s something I’ll miss when we leave. I took a few things, but all of the things I’d really like to take would be too heavy when we swim back to shore in our - in the real world.”

“Yes, we’ve been having the same trouble. The furniture’s good here, but…”

James, eyes averted, forced himself to tune them out. A floorboard creaked at the back of the store and he turned his head in its direction.

“ - not that I really need that many pairs of trousers -” A self-conscious, adorable laugh.

“You wear them well,” Will responded, respectful and fond. “I hope you’re happy in them; you used to hate sparring in that old dress.”

“Yes! Oh, God’s name - is that -”

Elizabeth crossed to the other side of the table to pick something up by the handle, which she had only just now seen, sticking out from beneath an old blue coat.

“It is!” said Will, taking it before she did, lifting it up to admire it. Not half so nice as the one her father had commissioned, but sturdy and fine - and blunt. “I remember making this for you.”

She touched his arm again, this time her hand sinking into the crook of his elbow comfortably. His eyes met hers and rested there.

“ - May I?”

“ - oh - of course -”

With Elizabeth preoccupied and the apparition under the table still weighing on his mind, James stepped slowly, cautiously toward the back of the store. There was a creaking and shuffling from behind a rack of old clothes, as though someone were walking around back there. The clothes themselves ruffled lightly.

James stopped partway there and leaned down to peer under the rows of clothes.

There was a pair of legs on the other side- small, in greyish stockings and heavy shoes. Rationally, it was one of Barbossa’s children- a girl, probably, dressed up in boys’ clothes.

James wasn’t sure.

He reached out toward the shelf, anticipating by now that the store would answer him with what he was thinking of- and sure enough, his hand closed over the wooden handle of a pistol. Single shot, naval issue.

James opened the chamber. It was loaded.

“Come on out,” he said. “You shouldn’t be in here. It’s- unhealthy.”

Towards the front of the store, neither of the Turners - former and present - had noticed he was gone.

Will had found one of his other practice swords, and slowly lifted it for Elizabeth to block.

“Good- that’s very good.”

“Hard to mess up when you’re going so slow-” she countered, with a cautiously quicker lunge at him - he blocked it, of course.

“There’s hardly space enough to go faster -”

“If it were a real duel, we’d have to adapt to the space.”

“True enough.”

And soon Elizabeth was hitting a table and disrupting it, knocking several things off it with a heavy thud - from the table - and a giggle, from herself.

“Careful! Are you hurt?”

“Not at all. Will?”

The clang of the practice swords made his heart float, as he thought it wouldn’t again. This was familiar. He knew this feeling. He knew this sound. And he knew this woman - his Elizabeth again, not the Pirate King, not another man’s lover -

“Yes?”

“Do you think - perhaps I could commission - we used to discuss it -”

He almost got the sword away from her, but Elizabeth tossed a scarf into his eyes and got away from him while he pulled it away, laughing.

“- a sword for me, the guard shaped like a folded pair of swan’s wings - I think I’d like that.”

Clang. Clang. They’re kissing, Elizabeth used to say.

“I think I’d like that too -”

The figure behind the rack paced a few steps to the side, with a strange squelching sound. James leaned down again.

Whoever it was, they were soaking wet and dripping water. It squeezed from their shoes as they turned and paced back another few feet.

James’s pulse sped up. He closed the chamber on the gun again, took a deep breath, and parted the clothes on the rack.

The store echoed uncommonly, didn’t it? It rang with the sounds of two swords striking each other again and again, and Elizabeth’s laughter, as sweet a sound as a bell. Too small a space for echoes, and too small a space for sparring, too - they got tangled up together too quickly. Will managed to knock her sword aside, his own sword playfully at her throat. But she didn’t end it there, out of breath, caught between a smile and a thought - a dream, really - looking at him with an odd expression, like she’d had a revelation.

Will lowered his sword. “Elizabeth,” he said.

James Norrington came running, leaping over a table and clearing it of half its possessions - then skid along the floor deftly, without falling.

“We have to leave now-”

Will lifted the blunt training sword to attention at once, frowning in the direction he’d come from.

But James grabbed them both by the first surfaces he could grab, the pistol already abandoned, and started hurrying them toward the door.

“James, what is it?” asked Elizabeth, trying to keep up with him, but still rather disoriented. “And- wait- James, I wanted to keep-”

They had already been hauled out of the storefront by the time she managed to get that out, and for the life of her, she could no longer remember what she wanted - only the sense of wanting it, and wanting to go back in for it.

“What’s the matter with you-”

James looked, wild-eyed, over his shoulder at the distant storefront, as a little white face and two little white hands pressed against the glass window, water dripping from where they made contact.

Elizabeth let out a short scream and clapped her hand over her mouth.

He pulled them both another few yards away.

“Whatever else happens,” James said, trying and failing to conceal the tremble in his voice, “no one is to go back there. We ignore it, we pretend it doesn’t exist-”

When he looked back over his shoulder, the figure was gone.

Will Turner took Elizabeth - grip strong, but not rough - by the arm and hurried her, with Norrington, down the hallway until they had reached the part of the mall that was brightly lit again, whereupon, as a group, they stopped, all pale and shaken - Elizabeth pulling out her phone with a trembling hand to glance at the time. No wonder her legs felt as unsteady as they did; they had been hours in that store, and they hadn’t eaten.

“It was your cabin boy,” Will surmised, eyes meeting Norrington’s as Elizabeth scrolled her phone, the bright light of the screen making her look even more exhausted. “Wasn’t it? From the Dauntless.”

James looked at him, about to angrily retort something at him before he realized what he had actually said.

“...yes,” he said. “Georgie Bingham. He was- he was only ten years old.”

“I’m sorry,” said Will, the weight of it in his eyes. They rested on Norrington’s only a moment longer, but it was enough. He glanced over the mall; after the dim gas lanterns of the haunted storefront, the brightness of the rest of this place felt ghastly and artificial. It looked like something that had had the blood sucked out of it.

“We have to get out of here, don’t we,” he muttered.

“Does the number 403 mean anything?” asked Elizabeth Swann suddenly. She hadn’t been listening, but now she glanced up from her phone in annoyed confusion.

James looked sick.

“Oh, God-”

She continued to scroll her phone.

“Some number I don’t know has been texting me that for nearly three hours.”

“We have to get out of here-”

Elizabeth looked at him; he looked nauseated. She met Will’s eyes. In spite of her hunger and overall physical exhaustion - she felt as though Will had done much worse than merely spar with her, which was uncomfortably hard to explain - it still seemed as though her mind was clearing. She took James by the hand gently, then looked at Will.

“Tell Teague we’re leaving. I’ll get Barbossa.”

He nodded. They had no time to waste.

Wet footprints glistened on the linoleum stretch behind them, growing drier as the light grew brighter, fading into nothing.

#potcsuggestions #jackquest 1748 #pl: h34v3nlie måll #ch: firing squad #ch: turn down for what #ch: come on barbie let's go party #ch: her majesty if you're nasty

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

Text

H34v3nlie Måll: James & Elizabeth

After Elizabeth is forced to break up a fight between him and Will Turner, her relationship with James is tested. The matter of punishment comes under scrutiny, as well as the success of their relationship. More ominously, the atmosphere of the mall itself seems to be getting to them as they contemplate past regrets and speculate on the hope they have for their future.

CW: Long post with mild arguing, hairbrushing and reminiscing, but it’s safe to read. Loss of a tooth comes up, as do needles (in the context of tattooing) for the squeamish, and a personally humiliating suggestion for punishment is brainstormed but soon dismissed.

The way to Macy's was far more full of onlookers than James had either expected or desired. The teens from the Pearl mostly guiltily avoided looking at him, but the non-Chinese enlistees to the Empress and even some of the Gloriana’s crew hooted and shouted vulgar suggestions of how a good dog could earn his mistress’s forgiveness, made fists and jerked their hips forward in rhythm. A few of the Chinese sailors, who had only been informed by Tai Huang that both James and Turner were up a creek with the King, but hadn't learned the details yet due to both the language barrier and Tai Huang’s disinterest in discussing the King’s love life (or even thinking about it if he could avoid it), caught the meaning of the gesture and laughed as well. One man caught his eye and howled like a dog, with a strangely languid jerk of his shaven head and his hand trailing back from brow to ear that James belatedly realized was a mockery of his own attempts to keep his hair out of his eyes while Elizabeth raked them over the coals.

Turner had to have been talking to these people. Turner would have been seen as the ideal person with whom to share every mocking thought the crews had had about a man they saw as their King's frivolous, rum-sodden, good-looking but utterly brainless professional failure of a kept man. Turner, he knew, probably took this in in silence, with the occasional pained grin of validated dislike, but it was as though James’s rival had granted the power to read minds and suddenly made it impossible to ignore a single demeaning thought that ever made itself visible crossing their faces.

He had stopped in front of them without realizing it, and quickly looked away as he hurried along.

Macy's itself was blessedly empty- Elizabeth had probably ordered everyone else to keep out. Their bed in Macy’s, on the other hand, being empty, was more of a curse or an ill omen. He stood there a moment, wondering helplessly if she had changed her mind, when he heard her clearing her throat behind him and turned.

Elizabeth had taken to wearing the garb of a honeymoon for him, on the nights she wore anything at all, but at the moment she was still nearly entirely dressed - she wore slippers and the first layer of her clothing, but it was not an inviting outfit.

It also did much to suggest she had not had a very excellent evening. It was late now, and she had visibly not approached the matter of sleeping. She stood and watched him warily with shadows under her eyes, hands on her hips confrontationally.

“Captain,” she intoned.

“Elizabeth,” he said, in such a low voice it came out breathy.

“Run the gauntlet, I expect,” she said, gruff but charitable.

“I’ve run a gauntlet before,” he said. “This was more like being tarred and feathered.”

“You see how this poses me a problem,” she said, approaching the bed, but giving him a wide berth as she did.

“If you need to punish me before them, do it,” he said. “Trust me, they won’t assume I enjoy it when they’re actually looking at it.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, I see. Flog you for your benefit, so they will stop telling stories of how the King’s dog likes it rough-”

“I didn’t mean flogging alone. I could make a list of naval punishments, though I don’t relish the thought.”

“If it had been any other two men in a fight over some valuable, that caused mild property damage and involved toy weapons,” said Elizabeth in growing agitation, “it would be nothing and require no punishment - nothing but stern words and the mockery of the crew! But it was you. It was you and Will. The only men on this expedition who can compromise my reputation, both of you were involved, and contextually it looks like you were fighting over me.”

And she spoke over any interruption about the heart of Davy Jones with a fierce, “And now if I do nothing, it looks like I want to encourage it!”

“You did strike me,” James said stiffly. “That could be turned into a warning.”

“I have been trying to think of a way to spin this so that nothing further must be done,” said Elizabeth, holding onto a bed post and leaning against the footboard to look at him. “I have considered things.”

“...and?” James asked uneasily.

“I will have the two of you working together as we head out,” she said, tossing her hair and holding herself steady as possible, though she looked as brittle as she felt. “Not in positions of command. I expect you both feel as stupid as you should feel about what you’ve done and will manage without another squabble breaking out, and in the meantime everyone else can - and likely will - remind you of how well you’re regarded at the moment, without my having to do the reminding.”

“How do we know he's going to stay with us? He’s not particularly nautically inclined-”

“I’m aware,” she said shortly. “He’s here for now, and will be treated like the rest of you.”

“No passengers. I see.”

James swallowed and nodded.

“Thank you, then.”

“I’m not done.”

“Ah,” said James.

“I think some reference to our bedroom is in order.”

He frowned. “I don't follow.”

“I mean I think I have to let on that I fuck you.”

“As though they didn't figure that out before we did-”

“We haven’t exactly encouraged the rumor,” she pressed on in irritation, crossing her arms.

“I already know how they think of me.”

“If I want this to continue I have to establish that it does not unman me to do so,” she insisted. “Do you understand what I am telling you at all?”

“I know exactly what you're saying,” James sighed. “Fine. It's only making the truth explicit anyway.”

“I would like your permission to do so!”

“Then you may have it. You didn't force me to ask for your cock as a Christmas gift-”

“I know I didn’t,” she replied indignantly, eyes stinging.

“Tell them whatever you need to, then,” James muttered. “You have my permission. I’m glad, at least, to not find myself banished from your bed altogether.”

“Oh, indeed, you seem very pleased to be here-” said Elizabeth, turning around and walking away from the bed display entirely.

“I didn’t want to try my luck,” James protested. “I had already managed things badly enough today that I didn’t think it wise to come at you melting in relief and taking you into my arms-“

She stomped back again.

“Well? Are you glad or aren’t you?” she demanded.

“I’m ecstatic,” he said, his voice fervent yet his face motionless.

Elizabeth blinked back angry tears and kissed him. James’s shoulders released with relief as he kissed her back, pulling her into his arms. Elizabeth continued to kiss him as though her guiding passion at the moment were rage, but she clung to him like she thought he would let her go.

“I thought I had lost you,” he whispered.

“It would serve you - right, God damn you-”

“I know. I know, love-”

Elizabeth pulled him back to the bed with her, needing to feel him, to be held. Every time the stress of this became too much she wanted him to hold her, and when he was the cause of that stress, she was too angry and lonely to think.

“Wait- I brought you something,” said James. “Fortunately, it survived the fountain, and dried just as well. It's far overdue.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something thin and dark and bound at one end. He pressed it into her palm and curled her fingers over it.

Elizabeth looked down at it in surprise, then let out a miserable noise and buried her face against his chest. After a moment, she lifted her hand and kissed the lock of his hair in her palm.

James kissed her forehead.

“When we're back,” he murmured, “I want to have yours sewn into my coat, over my heart.”

“Do you now,” she sighed, shutting her eyes. It seemed to be in exhaustion, hardly pleasure.

“I hope to never be so apart from you to need the reminder, but yes. I do.”

“Rather silly, don’t you think? It’s just hair. It’ll be all split ends-”

“I don’t mind it,” he laughed. “You wear it well. You’ve seen what becomes of mine when left it its devices.”

“Oh, please, regale me with another complaint about your hair,” said Elizabeth.

He laughed. “I’m sorry. If it’s any reassurance, I’m quite pleased with it now.”

“Yeah, you said you cut it,” she said, reaching up to touch it with a pained smile. She had moved to lay down in his lap now and look up at him; the anger seemed to have left her, at least, but it had left in its place a terrible exhaustion that made her seem delicate and weary, like a battered old love note kept in a pocket as a charm. The light did not help. It was eerie and dim after nightfall, making everyone look sickly.

“I wanted you to win me a toy with the claw machine,” she said wistfully.

“I would be thrilled to win you a toy from the claw machine,” he said, leaning back to hold her better.

“We’ve got to leave tomorrow. Lord, James, I don’t know if we can really do this.”

“We’ll have to put Sparrow in a cage to pull it off,” he scoffed. “That’s the difficult part.”

“No, James. When we leave. This king business. I’m afraid I can’t make good on any of my promises to you - again.”

James frowned up at the tiled ceiling.

“Which parts?”

“Our wonderful, terrible reputations. I think I am going to be remembered as a silly girl forever - Sao Feng’s concubine and Barbossa’s too if I am very unlucky - how can I rehabilitate yours if mine is going to fall apart? I can’t keep a hold on anything; it’s like grasping at a reflection on the water.”

“Perhaps mine is not to be rehabilitated, if it is to save yours,” he said, in a low, pensive voice. “If I am to be unmanned to ensure you are not, that’s probably just the way things ought to be.”

“I don’t think that a weak and feeble pirate king - barely a pirate at all, an upstart from the governor’s mansion - is going to be much of anything to anyone just because she knows how to wield a dildo-”

She laughed, but underneath it was a terrible breath of bitterness and resignation.

“Then we'll find a target for you to conquer,” said James, “and you will conquer it. You've commanded a fleet before.”

“I just don’t think I can do this. I don’t know that I can maintain it.”

“I have faith in you, Elizabeth.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Far more, I might add, than I have in my own reputation.”

She extended her fingers to brush along his cheek.

“Mmm, you trimmed.”

“I hope you don't mind,” he said, tilting affectionately into her touch. “I may have turned pirate but I'm not about to grow some kind of sea-dog beard.”

“No, I quite like this.”

“Thank you. Someone among the men around here ought to give a damn.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her head to the side, looking out over the dim Macy’s and its displays, which took on monstrous characteristics after the lights went out.

“Thank-you, Captain Norrington, for your expert sartorial opinion, shall you inspect their nails, while you are at it-”

“That's for the armorer, with how many here use them as weapons.”

Elizabeth covered her mouth to try and stifle a giggle. Being as tired as she was, she failed.

“I never did have much opportunity to think of these things for myself, you know,” he said wistfully. “I'm beginning to enjoy it.”

She reached up to stroke his cheek again. He had found a marvelous balance between bearded and well-groomed; she wanted him to know she had noticed.

James smiled down warmly at her.

“How's your head?”

“My head? I’m not the idiot that got into a brawl today.”

“You've been crying,” he reminded her.

“I have not,” she said, stiffening.

“I thought you had. I'm sorry-”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Captain,” said Elizabeth, sitting up icily.

“On the contrary. It's a relief to know you have not. I mistook your few tears earlier for something else.”

She was pulling her hair to the side and finger-combing it with something too glacial to be sullenness. “Hmm?” she interrogated, sounding bored.

“Never mind. I'm glad you're well. I thought I had done yet more unrealized damage‍.”

“Well,” Elizabeth said flatly. “Yes, after a manner I am just fine.”

She did not sound it, nor did she have any intention to.

“After a manner,” James repeated, unconvinced.

“Well, what do you expect?” she said with a renewed stoniness, a wall seeming to come down between them in her eyes. “After what you two put me through today - I am going to be lucky if they keep their whispers and their taunting where I cannot hear it - ”

“That’s my fault,” he sighed, “not his. Turner’s… well, the world has a very strange sense of humor.”

“I am not laughing.”

“He’s not a pirate,” James blurted, “and…” James swept his hand up toward his face in a bitter little jerking motion.

“The irony is rather thick, that’s all.”

“May the irony protect me, then, from reprobation,” she said too sweetly, with a fluid, facetious hand gesture to imitate a bow. “I believe I’m going to go to sleep now-”

“All you need say for him is that he’s out of your jurisdiction,” he said, a little tersely. “That leaves the fault with me. He’s… he’s not coping well, Elizabeth.”

“Oh,” she said, and froze.

It was all she could think to say. It was not a surprise, if he and James were going to brawl about it, but to hear it from James himself filled her with foreboding - like the hull of a ship fills with brackish water.

“In Cuba,” said James, “when I thought you had gone back to him, Barbossa came and spoke to me.”

Elizabeth looked over and up at him, hands curled beneath her face half as though in supplication. She could think of no words, not now, but the enormity of her eyes asked the question for her.

“To offer his condolences, allegedly.” He scoffed at this. “To reason that perhaps it wasn't meant to be.”

He sat and leaned forward instead, elbows to knees.

“Of course, he had another idea of how I could still serve you.”

James tipped his head toward her duffle bag.

Elizabeth’s mouth opened.

“He didn’t,” she said in anger and indignation, despair swelling in her chest like a hard intake of air, knowing full well that he had - that he had made the same suggestion to her, well before Will had shown up.

“I told him I would do no such thing unless it was by your command,” he said. “Now the situation has reversed and Turner has already made the same choice on his own. If Barbossa gets through to him- well.”

Real fear flickered across her features.

“God help me,” she said faintly. “I couldn’t live with it.”

“That was the cause of our…clash this afternoon,” James said solemnly.

“I have to - “ Elizabeth started to leave in visible agitation, but instead of getting out of the bed, when her feet hit the floor, she turned her head abruptly and looked at James, feeling sick. “God - what can I do? How do I convince him?”

“We have to find a way to bargain with Jones, first of all- if such a thing even exists. Elizabeth-”

She turned her back to him, anxiously wrenching her hair over her shoulder and tugging on it in a poor imitation of taking care of it.

“You were the only one I cared about knowing I possessed the heart,” James said softly. “The only one. I swear it. It wasn't about power, it was- the way you whispered of it in bed with me-”

It took her a moment to understand what he meant by this - it was an abrupt change of pace from what her mind had been racing about.

“You didn’t say that to him, did you?” she demanded, voice clipped.

“Of course not,” said James.

“I don’t even remember that,” she went on coolly.

“You were having a bit of a moment,” he admitted. “I don’t take it as a particular compliment outside of that… specific context, shall we say-”

“ - ah,” she said, coloring slightly. She had not recalled it, but she could now imagine it, which was almost worse.

“You asked me how it felt to be the most powerful man on the ocean, possessing both Jones’s heart and your own. Well, I’m not,” he said, leaning back on the heel of one hand now. “That’s you, for one. But I… I did feel you loved me rather better for it, at times. That’s all. He felt it was a matter of ensuring the others tolerate me, and I daresay that’s you as well.”

“James,” she sighed, voice ragged. All the same, a note of reluctant, aching fondness had entered her tones. “What am I going to do with you, you’re hopeless.”

“I’m afraid it would be insubordinate for me to make any suggestions,” he said dryly, “lest they be taken as facetiousness.”

“Shall I grant you permission,” asked Elizabeth, stretching warily out on the bed, leaning on her stomach and elbows, hair falling tangled down her back.

“You could always claim it was your idea to take the Gloriana from me. You gave it to two women to further put me in my place.”

Elizabeth groaned, leaning her face into her hands a moment in contemplation. “You realize, I suppose, that that implies it is demeaning to lose to women.”

“Not inherently,” said James, “but most of them have guessed what we do in bed together. They would probably view it as an extension of… well, that.”

“We’ve only done that once,” she said with a snort, rubbing the side of her nose with her thumb.

“They don’t know that. Without a ship, you might even go so far as to start calling me commodore again-”

“Are you saying you want to be a commodore again? Am I to demean you or to promote you,” she asked wearily.

“When it no longer carries any meaning, I think it becomes an insult in itself. I don’t know. Thinking about being addressed by that rank feels like putting a finger into an open wound.”

Feels like it, but isn’t.

“Suppose it’s worth considering,” Elizabeth murmured with her eyes shut. She leaned in to rest her face in her hands a moment.

“Or perhaps merely ‘King’s dog’,” he said, musingly.

“You’re already my dog,” she said a little testily. Her voice was muffled against her hand. Am I to demean you or promote you?

She concentrated on the small, unsettling background noises of the storefront, and hastily refocused on James’ breathing.

It all came back to the simple, amusing little truth that she did not want to punish him, but to be lax as an authority figure where her mistress was concerned would not do very well. She and James had wanted to be at sea and cementing their reputations by now, but they were on the Jack Odyssey and God only knew when they would be able to leave - it was imperative she maintain a grip on that authority here and now.

“James,” Elizabeth said, opening her eyes and lifting her chin, rubbing her face in exhaustion. “I need a public spectacle. I need you humbled - if not humiliated.”

James had already been still, but his back stiffened, like a wary animal’s.

“What kind of public spectacle,” he asked, without much inflection.

Elizabeth moved to her hip, and then pushed herself wearily to a sitting position, reaching out to touch the back of his wrist.

“I don’t know - something that does not hurt you, I prefer. But I cannot be seen going soft on you again. You know that Captain Barbossa intimated I should either torture or kill you if you had another misstep - and he likes me personally. But I do not kid myself that the man who originally marooned me would defend my lovesickness over a pair of squabblings boys for very long. Of course, there is another option,” she said uncomfortably. “If I were to treat the matter as I would with anyone else, striking you earlier would have been enough.”

“I would rather be flogged than made to look additionally hapless and foolish in front of these people,” James said, a little more heatedly- but under the temper there was a note of pleading. He did not look at her.

“We could - we could part entirely,” she said numbly. “I would not have to harm a hair on your head.”

“Elizabeth-”

“I know it isn’t ideal,” she said, a struggle to keep composure. “I am not even angry anymore - how could I be angry at you and Will for behaving like reckless, silly boys? But you are not just anyone, you are-”

“Beckett’s former admiral,” James muttered, “and your bedwarmer, useful for very little but the flesh, and a drunk-”

“My sweetheart,” she corrected him, gently, closing her hand over the back of his.

Just as he was the Admiral’s son. Of course. One always did have to bear more for such privileges, didn’t one?

“Very well,” said James, still without moving. His eyes were open, but he was not quite seeing anything, in a way that had nothing to do with the dim light of the storefront.

“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth, struggling to keep her voice steady, “you could - perhaps you should leave on the Gloriana, as - as planned originally-”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “You may have your spectacle. I understand.”

Elizabeth shook her head, and tears fell down her cheeks on account of the swift motion.

“I can’t flog you. You must understand. I think they expect a flogging - Barbossa offered me the use of his cat - and I think it will affect me if I don’t deliver. God help me, I can’t do that.”

“I can bear a flogging,” he said, lifting his voice a little more emphatically.

“But don’t you see I can’t?” she asked, her voice breaking. She gasped just once, then pulled him in sharply to hide her sobs against his shoulder.

James’s whole body jerked in surprise and he sat up, pulling her with him as he put his arms around her.

“It’s- never mind, darling, I’m sorry- please forgive me. Do- do whatever you must, all right? I’ll bear it-”

He stared over her shoulder, expressionless, but rubbed gently between her shoulders anyway.

Hideous, it seemed to her, for him to be bringing her comfort in a time like this.

“I told you,” Elizabeth sniffed; “after you arrived on the Pearl drunk as a dog Barbossa intimated that it might be better to kill you if you made a mistake again. I’ve been up for hours thinking about what to do with you to curb their resentment, to satiate their lust to see you punished. It would be easier if you weren’t my James Norrington, my father’s first choice for my husband and my oldest friend. The faster I am to pardon you, the faster my position decays. You have no idea - perhaps you and you alone have some idea - how little I have to go back to if I should lose this. This - the one thing, the only thing I’ve ever had, that affords me the respect and independence, the protection, that formerly I could only have because - because you or Will would still have me in spite of my ruin - and soon I will have lost you both -”

James pulled himself back to look at her properly- eyes focused and purposeful again, brows knit.

“I won’t let it come to that,” he said, chafing her hands between his now, as though she had fallen overboard.

Elizabeth smiled weakly, but sincerely, even though her eyes were reddened and wet.

“I think you must be Commodore Norrington again,” she said apologetically. “Even from me, darling.”

“Whatever you need-”

“Oh, James,” she said, and the smile faltered. “You. I need you -”

She pulled him into her arms, leaning her head on his shoulder again faintly.

Even if she had to - even if she had to hurt him, to keep him - it would be worth it. And perhaps he would forgive her in time, if he wanted badly enough to be kept.

“I- thank you, Elizabeth,” he said, relieved that he no longer had to keep eye contact with her.

Elizabeth lingered in his arms, contemplating the weight and the smell of him, and how much she shrank from the thought of making him suffer, yet how much she would if she lost him.

It was a tense minute that she stayed there before she pulled back and looked at him again, astonished by an idea that seemed, to her, to be a very harmless alternative.

“Commodore Norrington,” she was putting together rapidly. “A promotion ceremony -”

“A what-”

“Pirates- you know how they thrive on theatricals. Putting on mock trials when they’re bored and such like. I’ll promote you to Commodore - make a show of it. It will hurt your pride - only your pride. And it will satisfy them - I’m certain it will satisfy them. James-”

She had tears falling from her eyes again, and an elated smile.

“I can keep you - and keep you safe-”

James stared at her.

“Safe?” he repeated. “My God- if they wanted to kill me, they already would have-”

“From the whip- or whatever else anyone can suggest to me if I don’t act to their satisfaction. God knows-”

“I’ve been whipped before- I know what to expect, it’s fine- Elizabeth, please don’t fret about this-”

“It will be one ceremony - they’ll forget it as soon as it’s happened, it will all be, as they say, water under the bridge,” she said, putting her hand in his hair and gently combing it out.

“Will they? Elizabeth- I’ve let some of those men bugger me for drinking money-”

“Those men would enjoy your suffering whatever form it took - at least this way you will have all the outside appearance of it and nothing more. Oh, James,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I think it would work.”

“...the outside appearance of it, yes,” James mumbled, lowering his eyes. “Of course.”

She kissed him on the cheek. James limply patted her leg. She pulled back from him and glanced down at it, with a titter of uncomfortable laughter.

“Do you know,” she asked softly. “Did I - or anyone - tell you what Barbossa did to Will’s father?”

“I don’t pry into the personal histories of pirates unless it is to gain an advantage,” he answered, so arrogantly and automatically that it was as though she had been swept a few years into the past.

Elizabeth pulled back and looked at him in shock and no small measure of disgust. James turned his head, his eyes averted and his jaw set. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened his back, which he hoped would mask how much he was trembling..

“Maybe the advantage in this case would be the benefit of some human decency,” she said shortly.

“I'm sorry,” James sighed. “I'm- never mind. I'm sorry. You never told me anything about the elder Turner’s involvement with Barbossa.”

“It seems it would not interest you if I had,” said Elizabeth, rummaging through her stash of things by the bedside. She had dragged another table over there to rest it on, but she could not find what it was she was after. Everything seemed to her suddenly so useless - even the box of quondams, open and spilling on its side; the three quarters full bottle of whiskey they had appreciated with some now empty soda cans the other night; a card full of strange, cheaply-made earrings she had thought looked pretty and planned to wear (she wanted nothing so poor for James when she pierced his ear - that seemed an unlikely thing now, didn’t it). Such an overabundance of frivolity and waste and jetsam when one good thing, one normal thing that might be found at a bedside was absent. She slammed her palm down on the table in frustration.

“James, get me a hairbrush.”

“Whatever it was, I can assume it was intended to be lethal, seeing where he ended up,” James said flatly. “All that aside, where have you put it?”

“I said get me one,” said Elizabeth in irritation, pushing what seemed to her to be a particularly disgusting hank of her own hair behind her ear. She met his eyes and finished coolly, “dog.”

“From where? Pardon me, but I’m in no mood for this dog business now that you don’t have your public to appease-

“Do you think I am appeased? James,” she said irritably. “Get me a damn brush.”

“Have you already got one, or do you want me to fetch one from elsewhere in here too-“

“If I had one, I wouldn’t need you to fetch it, would I?”

“Good God- fine, fine. Give me a moment.”

He stormed away from the bed and wove his way out of the maze of display rooms. As he passed through something that was probably a sitting room, he knocked over a standing lamp that fell on and shattered a glass tabletop; James bit off a loud curse before turning a corner and disappearing into the darkness of the rest of the store.

Elizabeth regretted sending him, but no so much she could call him back. She sit on the edge of the bed and willed her hands stay on her knees, far away from her hair. She thought she might tear it out if she didn’t.

He returned around ten minutes later and dropped the brush on the bed beside her.

“Here you are. I’m going to sleep, if Your Majesty should deign to permit it.”

He picked up the whiskey bottle from the bedside table and took a few swallows to take the edge off, before pointedly setting it back down and turning to her with an exaggerated bow.

She met his eyes with guilt and reluctance.

“Brush it.”

It was still phrased as an order, but she bit her lip and rephrased it. She’d grown brittle in the moments without him.

“I mean I want you to brush it.”

James’s lips parted, and he blinked a little too rapidly to try to recover himself.

“Is that- a punishment or a reward? Because I’ve had my fill of the one for today, thank you, and I’m not sure now is the best time for the other-“

“It is primarily for my benefit,” said Elizabeth, her mouth feeling dry. Her eyes sought some forgiveness and understanding in his. “I’m afraid if I do it myself, I’ll pull my hair out.”

James didn’t move for what felt like an age, but he sighed and sat beside her nonetheless.

“Fine,” he said again. “It’s fine.”

He slowly drew her hair back over her shoulders and studied it, feeling as though he were truly seeing the knots and split ends and general damage, everything that she had always complained of as having come with that lovely sunlit blonde shade she had gradually acquired, for the first time.

James cleared his throat and began brushing- small strokes, from the bottom.

“This is not how I used to think this would happen,” he admitted, more than a little bitterly.

“Oh?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even, and drawing her legs up under her slowly enough not to disturb him.

“That is to say, when I allowed myself to think of it at all.”

All of a sudden she knew of what he meant. She was thankful to be so turned away from him as she was.

“I’ve never thought of it at all,” she said, truthfully. She had thought a long time on what it might be to be married to Will, but she had never imagined him brushing her hair. A husband might do such a thing, she supposed. It hurt to be reminded how faithfully James had thought of her. She felt the nails of both hands driving into her palms.

“When we leave this place, I’m teaching you how to take care of this. I haven't the patience to look after mine in that way any longer, but I have all the time in the world for you.”

“Have you?” she asked softly.

“Obviously.”

“James,” she said, clearing her throat; “if you would rather have the Gloriana than a tyrant king, I will not grudge you…”

“We would be lucky to see one another more than a few times a month, if that,” he said sternly.

“I am not confident that you will love me so much if you see me more than that number,” said Elizabeth numbly. “I am not so confident you do not love me less already.”

“What happened to ‘I need you’-“

“Poetry, I suppose. But I told you before I could live without you if I had to. I would rather not, but I…”

Elizabeth swallowed. She thought to herself about how much she did not want to hurt him as he had been by all the rest of the world, and then how much all the rest of the world might punish her if she let him set the pace in matters of his punishment.

She thought of Captain Barbossa’s ambiguous respect for her and his transparent contempt for James Norrington, and wondered what could transpire between her and the latter to make the former turn on her. Anything, really.

And Barbossa was the nice one out of the lineup of pirate lords whose fealty she nebulously had.

But here James was, hers and hurting all the same.

What other options did she have, then, but to set him free?

“...It would be better, I think, to leave you a captain for the time being,” she said carefully, as though it were only a political matter. “I do not think the matter will be long in anyone’s mind after we have parted - it will not be long, then, if you - if you so choose to later join me on the Empress -”

James stopped brushing and slammed his hands down on his thighs in irritation, startling her.

“For God’s sake, Elizabeth, if you don’t want me, at least grant me the courtesy of saying so-“

“Do you want to be promoted?” Elizabeth demanded, turning to face him.

“What kind of game are you playing with me?” James retorted, his voice rough with distress. “Elizabeth- I can’t live like this. I’m exhausted by trying to live up, or down, or whichever the day demands, to the expectation of how I am to best serve you-“

“Then don’t,” she said plainly, blinking a few too many times. “It is clear what you want from me and what I can give you are two different things.”

“Do you not want me on the Empress?”

“I can’t be your wife, James,” Elizabeth said by way of an answer, the tears burning in her eyes; but she did not shy away from holding them steady on his.

“Of course not. God, imagine that lot out there calling you Mrs. Norrington. Mrs. Dog-”

“You would be taking my name,” she said as though a reprimand.

James stared at her, flabbergasted.

“You’ve thought about this?”

Elizabeth colored. Her distress at this coming up now when they were not certain to be together very long was immense.

“If you - would have permitted it only-”

James Swann. He wanted to feel the name in his mouth, but if he said it out loud he knew he would betray himself.

“From what you seem to want,” he said, very carefully, “I don't think it matters.”

Elizabeth let out a bitter laugh, drying her eyes on her shirt.

“I don’t think I can reasonably be accused of having misled you about my intentions,” she said with a faint edge to her voice. “I have always planned on remaining the Pirate King. And yet you still hope I will change my mind.”

“I have never said that,” James retorted.

“And yet you continually balk at it,” said Elizabeth. “And now I am accused of playing a game with you, because you don’t like to be my dog, as though I can make allowance for something else-”

“Why has being your dog meant my humiliation from the beginning, rather than simply my subordination?”

“Perhaps if you were not so determined to make an ass of yourself-”

“Because I wasn't about to let Turner destroy himself-”

“Then why did you not come to me? I found the two of you brawling in a fountain-” Elizabeth cried in a rush of strong feeling.

“Elizabeth,” James sighed, “do you even love me, or am I just here?”

“I do love you,” said Elizabeth with an acute sense of despair. “I can’t flog you. I can’t promote you. You think I do not love you because I do not let you walk all over me? I cannot love you less than myself and you cannot ask me to-”

“I have never asked to walk over you- I don't wish to even put you in my shadow-”

“What do you wish, then?”

James studied her a moment longer, smiling sadly.

“I want to be with you,” he said.

He took her hands in his.

“May I continue brushing your hair?”

“You needn’t, I can care for myself,” she said, feeling at last the chagrin she was due on reflection of how poorly she had treated him.

“It's all right,” he said. “Beside that, you’ll probably destroy it in the temper you're in.”

“I think all my temper is gone,” she said after a moment. “Do you really not know that I love you? After all of this, that you are here with me because I had the option?”

“In your grief, then. It's rather fragile, darling. And I- I’m not always certain of the…”

He lowered his eyes for a moment and looked back at her with a sad smile.

“The depth of it, perhaps.”

He still held her hands in his own, and she brought them up to kiss them and ease the pain he brought her.

“Do you, as a sailor, deny the depths of the sea, even where you cannot see them with looks alone?”

“Don't compare yourself to the sea, when I have lost so much to it.”

“Very well,” she said shortly, pressing his hands, and gently pushing them away. “Brush my hair or don’t, it’s nothing to me.”

“All this time,” he said, “I have told myself that you chose me. You chose me.”

He looked at his rejected hands, and then away from her altogether.

“But I am forced to wonder for what purpose.”

“Yes, what indeed,” she said listlessly, getting out of bed to undress, clumsily and not for show, before getting back in again, sliding beneath the covers. It was cooler inside the Macy’s with the lights gone out than she was fully accustomed to growing up in the Caribbean.

He looked back over his shoulder at her.

“Come here.”

Elizabeth rolled over with a groan to rest her head again in his lap, gingerly.

“Sit up. I’m going to brush your hair, all right?”

“If you want to,” she said, indifferent with exhaustion, but sitting up just the same. “I have given it up as ever looking well again.”

“Give it time,” he said, without the slightest hint of self-awareness, as he began again.

“And effort on your part,” she added, in softer, reconciliatory tones.

“If you want it,” James said cautiously. “I don't want you to feel I am unduly prioritizing something as frivolous as your hair.”

“It is of little consequence,” she agreed readily, but she was equally quick to admit, “but I can’t help feeling a connection between the degradation of my hair and the degradation of my moral character. It used to be - if I may be allowed to say so - it used to be very nice.”

She laughed nervously.

“I tried not to think of it,” said James, with a weak laugh of his own.

“Because it fares the worst at present by comparison?”

“No- I meant to say, in Port Royal.”

“Ah,” said Elizabeth, nervously tilting her head back by a fraction as he worked on the very ends. “Thank you at least for your ‘trying’; that says to me that sometimes you must have failed, and I appreciate it.”

“Often,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry it’s not what it would have been,” said Elizabeth quietly, “on our…”

She was not able to finish. James paused, mid-stroke.

“It was never truly about your hair,” he said, in the same quiet voice.

“I hope not, at this point; I would have lost your affection by now, then,” she tried to joke.

“To quote the wisdom of a very close friend, whose opinion I hold in the highest of regard,” James said as he began to brush again, “if it bothers you so terribly, you should cut it.”

He was gentle in a way that belied his words, though he hadn't spoken with much of an attempt to convince, either. It may not have been about her hair but it certainly didn't hurt.

“It did not until very recently,” she confessed. “But now I feel as though I have neglected more than my hair.”

James swept her hair forward, over her shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck and then pressing a soft, solemn kiss to it, just below her hairline.

“Just as you are the only one to pay any attention to my hair,” she said, shutting her eyes, “I believe you are the only one between us to possess any moral strivings, today excepting.”

“The very fact of your concern shows you are better than you think,” he murmured, close to her shoulder.

“Will you - will you keep brushing it, please,” she asked faintly, as much to feel the nurturing comfort of that attention as to prevent her heartsickness at the attentions he was currently providing instead.

“Oh- yes, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’ll damage it-”

But he continued, nonetheless.

“Better to rip the knots out now than later-”

“I would prefer to be gentle and avoid ripping anything out,” he said, with a note of finality.

That very same gentleness that she had long misconstrued as dullness made her smile to herself now. She knew, even as her mood had softened, that she held him at arm’s length, but she could not draw him any closer.

“I can do it, if you prefer,” she reminded him.

“And rip out the knots?” James said dryly.

“If need be.”

“Allow me to spare you that fate. I happen to be fond of this hair.”

“A fact with which I am well acquainted,” she managed, “to my pleasure, although not my understanding.”

“It's not your hair itself so much as the circumstances under which I might have once had this kind of access to it.”

She took that remark with a vivid picture soon entering her head and draining her of some of the happiness she had just regained, until she, seemingly very abruptly, turned her head - pulling her hair from his grasp, even unto his involuntarily pulling a strand still in the hairbrush enough to hurt - and said, “Do you know what circumstances first came to my mind? A marooning.”

“Would you have really wanted me to kiss you then-”

“No,” she said shortly; “you know my thoughts were all for Will then, and how much I feared Barbossa opening his throat. But my hair was certainly quite down for Jack Sparrow, wasn’t it?”

She took note of her own bitterness and checked herself.

“I only marvel that that is where my head went first, that’s all. Of course it’s a very - a lovely picture to imagine a virtuous bride letting her hair down for the first time on her wedding night-”

“There were two competing wedding nights in my mind,” James murmured. “The one in which we did everything I had hoped for, and the one in which I could not bear to.”

“James,” she said softly, with a sincere look of pain making her flinch, even as she reached up to touch his roughened cheek - the one that did not have a mark from Will’s ineffectual blade upon it. “You know now there shall probably never be a wedding night. Let’s not think on what might have been any longer. Besides the specific regret, it forces me to consider other things I have lost out on - my maidenhood and my virtue, my standing, my family- I have your company, I hope for a little while more, and I have your love. I have your love, don’t I?” she asked with real doubt and real hope.

James looked rather hurt.

“You know you do.”

Elizabeth worried her lower lip a while.

“Perhaps I can…. call you ‘commodore,’” she said doubtfully, “and have that pass for humiliation enough-”

“Really? I- oh, thank you. Thank you-”

He kissed her hands with sincerity he would later recall as embarrassing, but in the moment his relief was enough that his head swam a little.

“And keep you with me on the Empress without much judgment from the rest of them - those not on our crew, anyway. On the Empress they won’t care. They don’t know you or your father so well in Singapore that they have that peculiar lust to see you ground down, and you are just some man to tem.”

“And I will let the ladies have use of the Gloriana as a sign of trust,” he agreed, beginning to smile in earnest now

Elizabeth was more hesitant.

“I think I shall still have to avoid you publicly a while,” she said. “But God knows if Barbossa will be convinced without a further show. Oh, I can’t wait to be back on the Empress-”

“Barbossa is probably too eager to practice on Turner now that he's the weak link in our chain to notice,” James retorted.

“You don’t know much of Captain Barbossa,” said Elizabeth, a little frostily. “You should fear him more, even if we are, as I hope, out of the range of exciting his displeasure.”

James gave her a questioning look.

“I’m serious,” she pressed him.

“I’m sure you are. Elizabeth, if you feel you need protection from him- just in case, God forbid-”

“I am the one who is meant to be protecting you,” she said heatedly. “But how can I if you strip me of all dignity and respect-”

“What happened out there?” he asked, his frown deepening. “Before he marooned you. I ultimately assumed it could not have been so terrible; you're wretchedly fond of the man-”

His surprising her with the question caught her very miserably off guard; the large solemnity of her eyes and the way that they avoided him after fixing on him for one intense, brief moment of shock was generally unlike her.

“He didn't-”

“Didn’t what?”

“...use indelicate force against you-”

Elizabeth moved to refute him, but pressed her lips together instead with a look of great exertion and turned away from him again, as though he were to continue to brush her hair.

It was only when she could no longer see him that she could make herself speak.

“I don’t know that he wouldn’t have, and that is the most honest answer I can give. There was a certain implication of interest on his side at the start; he had me change my dress, although I can at least allow that I was abducted from Port Royal in only my nightgown and robe. After he sank the Interceptor, he-”

This required her to chew on the inside of her cheek a long moment before she could bring herself to recount it; she had not spoken of it out loud before.

“ - it was stated,” she said delicately, “by Captain Barbossa, that I had evaded their hospitality once, and ought to return the favor, whereupon he tossed me to the crew and they -”

She could not finish saying it; even saying as much as she had gave her great pain. She was afraid she was giving James leave to conjecture too much on what might have happened, but she could not finish.

“- Will appeared then; he had not gone down with the wreck as we had supposed; since it was his blood they needed to lift their curse, he threatened to shoot himself if his terms were not met. His terms were that the crew be unharmed and I go free. Barbossa agreed to them, but only in those exact words. So I walked the plank and swam to that island, with Jack after me, and the crew, uninjured, went to the brig.”

She paused, and turned back to him with a reddened face and eyes, and then she gave him an exhausted smile.

“At least he had me strip out of the dress before I went in,” she said with a touch of laughter and a heavier touch of bitterness. “As much as I cannot say I liked to give the men a show, wearing it I am sure I would have drowned.”

“And this man- and members of his crew,” James said slowly. “This man has been among us the entire time- taking in stray children, dispensing advice-”

“Is that all so peculiar to you? You have forgotten your oppressively dull speech on pirates,” she said with a snort.

James put his hands on her shoulders.

“Say the word and he’s as good as dead.”

Elizabeth’s eyes rolled half through her head.

“No.”

“Elizabeth, I’ve slain dozens just like him-”

“And like me too, I expect.”

“Regardless-

“Whatever he has been to me in the past, now he is my ally,” she said firmly. “Though not yours, I admit. If you would help me with him, please, please conduct yourself better-”

“I know-”

“After they became aware they were cursed,” Elizabeth said, abruptly, “Will’s father sent him a piece of the treasure, that they might remain so - he said they deserved it for marooning Jack. Barbossa strapped him to a cannon and dropped him into the ocean. An eternity of torment, that was to be. You see how he has only traded one ill fate for another. I don’t pretend I don’t believe better of him now than I once did; I think he is a changed man after the curse. But that is what he is capable of. Don’t be so foolish as you are about him. He would be a very dangerous man to cross, James, and I do not think his threats about you are idle.”

James took a moment to consider that.

“Noted,” he said finally, very softly.

Elizabeth found herself needing him very badly.

“James,” she said.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Hold me-”

James gathered her into his arms and lay down. She fit snugly against his shoulder like this; she was not a small woman, but she felt it at moments like these, and James was overwhelmed by an aching need to protect her, even if she would probably just as quickly reassert that she could do it herself.

“I cannot say I’ve forgotten why we quarreled,” she sighed, “but I certainly don’t care anymore. I am surprised you and Will did not come to blows earlier, to tell the truth; and I am equally certain that forcing the two of you into close quarters will serve as punishment enough, for when you don’t repeat the mistake it will be clear a lesson was learnt. There. I am done being King for the night, I think, which means you no longer have to be dog, if you wish it.”

“Thank God,” he said, with a tired-sounding laugh. “I am content enough to be your man.”

Her answering smile was real and vivid, and she leaned up to kiss him with all the passion she had saved for him while waiting by the claw machine.

“You never let me finish with your hair,” James laughed.

“Mm, did you want to? I find I mind less, now that I am secure in your affection, how it looks-”

“Next thing we know, you’ll be filling it with nonsense like Sparrow’s-”

“I don’t want it in mats,” she responded indignantly. “It would be one thing if i had hair like Tia Dalma’s - Jack’s is just dirty. Barring mats I can’t see anything staying in my hair. And, good God, I won’t have it said I think Jack is a style icon-”

“Then perhaps,” he teased, “you ought to let me finish.”

Elizabeth tossed her hair as she sat up, smirking at him like it was a challenge, telling him he could go ahead. James grinned back and went for the brush.

As he pushed her hair back over her shoulders in preparation for her to turn around, James stopped for a moment and gathered it in his hands, lifting it from her face.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is this the foolhardy young lad who struck me with a rum bottle during a brawl in Tortuga?”

“This is she.”

“She? Ah, that explains why he's so pretty.”

She put her hands on his chest and moved them up to cup his face. There was so much she wanted to ask him in the way of sentimentality and affection, but, while touching his lips with her thumb, what she in fact said was, “I’ve thought of more duties for you.”

“I thought I was done being your dog tonight,” said James, though thankfully in a decidedly non-accusatory tone.

“Can’t be helped,” she said with little remorse. “I think I must have you do my hair from here on out. I’d forgotten what a convenience it is - and never known it could be such a pleasure.”

James emitted a sudden bark of startled laughter.

“I’m not certain I’ll be good for more than a plait-”

“I can dress it myself. But you’re to brush it.”

His smile softened. “I would be thrilled to.”

She kissed him.

“Turn around, then- don’t keep me waiting!”

She rolled her eyes again good-naturedly, but she did so; the last he saw of her face before she turned her head again was the soft radiance of a smile meant only for him.

“You know,” he said as he began brushing, “I think if Theo were to ever find out about this, he would positively refuse to let me live it down.”

“Somehow imagine that is true of a lot of what we do in bed.”

“He gave me such trouble for the time I spent on my uniform, to say nothing of my hair-”

She remembered Lieutenant Groves from Port Royal; she had always gotten on with him very well. An amiable man, likely given to mischief. It was not that strange, if he was friends with James, that James should like her too.

“I like to give you trouble for those things, too.”

“Elizabeth.”

“I rather think you like to be given trouble yourself.”

“I was the Admiral’s son,” he said. “I had obligations to uphold.”

“Now you’re my lover. I like to think you still have some.”

“Is this the earring again?”

“It can be the earring. I had given that up. I only meant that you reflect on me now. I’m answerable for your deeds and appearance.”

She came close to renewing her complaints over his behavior of that afternoon, but enough had been said about it to exhaust her on the subject, and she did not want the office of authority any longer tonight.

“You can have the earring,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “Though I may have to challenge your notion of wearing anything dangling; that's all but asking to be grabbed and pulled on in close combat.”

He had found a snarl, and was pinching above it with one hand as he brushed from the bottom with the other, to keep it from pulling on Elizabeth’s scalp. James resolved in that moment that he would never allow her hair to return this state again.

Elizabeth winced, grateful again he could not see her face.

“Will has a hoop,” she said bluntly. “I would rather not invite the comparison-”

“And it still dangles,” James countered, “so I think we're in agreement.”

“Have what you will,” said Elizabeth. “Let it not be said I put fancy jeweled collars on my dog like some vain Frenchwoman.”

“Oh my God-”

“The Pirate King must have a little taste. I’ve got so many other Pirate Lords to offset,” she deadpanned.

“And I am, I suppose, a necessary accessory.”

“A bodyguard,” she said evenly.

“Ah,” he said. “Oh, that's far more palatable.”

“The kind of bodyguard that does one’s hair. But also the kind of bodyguard that does one. So, you know. A lover.”

“We won't mention the matter of your hair, I should think.”

“No, indeed, that I like too much to let others know it. Others would make something vulgar of it and I think it is very lovely,” said Elizabeth, mortifying herself with shyness.

He reached forward and let a stray lock of it fall over his finger, and kissed it.

“Is that the strand you want for your coat?” asked Elizabeth, unable to resist taking a moment too open and unguarded and teasing him for it, though the way she looked over her shoulder was devastatingly sincere.

“Any strand will do. I shall try harder not to lose this one.”

“Well, you can’t have that one,” she argued, “now that you have kissed it it is too dear to me-”

James gathered the whole sunny mass of her hair in his hands and brought it to his lips.

“Oh, dear. Now I suppose I shan’t have anything,” he laughed. “It’s all right. Better on your head.”

Elizabeth burst into unladylike squeals of laughter, leaning back on him the easier to nudge him with her elbow. “I nearly dare to say - there is technically speaking other hair you could have - but you’ve kissed that all over, haven’t you -”

“Elizabeth-”

Now it was she that kissed him all over, turning around in his arms to take him into hers, kissing him on the chest, the throat, the face, and the lips, finally, sliding into his lap with a patient insistence that he suffer her there to touch his chin with her fingertips and kiss him again and again, not hastily or in a rush of passion but the good sense to go slowly and enjoy him.

“Mm- I haven't finished-”

“You keep tempting me away from letting you,” she said with an unfelt indignation, guiding him to lay back and let her lean over him.

“It's not my fault you’ve no sense of control,” James said, faux-accusatory, as he lay down.

“Very wrong, commodore, it is only that I best love to control others, and best love among others, controlling you, so with that in mind, put your hands back in my hair-”

“And to think I worried that you thought I loved you only for that,” James said, a little wistfully.

“It does a king good to know someone is noticing and appreciating her remaining feminine attributes,” Elizabeth snorted.

“The rest are less concealed than you think,” James retorted.

Elizabeth rubbed one of her legs on his. “At the moment.”

“You cut a rather delicate figure.”

“I suppose compared to you,” she said, her hand creeping up his body. “You’re as broad as a ship yourself.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, though unoffended.

“I don’t think it registers much til you are nearly on top of me,” she said reconciliatorially.

“The Admiral has a low opinion of staying. I suppose for that I am grateful to him.”

“And so am I,” she said, with an admiring lookover. She met his eyes and smiled.

“I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

Elizabeth erupted in laughter.

“Yes, I am sure he is so glad you ran off with the Pirate King-”

“He probably feels gratified to have twenty-five years of suspicion confirmed,” said James, with a startled, hollowish laugh of his own.

“But what a smart match I am. The former governor’s daughter, and now I am royalty. Elected royalty, but all the same- did the rest of your family strive so high-”

“Young Laurence is a viscount now,” he said, “so I have done my part to emulate him.”

He began finger-combing her hair.

Elizabeth leaned into it until her nose touched the palm of his hand and she could nuzzle, gently.

“Of course, Young Laurence isn't nearly so young anymore- he’s nearly of an age with your father- but relative to the Admiral-”

“James,” she asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Do you miss your family? I forget too often that you still have yours.”

His fingers slowed as he tried to think of an answer to that.

“I never knew my brothers as well as I would like,” he said, after a pensive silence. “They were both already grown when I was born. Laurence has a son two years my elder-”

“Good God, really?”

“He was twenty-five years old at the time. It's hardly unusual.”

“It’s only difficult for me to imagine. I’ve been simultaneously the heir and the infant of my household all my life.”

“I think William- that is to say, my brother, William- I think he was more the infant than I was,” he said, with a rather sad laugh. “Heaven knows he was always my mother's favorite. She had Laurence too early, and myself too late, and suffered for us both. William came very easily and agreeably by comparison.”

“You can be my infant,” she said agreeably, ruffling his hair in a manner that did not pass as maternal. “It can’t help but make me sad, the way you speak of your family.”

“Please don't fret on my account,” he said, though he leaned a little into the ruffling. “It's not as though I did not benefit from any of it-”

“Let me baby you,” she argued with a tone of warning.

“Elizabeth-“

“Why should I not? You owe it to me to have my way in everything-”

Elizabeth’s concept of babying was the tenderest of touches and a good number of kisses along the jawline, while leaning back to stroke his hair and look at him every so often.

“I find it odd, at times, to realize I don't hate him,” he said, with a thoughtful frown.

Sensing some of her kisses would be unwelcome, Elizabeth turned her head to kiss his fingers instead.

“I nearly did, for some time in my youth. I thought- never mind.”

“You can tell me.”

He huffed, as though steeling himself.

“When I was very small, I can recall my mother shouting at the Admiral that her carrying me was something he had done to her. I don't suppose I need explain how I later came to believe I had been conceived.”

He pressed his lips together as he looked up at the plain tiled ceiling, rather than Elizabeth’s face.

“She departed for her health shortly after my third birthday. She said she was hardly fit for English society any longer. She could hardly face any of her old rivals, obviously, not with a mouth full of false teeth and her hair full of switches. The difficulties of a late pregnancy, you understand. Of course, once I finally brought the matter to her when I was able to visit her again in Naples as a young man, she quite kindly assured me that he had done nothing of the sort.”

He laughed a little.

“She asked me not to blame myself. I was only the byproduct, after all. She and the Admiral both thought she was past childbearing age, and- well-”

He gestured at himself. “Surprise.”

Elizabeth pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“It's no matter now,” he said. “I’ve had years to grow accustomed to it.”

“You seem to be so fragile to me,” she reflected in a soft voice. “How precarious your situation, within your family, within the Navy, and now, in all society - even among pirates you are seldom wanted. It’s as though if one thing falls out of place you will disappear. The world is too cruel to protect such people as you; it seems it falls to me to do it. Doesn’t seem right, does it? I am in hardly any less precarious a placement.”

“Oh, I was quite in demand until the hurricane,” he said, rather wistfully. “I had your father's patronage, the Admiral’s name, four limbs, the usual assortment of facial features- good ones, if you will permit me to say it myself- and thirty-two teeth. Jamaica Station didn't care that my career path was less than glorious to the Admiralty. I was the proverbial large fish in a small pond, and God help me, I was proud of it all.”

Elizabeth felt some discomfort, seeing how much she had longed to leave the place, and how, when the time to do so had finally come, it had been under such misfortunes as to ensure she could never think of it without some regret. Now she pondered her life in Port Royal, and unable to avoid it, what their life there might have been, or hers with Will - thinking about her losses, tallying them up, and subtracting them from his.

“Estrella - my maid - she deemed it a ‘smart match,’” she said, with an embarrassed titter of laughter. “If only I had been the kind of woman to esteem a smart match. Amelia pressed me hard to consider you before you even asked me. She said - but nevermind.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t know that it would do you any good to hear it. In any case, I am sure she would have used the same language as Estrella, if things had taken a different course, and I had written her a letter on your proposal before Barbossa escorted me to the Isla de Muertos.”

“Smart enough, I suppose. Had your father not been your father I suspect he would have looked higher.”

“For me?” Elizabeth burst into laughter. “He knew what I was. I can promise you he had no expectation of that. How often he used to say to me, ‘Much as I would happily keep you to care for me into my old age…’”

All good humor fled at the memory. She felt a dizzying rush of pain at the cruel realization, and pressed her cheek hard against James’ shoulder, willing herself not to feel it.

“...let’s just say,” she composed herself, “I have never been eligible.”

“You always were to me,” he said softly.

Elizabeth smiled tightly.

“That was the content of Amelia’s letters, after she married, and I was increasingly desperate to convince her I could barely live without her - she had found no shortage of tenderness with her husband and felt, I suppose, that her life had just begun; mine seemed to have ended - and she did not have the patience for me anymore. She said, if i wanted to change my situation, I had to marry. She asserted that I knew it, and had always known it, and that she did not understand why I still clung to the fantasies of my childhood, instead of looking forward to - well, to conjugal joy, I am certain. She spoke very well of you, you might be pleased to hear. She thought that our formerly very close friendship in my immaturity, and your significance to my father, and your clear regard for me, would make a good basis for marriage, and was less convinced than I was that I would spend the whole of my life ‘rotting on shore’ if I married a naval officer; she thought if nothing else my powers of persuasion and your desire to please me would get me aboard with you as soon as I wanted it. She also had some firm words to say about Will - and I hadn’t intimated that I’d wanted to marry Will! Amelia knew before I did. She said she did not think I would be happy marrying a blacksmith when I could have married a captain and lived at sea. I wish I could write her now; I think it would be a very pretty irony between formerly close friends, for me to say that I became the captain and still ended up with James Norrington. She would not begrudge me some teasing on that point, not when she was right about so much else.”

“You loved her,” said James, with fresh realization. She had said as much before, but the intensity of her words deepened her earlier comments- it had not, it seemed, been the simple flutterings he had taken them for.

Elizabeth shrugged, noncommittal with discomfort. “As a cousin, I thought at the time. I don’t know. I suppose.”

“I'm sorry. I can imagine it must have been… difficult.”

“Yes,” she said distantly. “At the time, very.” She cleared her throat. “Of course I was sending all of these letters that seemed immature and playful - I am certain I said I wished we had run away together before some baron could come take her away to London, and that I was crying every day, and struggling to get out of bed, and hated everyone and everything in Port Royal without her, and she didn’t take me at all as serious. And she confided in me as he started to win her heart away, and I grew more and more miserable that she could be happy and even excited to be happier, without me in her life; I thought I was of greater consequence. She did invite me to stay on with them, and father thought I might like it, but I didn’t want to meet the man. I kept thinking of all our schemes as girls - running away, doing whatever thing had caught our fancy - it was mostly my schemes; Amelia didn’t want to sell poultices and herb bundles in a hut, or become a highwaywoman, or - I don’t know; dress as a boy and go to Oxford with me; but it was diverting to speak of. More than that; it was half hopeful. For a while, after Amelia left - I actually gave it some thought, trying to get into university - they let women into university, in other places - but no one took me seriously enough to let me run the risk of trying.”

She had not thought about this in years; she had gotten fixed on Will a little more and thought of her future as little as she could, and then… But before all of that had happened, there had been this first brush with the terrors of adulthood, the inexorable passage of time that had forced her to recollect the world was not for women in any way, shape, or form.

“At the time I used to have - I would get these pains in my chest, very severely,” she said, putting her hand over her heart, “and my heartbeat would all of a sudden race, and I would be overcome by a feeling of misery or fear; it would come on strong and sudden, and be hard to shake. I’d wake up to them and not want to get out of bed. I would just lie there, quietly crying. Father thought I was growing lazy because I had no friend to look forward to, and I didn’t tell him otherwise; she was the only one who knew about them, and when she was gone, they got worse. Amelia would write me and tell me i had to find a physician or else I really might die. And she didn’t begrudge me your affection - she never had any real hope of having you, she said; her father wouldn’t have allowed the match even if you had thought of her particularly well; and she wouldn��t like to live at sea, she had already admitted. And she was one of the first ones to suggest to me you might be considering me; she and my father. I thought it was normal paternal affection making the best of things when father said it, but from Amelia I was really shocked. At first I thought it was just a little sadness, feeling that you had overlooked her for me because you knew me better, and tried to reassure her of course I thought you must like her, how could you not? She was already giving up on it, though; she knew her father wouldn’t allow it and Amelia was more dutiful than I was.”

Elizabeth started fingercombing her own awful hair.

“It’s difficult to say really. We did kiss; but girls do that, I believe, regardless of the degree of affection between them; they don’t all need to be Ana and Angie to play pretend with each other. And I was as encouraging of her infatuation with you as she was indulgent of mine with Will, so it isn’t as though I could not conceive of myself as being already in love, and not with Amelia.”

James gently paused her hand with his own, afraid that she would subconsciously make good on her threat of ripping her own hair.

“To say that you couldn't live without her, though- for your heart itself to ache without her- that would suggest… a rather un-casual degree of affection.”

“I am sure I wrote some very good stuff,” said Elizabeth with a dark glimmer of laughter, dropping her hand down to rub his chest idly since he had halted its progress in her hair. “It was very foolish for me to expect otherwise, but I felt very rough when she took it all as a funny overstatement of my misery and urged me to go dining with Felicity Whatsherface and whoever else was left in Port Royal we’d somewhat spoken to. It was so hard at the time - her moving on to such happiness with other people, writing to me less and less, and giving me some maternal advice on matrimony when she did. I suppose everyone goes through a similar experience - the early loss or diminishment of a close friend.”

James pushed himself up again and began braiding her hair back so she couldn't menace it any further.

“I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose that comes of living as a sort of band for decades at a time.”

“You lost one early friend,” she said in a quiet voice.

“That was my fault.”

“A loss all the same.”

He wasn't sure how to answer that. James finished the braid and secured it with a band from their bedside table in silence.

“There,” he said. “We shall have to get you a bundle of string or something you can worry with your hands instead of your hair. I'm not certain how much more that can take.”

“It’s only hair,” said Elizabeth, a little sullen and remorseful to lose further pleasure from his brushing it tonight. The conversation about Amelia had brought up a lot of memories she would have rather kept buried. Worst of all, it had been so long since she had seen her that Elizabeth no longer fully remembered what she looked like.

“It's hair you intend to keep, is it not?” he retorted.

“Right now, James, I have to admit, it seems a particularly fruitless vanity. I suddenly remember too well what my hair once was, and will never be again.”

“Now who's regaling whom with complaints about their hair? If you care so little for it, at least let me sew the whole plait over my heart in my coat, rather than force me to watch you destroy it and make yourself unhappier.”

He followed this with a kiss to her braid, though, in hope that, as with the smaller strand, this might have made her love it a little more.

“It’s different,” she argued, then relented. “Well - maybe it’s not different. It was my only feminine accomplishment for much of my life. I didn’t like the harp enough to give it much study, and I didn’t like singing - nothing appropriate for company, anyway. When I was younger - but you already know. It was just the only thing about me that could brook no criticism and look at it now.”

James smoothed one of the little loose locks remaining from her by now long-ago half-disguise to flee from Beckett behind her ear. It seemed, he thought, terribly unfair of this place to forcibly alter his hair on arrival and not hers.

“The new growth here is not too far gone,” he pointed out, his hand lingering by her cheek. “The rest will eventually follow. And really, a lifetime of powder and curling tongs is rarely any kinder…”

His voice trailed off as he studied her for a moment longer, feeling a little monstrous for what he was thinking.

“If you can’t bear to wait for that, the only thing to really be done for it would be to cut it. I don't know how you would feel- I feel unpleasantly destructive even saying such a thing. I'm not eager for it; I love the feeling of it falling over me when we-”

Elizabeth smiled.

James stopped himself there, took another breath and continued, “But I don't love you for it. I would be here to help you to keep it from ever growing to cause you such unhappiness again. I hope you will not hold this against me for saying so. I only hate to see you so wretchedly unhappy, no matter how much I love that you have given me the privilege of brushing it.”

She smoothed his own hair affectionately.

“I’m sorry for overrepresenting my dissatisfaction with it. I don’t miss having it done; don’t miss wearing it in public, under a bonnet; don’t miss sipping tea in salons and waiting for a rival to spy it - no; I was never, in the fashionable sense, the equal to any other woman in Port Royal enough to have a rival - but I suppose, long after I have stopped caring for any of those things, I still miss the-”

She stopped herself. She had not thought of it so clearly until forced just now by James and his hopeless sincerity, but now that she knew herself, she could not be proud.

“ - the advantages of it,” she admitted. “I suppose that’s all it was. I did not love the restrictions, but somehow - I suppose it is not really surprising when it comes down to it - I do miss the privilege of being a gentlewoman.”

“I’m certainly in no place to blame you for that.”

“It makes me feel guilty,” she went on quietly. “When I see the other girls and I think about it. Would there have been a fleet out looking for Anamaria, to see a smoke signal on a deserted island and save her? What leverage would Giselle have had, if she had tried to persuade a commodore to rescue a blacksmith’s apprentice? If Angelica fainted at Jack Sparrow’s hanging - not that I think she would have wanted to miss a moment of it,” she added wryly. “You know what I am saying. I got a taste of my loss when I fled Port Royal on the Trader and had to live as a boy for a while. The world is a different place when you’ve got to get by on your merits, not your father’s name and your pretty face.”

“I wouldn't know,” James said darkly. “That's probably the rest of why I can't bring myself to hate him.”

She patted his arm.

“What a relief that James Norrington had the grace to stumble into ruin at the same rate I did. It is most proper of you. Imagine if I were no longer appropriate for you.”

“Oh, please. You're the King. You became something, whereas I…”

He smiled grimly. It didn't last.

Elizabeth’s smile was extinguished abruptly.

“Sorry,” he said absently. “That was unkind of me.”

“I’m the Pirate King because Sao Feng tried to force me,” she mumbled. “It is no merit.”

“I meant only that… never mind. I'm sorry.”

She took his hand.

“I know what you meant.”

“I always admired how little you seemed to care for what was expected of you,” he admitted. “It was a quality I often hoped that I might have learned from you. It shames me to know how many of your worries I did not see.”

“You weren’t often in Port Royal,” she pointed out. “And even when you were, I hardly opened myself up to you.”

Nor to Will, she thought with chagrin. Nor to anybody.

“I didn't ask, either,” he reminded her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Nor would you have, you were too busy stammering,” she teased him.

“And now look at you,” he said. “I worry that to love me at all will compromise you.”

“I worry for that, too,” she said - she had already acknowledged that. “But in the end I would rather have you than this title. I bought it at a steep price, but that does not make it sweeter.”

He kissed her- chastely, softly- in gratitude.

“I suppose that if so many women can survive concubinage, it's only fair that I endure it,” he said, with a light touch of self-deprecating laughter.

She entwined their fingers.

“Perhaps I can entice you to finish my hair now,” she said with a resigned smile. “As little like it used to be as it is.”

“I would be happy to. Turn around, then-”

“I believe I said that to you recently,” she said with a smirk, though she did so.

“It's probably a boon to us both that you're not a man,” James said dryly as he began unraveling her braid.

“How’s that?”

“‘Any port’s as good as another in a storm’, or so they say.”

“Isn’t that a positive thing, then?”

“I don't know. Do you recall that term Barbossa suggested for a male mistress some time ago? I took the liberty of looking it up, and I think we allowed an insult to slide by us both unchallenged.”

“Which one?”

“Cicisbeo,” said James, though he didn't manage to pronounce it particularly accurately.

“I don’t speak continent, what is it?”

“In theory, a woman's lover. In practice,” he grumbled, “usually a paid invert.”

Elizabeth brightened at that. “Maybe that’s what he thinks you are,” she said, sounding entirely too pleased with the notion. “Now that would be a piece of luck-”

“How-”

“He might not believe that I am thinking with my parts,” said Elizabeth primly.

“Or that you are, and I'm joylessly taking advantage of them-“

“Oh, that’s much less pleasant. Can’t he think you enjoy it a little? Perhaps turned around?”

“Oh, I’m certain he thinks I’m enjoying that,” he said, a little grimly. “Which is not to say I am not, but- look, I feel you must understand what I’m saying. I fear they think I am taking you for a fool.”

“Would you like the Gloriana.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you often enough to act as her captain.”

“Then we suffer the risk. But honestly, I do not think I am in your company in public often enough to lend to that impression.”

“Thank heavens you didn't cut your hair. I can only imagine what they would think. Probably that I had coerced you into playing at being a boy for my sake-”

“I somewhat doubt it.”

“One can only hope,” he said grimly. “My God, to be out of this place and fighting for you- I’m growing restless.”

Elizabeth wanted that too - she did. But the reality of fighting and who they would be fighting against felt more than she could handle - right now she was no king, only Elizabeth, orphaned and on the run, feeling as frail and damaged as the split ends of her hair. She stared hollowly into the distance and repeated numbly, “Restless, yes.”

It all seemed a hopeless dream tonight, destined to end in tragedy and humiliation. The end of a noose for her, a firing squad for James. She wondered which of them Beckett would force to watch the other’s execution. James, watching hers, she thought, and he’d get in a good jab about how James ought to have impregnated her, to offer her a stay of execution; or was he incapable? She gently shook her head.

“I don’t know how much longer I shall be the Pirate King, especially if your presentiments are accurate,” she murmured. “We’ll still have the Empress, and the heart of Davy Jones.”

There was that still - but it was not Jones she feared. It never fully had been, even after witnessing the dreadful eldritch power of the Kraken.

“Do you really think you are supposed to have that much influence over me?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I know that none of these men save a handful of mine and the children hold me in much regard, and that’s quite aside from my history.”

He set the brush down and kissed the mass of her hair once more for good measure.

“Or perhaps it is, but not the part of it with Beckett. They find my downfall endlessly entertaining.”

Elizabeth turned and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, pulling herself closer to him, touching his lips with the fingers of her other hand.

“Do shut up.”

“I worry only for how it reflects on you,” he pointed out. “I know I’ve no dignity to these people. What do you suppose they think of your stooping to me?”

“To be honest, I think they think I’m using you, if they think of it at all. That’s what powerful men do with women, they use them up. I think I come off more the man in this situation - isn’t that what you mean by no dignity?”

“I meant more specifically the spectacle of having seen me losing teeth and drinking myself sick in the gutters of Tortuga,” he said, “to say nothing of my efforts to ensure I remained drunk. Had I not fallen from so great a height, they would not rejoice so in my descent.”

She slid a little higher up on his lap, closer.

“But they can see I want you. And surely they can also see why. Regardless of your collapse, I don’t think I am seen as stooping at all.”

“Kiss me gently, then,” he said, half-deadly serious and half self-deprecation. “I suspect another tooth was doomed in the brawl with Turner.”

Elizabeth kissed him very gently, and slowly guided him to his back against the pillow, while she remained astride him.

“If you lose a tooth,” she could not help but say eventually, “can I have it?”

He stared at her.

“What? Why?”

“You wanted my hair, I would like your tooth - if it falls out. Don’t try to pull it out or something.”

“I may have to, if it continues paining me as it is. Yes, you may have it,” he said, sounding resigned. “You don't need to sacrifice your hair for my sake, though-”

“I can part with a lock,” she snorted, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Let us hope that I needn’t part with more than one tooth in return,” he said, more than a little bitterly. “Hair grows back.”

Despite the gloominess of his voice, he chose to emphasize this by letting her brittle hair gently spill through his fingers. He twisted a lock of it around one of them, and lifted it to show her. The damage only began in earnest a decent distance down the strand, a little past her jaw, where her hair was long enough to toss about in the wind and grow salty. Before that point, it was less blonde, but it was also encouragingly smooth and a light burnished brown.

“Serves you right for brawling; I hope Will loses one too,” she said, not particularly kindly, in this case her good mood from the realization of the fact that they had brought some punishment on themselves and she had even less cause to play the disapproving authority figure with him. “It’s a pity you like the blond so much,” she observed. “That seems to be the matter.”

“It's all quite sun-streaked,” James admitted. “I did not realize until today that it was quite so fragile.”

“What’s the word for that? Is that a - is it metaphor?”

“It could certainly count as one,” he conceded. “I suppose I was comparing it to my own. Even at its worst- which you have seen- it never turned quite so pale.”

“Yours is darker than mine,” she shrugged off.

“I do like the blonde,” he admitted, “but I don't think I shall mourn it as I thought when it grows out, after seeing your unhappiness.”

“James, I am fine.”

“Elizabeth, if I spoke as you did about myself in any regard, you would try to threaten me into a better opinion.”

“I am your mistress,” she argued; “I may speak in ways you may not, is that not so?”

James gave her a profoundly unconvinced look from under his eyebrows.

“You were speaking of tearing your hair out. You'll have to pardon me for taking that as a kind of self-aggression.”

“I was not! I said I thought I’d tear it if I tried to brush it. I was in an ungentle mood.”

“Sometimes,” said James, “I feel as though in your haste to remind me of how much you need me, you forget that I need you as well.”

“Is this about my mood?” asked Elizabeth obliviously. “I admit it is not great, but it’s improved-”

“I apologise for my mistake,” James said, a little louder, and in a very even, cautious voice that did not entirely mask his frustration, “but I had reason to believe you would hurt yourself. I hope that, at the very least, you will permit me my concern.”

“Oh!” said Elizabeth, looking troubled. “Did it - did it seem so serious?”

“It was a degree of agitation I had not previously seen from you,” James said, as diplomatically as possible.

“I agitate infrequently,” she agreed, and lay down gently on top of him.

“At the rate you were going, I half-feared you would cut it off in a fit of pique-”

He stopped himself, blinked, and then immediately added, with a warning gesture, “Don't you say a word. I wasn't furious at the moment, it was a perfectly considered choice-”

“I never doubted it,” she laughed. “You look all the better for it - your judgment is impeccable.”

She kissed his newly-trimmed beard.

“Mm- you might as well enjoy it before I'm down a tooth,” he said, a little grimly. “Growing prettier by the hour around here, we are-”

“Is it visible when you smile? The tooth you’re going to - lose I mean-” she asked between kisses.

“I believe so, yes. The obvious solution is not to smile-“

“Oh, don’t you dare-”

“I’m trying to convince myself that it could be far worse, but I can’t say I’m enjoying the prospect,” he grumbled. “I had rather hoped that any marks this left on me would come from you.”

Elizabeth nipped him on the ear.

“Like that-?”

“It’s a start-“

“Mm, what more can I do for you?”

“I’ll let you have the damned earring,” he relented. “Dangling, if it should please you.”

“Do you know what I love,” Elizabeth murmured into his ear, continuing to tease his hair and press kisses along his throat. “I love that I do not have to talk about things at all for you to you lie here and think of them anyway and then you acquiesce just because it is weighing on your soul that you did not already.”

“That's- I don't do that,” he scoffed, a little too automatically.

“Oh, don’t you?”

Elizabeth’s hand crept up his thigh.

“No, I don't think I- I don't-”

“I think you do,” said Elizabeth, toying with his waistband. “I think it sincerely pains you to withhold anything from me.”

“I had a thought earlier-” he blurted.

“Let’s have it.”

“When you meant to promote me- I nearly suggested that- you should mark me as your own, as so many of them have been marked as pirates because of me-”

“With what-”

“I don't know- a knife, probably-”

“That sounds messy,” she said dubiously.

“I would rather that than a mandatory public humiliation,” he countered.

“Which was already discarded as an idea, yeah,” said Elizabeth, stubborn and somewhat injured that he would throw that back in her face.

“I know- oh, no, darling, I didn't forget-”

“Well, now that a mandatory public humiliation is off the table, you needn’t stress yourself pressing for a mutilation in its place. James, this is really unsatisfactory pillow talk.”

“It's not terribly different from having a sweetheart's name tattooed, is it not?”

“Then do that instead?”

“There are too many Elizabeths in the world,” he retorted, “and frankly I have seen too many tattoos sloughed off, which I will not describe. And darling-”

“Swann,” she insisted. “I think it should be Swann.”

James smiled- mouth resolutely closed, but nonetheless.

“A sort of crest-”

“I wanted to get a tattoo, of a swan flying,” she admitted wistfully. “Through gates, perhaps. I don’t imagine it will look like anything but arrogance to most people -”

“...we’ll share it, then,” he said, immediately understanding. “For him.”

She smiled. “I would like that, if - you would.” She hesitated. “If you think it’s wise - sloughing, really?”

“...yes,” he said. “But I’m certain if the needle were heated each pass, it might not end so badly.”

“Well,” she said doubtfully. “When we are successful and have the money to have it done properly - then I say we will.”

“I would consider that a great honor,” he said as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She rolled her eyes, but it was a poor concealment of her smile.

“It is a pity you can't do it yourself,” James admitted.

Elizabeth laughed, but it did not fail to cover her surprise. “James,” she said incredulously.

“I trust you more than most. Certainly more than I trust that lot out there-”

“My drawing was never that good,” she said, mollified. “Anyway, we’ll go to someone proper when we do it, what do you take me for? If you’re going to get tattooed you ought to get someone good.”

“I know,” he said. “Though I do enjoy the thought of looking at something and knowing it was your hand that placed it.”

“I’ll pierce your ear tomorrow,” she said decisively. “I know there is some instrument for it at the Claire’s.”

Despite everything, this still took him by such surprise that his mouth went slack.

“I- all right. As you wish.”

“James,” she said, now exasperated.

“I didn't say no-”

“It’s your ear, if you don’t want it then it won’t be done-”

“It is difficult, at times, to adjust to how quickly all of this has happened,” he admitted. “I don't wish it otherwise, but there are moments when I struggle to recognize my own reflection. That's all.”

“Yes, I suppose the loss of that wig is aggrieving,” she snorted, before recalling that James had been in that uniform since he was a child. To her credit, she looked remorseful before he had to say anything. “I’m sorry. I forget sometimes you have actually lost something.”

“Truth be told, I’m not yet quite used to having to think about any of this. I feel as though I’m fumbling through it, blindfolded and leaning on your arm.”

“Well, truth be told, I don’t feel any differently,” she challenged him.

“...I meant rather specifically physically,” he said awkwardly. “I live in hope of that solving everything from the outside in.”

“I wish,” she said bitterly, and then hesitated, before plunging forward with more apology in her voice than any other sentiment, “I wish after all of the years you spent waiting for me, you were happier to have me.”

“Having you is the part of this I am most pleased by,” James insisted.

“It seems to be no compensation,” said Elizabeth with a dissatisfied, crooked smile.

“I always imagined that I would be to some degree providing for you,” James admitted. “It seems an injustice that I am not able to.”

Elizabeth met his eyes, about to make out his insecurity and his tender regard for her even in the soft, dimmed lighting provided by the glow of a bedside lamp - it seemed foolish to think of it as their bedside lamp, when they would be here for so short a while. She felt again the breach between them - she would not have even thought of this as a factor to influence his feelings about their relationship - and the uncomfortable stab of guilt she felt knowing this was something positive to her, but a hardship for him. She wondered if their relationship would survive it, or end as hers and Will’s had. James wanted her love to be as pure and reckless as it had been when she had given it to Will Turner, but she knew she could never love like that again.

“I did not want you to provide for me,” she said softly. “What you wanted with me before… those things were the reasons I did not love you.”

She spoke like she knew it would hurt, and she was sorry.

“I would still feel… better, perhaps, with the knowledge of being able to reciprocate your protection-”

“You protect me,” she whispered, pressing his hand over her heart.

“Not as well as I would like,” he said, with a sad smile.

“As well as I require, then.”

“Mm. I hope I can do better by you sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t want the prestige or the income of a commodore in the Royal Navy,” said Elizabeth gently, bringing his hand to her lips now. “James Norrington. I just want you.”

James closed his eyes with a flinch, but they stayed shut even as his brows unknit themselves and his face relaxed. He slowly unfurled his kissed fingers and turned them to touch her cheek, rounding under her chin. He took a deep breath and exhaled just as slowly, and then opened his eyes again.

He smiled, only briefly forgetting to keep his mouth closed to hide his swollen gums and loose tooth, and kissed her.

Elizabeth straddled him for better leverage, but did not escalate things, beyond holding him snugly to her, sliding her fingers back and forth through his hair. At this length, to glide her fingers through it took a luxuriously long while, and it still curled, too.

“I really like this,” she broke the kiss to whisper to him, with a little laugh as though at her absurdity.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathlessly. “Oh, good. Thank you.”

“I’ve liked it growing out,” of course she had, “and I liked it long, too, when we first arrived here, but I think this-”

She had to pause and catch herself, following her hand as she tucked hair behind his ear and glided down his jawline. She was not wholly unaware of what she did; she distracted herself deliberately and let him see it. It was indeed merely a reflection of what he did sometimes with her; she knew how that made her feel, and wanted him to know she felt the same.

“- you’ve certainly found a length that suits you… Though it is not wholly even in the back; I can trim that, if you like.”

“Is it? I made something of an effort to avoid dwelling on that. I’ll let you.”

“I doubt anyone but me will ever notice, so if you don’t care, I won’t endeavor to.”

“Oh, you cannot tempt me with the idea of a little reciprocal doting and then take it away-”

“To be very frank, it is now a rather late hour, and there are better things I’d like to dote on…”

“Of course. I’m in no rush…”

She resumed the kiss.

“Mm- be gentle, love-” he admonished her, with a bright laugh.

“Your poor teeth,” she responded with a laugh of her own, and teased him with her tongue.

“If you push it out while we’re kissing, I shall have to leave the country-”

“I don’t know what country we’re in. I declare it my country, and you are not allowed to leave it,” she murmured, pushing him onto his back again.

“Be gentle, then,” he repeated, though in a softer murmur now, as he reached up to tuck her hair back.

“Does my love satisfy you?” Elizabeth whispered to him through a veil of kisses. “The way that I love. Is it going to be enough?”

“Mm- more than that. You overwhelm me sometimes, sweetheart-”

“I mean we sort of want different things. I just want to know if you think it’s going to be enough in spite of that...”

Her fingers traced over his cheek with longing. To be with someone and still not know if they were there was a new kind of agony for her.

James gazed guilelessly up from the pillow at her.

“You have always been enough, Elizabeth.”

She smiled at him, but there was still pain in it.

“Well, then,” she said, and kissed him into submission.

#potcsuggestions #pl: h34v3nlie måll #ch: firing squad #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #norribeth #long post

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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Chat: James & Elizabeth (Dec. 26)

Set shortly after these asks, at which point Will sent Norrington an ask, which went unpublished, to meet him at the food court at lunch time.

James Norrington: I'll be with you later. I need to clear my head. Elizabeth Swann: Is there anything I can do to help with that? James Norrington: You're welcome to it. Personally, I can't wait to get out of this place and get on with my life. Elizabeth Swann: I mean, same but also there are free things so I want to get free things, then do that. James Norrington: Understandable. Elizabeth Swann: Coming around to liking these trousers. James Norrington: You know how I feel about them. I certainly won't object to your keeping them. Elizabeth Swann: :) James Norrington: I suppose I'll be keeping most of what this place bestowed on me as well. James Norrington: Not all of it, I should think, but it's not entirely without appeal. James Norrington: Would that we could take this plumbing system with us. James Norrington: Personally, I can't wait to return to give the ladies their betrothal gift and join you on the Empress. Elizabeth Swann: Hitting up some EITC vessels for their goods and some more of Beckett's pride... James Norrington: I think I am finally ready to accept this as my life now. James Norrington: I understand the lot of you much better now. Elizabeth Swann: You know i've scarcely been a pirate any longer than you have, love. James Norrington: Yes, but it would seem one cannot go through this kind of goose chase without feeling some sense of camaraderie. Elizabeth Swann: I think we're a little past camaraderie, you and I. James Norrington: The others, love. Elizabeth Swann: oh yeah haha Elizabeth Swann: Who've you been bonding with? I've just been with the girls. James Norrington: The girls. Giselle and her man. Even Barbossa, to a certain extent. He and I disagree on a few important points, to be certain, but the fact remains that it has been good to return to working with pleasant company. James Norrington: I am ready, I think, to return to the world as the King's dog. Elizabeth Swann: I really like Barbossa, but don't tell him I said so. James Norrington: Your secret is safe with me. Elizabeth Swann: Fills maybe a tiny fraction of a certain hole in my life. James Norrington: We shall have all the time in the world for that when we leave this place. Elizabeth Swann: MY FATHER'S DEATH, JAMES Elizabeth Swann: WHO IS SINGLEMINDED ABOUT CARNAL MATTERS NOW James Norrington: Then perhaps I've at least convinced you of said preoccupation. James Norrington: Not as sexless as you believed after all. Elizabeth Swann: OH my God Elizabeth Swann: Will you never let that rest?? James Norrington: I'll let you know as soon as I do. How's that? James Norrington: I would be glad to have your company in any capacity, but I'm in the process of preparing to leave. Tomorrow, if we can. Elizabeth Swann: Really going to miss that beautiful Macy's mattress display. So many lovely memories already. Elizabeth Swann: Thanks for Christmas, darling. James Norrington: The pleasure, I'm sure, was all mine. James Norrington: Is there anything in particular you want me to bring? Elizabeth Swann: I think I've emptied the sex shop. Well, girls and I. James Norrington: Ah. James Norrington: Well. James Norrington: Noted. James Norrington: I'm still making up my mind about these trousers. Elizabeth Swann: Waste not, a very smart man once said to me. James Norrington: I want you to know that I don't intend to leave this place with this hair. I don't mean to deprive you entirely of your enjoyment, but I think I would prefer to go unreminded of both of my previous lives. Elizabeth Swann: I'll permit it. May it be a token of my good will. I am not a tyrant. James Norrington: I'll finally be able to make good on giving you a lock of it. I apologise for the delay. Elizabeth Swann: I'll finally be happy to accept it.I don't suppose I would have earlier.I apologise for the delay. James Norrington: There is nothing for which you need to apologise. James Norrington: Your love is enough.

James Norrington: Give me a little time, and I'll be back to you. Elizabeth Swann: Why, what's happened? I am rather impatient to get together. Elizabeth Swann: I discovered what those large impenetrable aquariums full of plush toys are and how you get them out and I want you to get me one. I am prepared to spend a lot of time on it. James Norrington: Something came up with the crew. I'll try to make it fast. Elizabeth Swann: I hope you are as fast with business affairs as you are otherwise in bed. James Norrington: ❤️

#long post #potcsuggestions #format: chat #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #pl: h34v3nlie måll #norribeth

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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Pantano River: Will and Elizabeth

Will and Elizabeth confront each other at Tia Dalma’s shack on the Eve of Jackquest. This is the conversation that takes place out of earshot during this.

Once left by Tia Dalma - a false friend if there ever was one, thought Elizabeth resentfully - it was impossible to not speak, and both attempted it at once, haughty and apathetic.

“Well-”

“So-!”

And stopped, at once. Will, with a practicedly cool glance downward, nodded his concession to her rank. Which rankled her.

“So what do you think you’re doing here?” asked Elizabeth in a deliberately low voice; if she didn’t keep herself in check, she thought, every man in the building was going to hear the whole story. It was hardly a good place to have an argument; the walls were thin, and she suspected more than one of the multitudes of things - tapestries, mirrors - that decorated them existed to cover up a gap in the planks.

“What do I think? What do you think I’m doing here? I’m here to save Jack. He is my friend, you know,” said Will, walking as though to circle her, then turning away and folding his arms.

“Jack Sparrow isn’t anybody’s friend.”

“Then what’s everyone here to save him for?”

She glared at him. “Jack has his - his way; and I have mine. I declared we were going to do it, so we did.”

Will snorted.

“And Captain Teague is his father, so that’s why he’s here. If you were coming on the mission,” she raised her voice, just slightly, “you didn’t have to keep it a secret.”

“Well, I didn’t want to distract you,” said Will, turning back again.

“That is the stupidest-” Elizabeth stopped herself, biting her tongue, then looking up at him, angry and momentarily dumb with it. It was so hard to keep it all in, everything she wanted to rail at him. All the more reason for her silence. “God dammit, Will,” she whispered, and a tear trickled down her cheek, as she looked down and then up again, and floundered. “Why did you have to turn up now?”

Will had for a moment been ready to pull her into an embrace, and at this he recoiled.

“Things going very well with the commodore, then?” he asked, mouth dry.

“Goddammit,” repeated Elizabeth, contemptuously, with more tears. She forced her voice down, still lower, the effect of this hurting her throat. “You left.”

“What’s that?” asked Will, rounding on her again - daring her to blame him for this - and she rose to the bait.

“You left Tortuga!”

“You could have waited!”

“Oh, what an arrogant presumption-!”

“Arrogance?” repeated Will, all the fight gone from his voice. His eyes searched hers in disbelief, and Elizabeth wanted to take it back - but she couldn’t. It was not that she did not think she was right; she just wished it hadn’t come like that. “Pardon me. My vows meant something.”

“And so did mine, but-”

“You are the one who wanted to- you asked for the annulment.”

“It was too soon! I did not ask you to leave-” said Elizabeth.

“And how long after the annulment did it take before you and he-?”

He could not get the words out, and Elizabeth saw in that that he still loved her. She could not feel gratitude. For Will to hate her now would be natural and even comforting; a man’s hatred could fade into indifference, and she would have had to steel her heart. Against this, she could not armor herself. She didn’t even want to try.

“That isn’t fair. It wasn’t - I didn’t plan it. He arrived just after you left.”

“Ah, but you wasted no time in seizing the opportunity?”

Elizabeth fumbled over her words trying to defend herself, but it was difficult - face to face with Will, even she couldn’t understand herself. And it brought back a rush of memories that she had buried - not only of their time together in Port Royal, or what little they had had since Jack had gone down with the Pearl and Lord Beckett had gripped the Caribbean and started to squeeze, but of her time with James in Tortuga after Will had left her.

Why she and James had gotten together so quickly, she did not know - was it really only because she had needed someone and Will had not been there? And James Norrington’s heart was so reliable. He was everything Will had been - everything she was not. She felt some measure of disgust with herself, which made it difficult to counter his accusations.

She was spared the need when Will continued after a lull in the fighting. “I thought - you told me you didn’t love him.”

“I told you I didn’t know.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Honestly!”

“I don’t know!” she shouted over him. They both stared at each other, in shock at how loud she was, and in the shared realization that this argument was audible in pieces, and that they were really having it, and not just dreaming it, because they were no longer a thing; and then, just as quickly, they both turned away from each other, and inspected their surroundings in Tia Dalma’s ramshackle home, trying to gather their bearings - Will hoping she still loved him, and, cursing himself, that she might say so and entreat him come back, and Elizabeth, hoping he would stop loving her, so that she could stop loving him, if such a thing were even possible.

Elizabeth was looking at some sort of fancy piece of fabric draped over the wall, stitched together with other fabrics, more because too many of the other things to draw the eye were somewhat too gross for it to encounter, and this seemed safe. And it was easy to lose herself in the detail of it, following the stitching, paying close enough attention to see where the thread was changed - and even the hand seemed different, the stitches going from delicate and careful to large and irregular. What a hideous analogy for her life, thought Elizabeth, and turned her head sharply right to look at something else.

The something else was a mummified heart. Elizabeth’s mouth open and shut in offended shock, and her eyes snapped back to the bolt of cloth.

“I just don’t know,” Will said, finally, in a sigh that held all his heartbreak, and forbade Elizabeth to turn and look into his face, “how you cannot know.”

Did she really not know? She hadn’t in Tortuga; it had been true then. Not an hour ago, however, she had told James she loved him. Ah, no; she had said - I think I love you. A different story.

Her stomach felt twisted and knotty. Always like that, her concessions to him - said more to unburden him than to unburden herself. And they always worked; it meant so much to him. Whenever she avoided them, after all, he noticed, didn’t he? Wasn’t he at every moment afraid she would leave? Or as he put it so delicately - he did not believe their situation was a permanent one; he had just told her, she made it sound as though he should not get attached to their life together. Elizabeth did not think about their future, it was true - but she didn’t think about ending it, either.

There was a bolt of gold-colored silk in the little woven tapestry, and Elizabeth placed it, suddenly, as being a piece of her wedding dress. Lord, but it couldn’t possibly have been- and yet it was so exact, Elizabeth turned around again, and realized, only when she looked up, that to Will it had looked like she had some kind of declaration to make.

“...Very well, then. I do.”

She said it very fast and plain, like setting a bone, and Will, in accordance with her speed, looked hurt for a moment before he bottled it up, and said, “You do? Is that all you have to say?”

“God’s sake, Will, what more do you want.”

“I want you,” he said incredulously, and Elizabeth wilted. “I want us - I have never wanted anything else but us.”

“You left me,” Elizabeth whispered, willing herself not to cry at that.

“God! I couldn’t think. All I could hear was that you did not want to be married, that you- I should have stayed. I should have been with you.”

“Yes, you should have been.”

“I should be with you now,” said Will - longingly. Elizabeth pressed her lips together and tried, very hard, not to cry, when she shook her head.

“Don’t, don’t - don’t do that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because-” Elizabeth stopped, reluctant to answer.

“You still love me,” he prompted, reaching out to take her hands. Oh, but what a stupid picture she would make, she thought, if only anyone were to come in and see her - the King of the Brethren Court, visibly trying not to cry as her husband gently kissed her hands, one by one.

“Of course I still love you,” she said, hesitant to speak even a little loudly, for fear she might actually start to cry. “But nothing else has changed. Lord, I think I love him too. I never meant to, but it just...”

Will let go of her, not all at once in disgust, but with a cold realization nonetheless. It was a deliberate and artificial coldness; she could see he chose it, to guard himself.

“Did you lie?” he asked. Her breath caught.

“What? What are you saying?” “Did you feel more than you told me you did? Why else would you….” He still couldn’t get it out. He looked away. She had expected whatever he said next to hurt, but she hadn’t anticipated how much. It prevented her from being able to answer him, so after a moment he looked up again, and addressed her even more pointedly. “And with Jack, too, did you love him?”

“This is insulting,” Elizabeth protested, more to hide her guilt - unwittingly displaying it. “No, I certainly didn’t lie to you - though I could have. I could have so easily said I felt nothing at all, and we could have mended this, but-”

“Then why didn’t you?” Will said, turning sharply to face her again.

“Are you asking me why I wasn’t dishonest?” she demanded.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. I saw you kiss Jack. Like you wanted to-”

“But I only did it to distract him-”

“But you did it!”

“Yes, I did- and I regret it, all right?” Elizabeth responded, bad-temperedly, refusing to give any credence to this line of thought. “Lord, it’s not as though he wasn’t trying, your precious friend Jack, he’d gotten you out of the way and now I was alone and available, so he lied to me about his involvement and then he tried to seduce me. But it’s not Jack that’s in trouble with you, now is it? No, of course he’s your good friend you’ve got to save?”

Will closed the distance between them. “And what’s he to you? Just a good friend? You’re here to save him too.”

Elizabeth flushed, glaring up into his eyes, daring him to cross that line. “Jack Sparrow saved my life once,” she reminded him, testily.

“And threatened it immediately after,” Will pointed out, dryly.

“He crowned me, and I - I killed him. So I owe him - from now till the end of time.” She watched Will, matching his eye contact, as he paced. It hurt to see the relief on his face. He didn’t have a rival in that corner.

“If it’s just- Elizabeth. If you were only lonely….”

She realized all at once what he was saying, or trying to say. That he forgave her for what she did with James - and still wanted her back. The relief that made her feel was uglier still. But it did not last. A breeze weaved through the planks of Tia Dalma’s shack, setting a few trimmings to swaying and causing the candles that lit this room to flicker. It was warm and tropical, smelling of salt and blossoms and mud and vegetation; yet Elizabeth felt a sudden chill, realizing that Will wanted to say that he forgave her, and yet he couldn’t. Perhaps he didn’t.

“If you are asking me to apologize,” she said shortly, “I will not.”

Will’s eyes flashed hurt and anger, but he said nothing of either. He said nothing at all.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she insisted, stepping up to him now, pressing her own chest insistently. “You left. And I did not expect to see you again - not for a long, long time, at any rate. I saved James from a lynch mob barely hours after you departed. I kept him close to me only to protect him. And yes - it progressed. I did not ask it to. Yes, I had been thinking about him before Tortuga - and I confessed as much to you! You knew everything that I did and you left me. So if I am to apologize for - for feelings, over which I had no control - and for happiness, when I had been so unhappy - then I won’t. I will not ask you to forgive me for a crime I’ve not committed.”

“Then am I arrogant,” he repeated, bitterly, “to think that if you felt I left you, and you had not wanted me to - that you would have waited for me? For at least a week? For a month? Do not tell me I hurt you enough in leaving if you were kissing another man within days of my departure-”

“You did!”

“Did I?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” said Will, picking up his hat again, and replacing it on his head. The sense that Will thought of this as merely an argument, one he had won, angered her out of her impending tears. “I left because you hurt me. You wanted our marriage ended. And you were in love with another man. Don’t tell me you thought that was nothing.”

“I wanted to resume our courtship. I thought we married too quickly. It’s one thing in Port Royal, where I thought we were going to take a house and start a family - but now that we’re pirates….”

“I am not a pirate,” said Will quietly. His voice was firm and his eyes were very hard - but inquisitive. He spoke as though testing her, the verbal equivalent of an engagement with sword, and she was powerfully reminded of his lessons. “You don’t have to be one, either. Give your vote to somebody else. You can give it to Jack, and resume a stalemate - or Barbossa, if you choose. He’d owe you one, then.” Will frowned. “Although I don’t - really like Barbossa for it - but the choice isn’t mine, it’s yours.”

Hesitantly, he reached out for her hand, but this time she did not passively let him take it. Will’s shook in midair for a moment, and then he slowly closed his fingers into a loose fist, and lowered it.

“....Forgive me,” he said, in so low a voice he might almost have been laughing to himself. “It’s just that… after all of this time….”

He didn’t finish, and Elizabeth, feeling a little ill, said, too authoritatively, “Out with it.”

He looked up at her.

“....I’d nearly come to think I was good enough for you,” he said, drained of all hostility, devoid of sarcasm; for the first time since she’d told him how she felt in Tortuga, he even tried to smile. She could see him as he had once been: a blacksmith in a grotto, reminding her of her loveless promise to James Norrington. How had they come back around to that?

“Will,” she whispered. “You were always good enough-”

He shook his head, a little of the virulence of his distress returning to him. “I know I am a good man; I don’t need you to tell me that. But good enough for you? Beyond all possible doubt, and any possible hope, I now know that is impossible.”

“I am the Pirate King,” said Elizabeth, declaratively, fiercely. She didn’t care who heard her this time. “If I held men to so high a standard as that, you would all be lost.”

Will blinked at her - a few too many times. Elizabeth caught her breath again, realizing at once what she had done - and could not undo. It wasn’t that what she said weren’t true, but she had not meant it the way it had sounded. But the urge to undo it evaporated, too. Their situation was too clear: if she had waited in Tortuga, if she had not immediately tried to groom James into an appropriate husband, or to retreat into a version of her life where she had chosen him, the better to avoid the heartsickness of losing the man she actually had chosen, Will might have accepted her, once he had cooled down from the indignity of her affections for another man and her desire for the comparable liberty of a courtship over a marriage. But she could not admit she had done wrong without injuring herself, and his perception that she had was too great an injury to Will for him to overcome it.

Where James stood in all of this was as yet too painful even to contemplate, and she saw too clearly she had been using him - just as Angelica and Anamaria had predicted, she was rushing things with him in an effort to absolve herself of her other feelings. A combination of selfishness, loneliness, obligation and lust bound them together, but nothing else, and if there had been any love between them the greater part of it had always been on his side, and he was too weak to keep himself from her when she was offering him the opportunity to play-act the relationship he wanted. Such a wave of unhappiness threatened her that Elizabeth had to compose herself out of all feelings.

They were here for a reason, and Will’s petty dramatics aside, he was here for that reason too.

“Come on,” she said, decidedly. “It’s time to get Jack.”

#ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: turn down for what #potcsuggestions

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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Chat: Elizabeth & James (Dec. 27)

Set after this, just after midnight.

James Norrington: Will you still have me tonight, or ought I to find somewhere else to sleep? Elizabeth Swann: Should I still have you, captain? If you are a liability and all that. James Norrington: I would like for you to have me still. I don't know if I deserve it, but I know what I want. Elizabeth Swann: Then what the hell, James? James Norrington: Wait, to which? James Norrington: I had only assumed that you were disgusted with me beyond repair, but I don't want that. I don't want to be without you. Elizabeth Swann: Did you really brawl with my ex-husband the day after Christmas? Elizabeth Swann: Which heart were you prouder to remind him you possessed - that of Jones, or mine? James Norrington: It really was about Jones. You only entered into it as the greatest reason why I had to prevent him from destroying it. Elizabeth Swann: You couldn't have immediately deferred him to me? James Norrington: As pointless as I know this seems now, I had thought it would be cruel to bring the matter to your attention. I'm sorry that what resulted instead was far crueler. Elizabeth Swann: You chased each other halfway across the mall with fake swords, James! James Norrington: Things escalated. That was my doing. I'm sorry. Elizabeth Swann: Come to Macy's James Norrington: I'll be right there.

#potcsuggestions #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #pl: h34v3nlie måll #format: chat

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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The Black Pearl: James and Elizabeth

The morning after Halloween, James and Elizabeth are moderately hungover. The topic of sex, and sexual boundaries, comes up again.

CW: Carnal matters. Pervasive and occasionally explicit.

The first thing James did on waking the morning after the shipboard Halloween festivities was stumble out of Elizabeth’s cabin as quickly as he could in search of the nearest unoccupied gun port into which he could be sick instead of onto the floor.

The second was to check the time. The third was to blog one single syllable of displeasure while ignoring the laughing of pirates who were probably no less sodden than he was at the moment but enjoyed getting to call out “You all right there, Commodore?” as he groped his way back toward the cabin, wincing.

Elizabeth waited for him there.

Sunglasses. Advil.

A sympathetic smirk.

“Hey, babe,” she said, peering above her own sunnies at him. “Don’t be mad, but I let you sleep. I thought you may require it.”

“I am God’s own idiot,” he said, feeling around the bed in case he had left anything there that he needed to bring above deck, up to and including a pistol with which to shoot himself. “I can't even recall last night-”

“I can.”

“Oh, God,” James muttered.

“You were delicious, and so was the rum.”

“I- wait, what?”

James stopped where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also partook,” she said delicately.

“You- oh God- did we-”

Elizabeth, who had been leaning back on the bed beside him, legs jauntily crossed, suddenly lost her air of smug superiority and flushed.

“If my memory serves- not for lack of trying.”

“Oh, God,” he repeated, leaning forward into his hands. “Were we the only ones-”

“Drinking? Of course not,” she laughed.

“Thank God,” he said. He accepted the Advil and swallowed them dry. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry-”

“For?”

“Making a fool of myself, as ever.”

“Stop panicking,” laugh Elizabeth, patting him on the thigh. “You didn’t.”

“I know, I- wait.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “I didn't?”

“No! You were very popular-”

“In what manner-”

“Charming, very funny - very devil-may-care - you won some money at a dice game. Do you not recall any of this?”

“I might when my head stops splitting.”

Elizabeth eased him back onto the bed, head in her lap, gently rubbing his temple and settling herself against a pillow against the headboard, contentedly.

“I felt like that in the morning, but I’ve vanquished the worst of it,” she said brightly. “Of course I think I had much less than you.”

“You're also not breaking several months of abstinence,” he muttered. “Please stop me next time. I shall try to do better as well, but please-”

“I was already tipsy when you started.”

James winced his eyes shut.

“Ah, he said. “That would explain it.”

He let her massage him for a moment longer before his eyes opened again in wide, startled surprise.

“Popular, though-”

“Center of attention, made everyone laugh. Course, we were all drunk, maybe you weren’t very funny-” Her fingers in his hair grew slow and dreamy as she thought on it. “...and you are a very flirty drunk, James, my lord.”

“With you, I hope-”

Elizabeth started laughing gaily. “Of course with me!”

“Ah, good. With my record, I couldn't be certain-”

“Barbossa banished us here after we got a bit too frisky -” Here Elizabeth herself actually winced, biting her lip and disguising her snarl as another laugh. “That, I am afraid, everybody saw - everybody, and Will.” She realized quickly how James would most likely take that. “...I don’t mean that anybody saw anything but kissing and general flirtation. I doubt Barbossa could handle any more than that.”

“But we didn't… all right. I shall try to live with this.”

James closed his eyes again; even the dim light of the curtained cabin hurt. Elizabeth surreptitiously slid the pair of sunglasses onto his face, which made him frown a little and then relax again.

“I may have destroyed that goodwill by vomiting from a gunport,” he admitted.

“Pirates.”

“Lisbet, I know I'm not terribly popular hereabouts,” he said, slowly leaning his head into her hands, “and I don't expect that to change over one rash night of drinking.”

“Oh, I know. But first of all, the vomiting will change nothing. And second of all…”

She leaned over him to touch noses for a moment.

“...you’re mine and I don’t care.”

He would have kissed her if not for fear of smelling- and worse, tasting- foul. He reached up to caress her hair instead.

“You're a more patient woman than you credit yourself.”

“I’m not. But I adore you.”

“You look well for someone in similar condition.”

“I’ve been awake longer. Had a lot of juice. And a lot of Advil.”

“I must look ghastly,” he said, with a weak laugh.

In truth, he didn't; with his eyes covered, it was impossible to see how bloodshot they were, which was the only real resemblance he bore to his former drunken squalor. His beard was trimmed and in good shape, and his hair, though a little sweat-dampened at the moment, had grown out enough to look intentional and maintained again at last.

“Don’t now and certainly didn’t last night. I distinctly remember. You leaned on everything and flicked your hair out of your eyes with insouciance. When we made it to the bed you had your knees wide apart. You were inviting.”

“...oh, my God,” he said, sounding mortified. “Only toward you, I hope-”

“Only me - James, you were more attentive to me than you are sober-”

“...ah,” he said, taking a moment to process this. “I'm… sorry?”

“I’m not!”

“I would kiss you,” he said, “but I've been sick-”

“Noted,” she said, wrinkling her nose and laughing again. In truth, her headache had not fully subsided - sitting in the dimmer cabin with sunglasses on sipping unsweetened tea was not what she regularly liked to do for fun - but James feeling worse made her feel better by comparison, and it was also, more favorably, a pleasant distraction to dote on him.

“If you’ll give me a moment to brush my teeth, I will make up for that-”

“Also noted,” she said delightedly.

James pushed himself up- it took a couple of tries- and stretched, though he had to lean on the wall for a moment.

“Perhaps I don’t need to be as abstaining as I thought,” he said, “if this is the greeting I receive the following morning.”

“On holidays, anyway,” she said gamely.

“And ashore, perhaps,” said James. “When I needn’t be on-task-”

“Oh, perhaps - I can permit that. Less than you drank yesterday, of course-”

“How much did I drink?” His voice was muffled by the toothbrush.

“Enough not to remember today, apparently,” she laughed at him. “Enough that last night, we couldn’t…”

“That’s for the best.”

“Indeed,” she laughed. “We were about to go full speed ahead, no quondam!”

James took a mouthful of water and then pried open the window to spit.

“Thank God for the carnal failures of drunken men. I doubt I could have sustained it to begin with.”

Elizabeth got to her feet slowly, adjusting her belt in a haughty, masculine gesture, before striding across the room towards him. Her boots brought her there quickly. It was such a small space - intimate, one might say.

“I believe I expressed an interest in proceeding otherwise before falling asleep. Ah, well. I am sure I had very…pleasant dreams,” said Elizabeth, leaning her back against the wall beside him, the picture of innocent intent.

James took off the sunglasses and winced, but he needed to rub his eyes. He had to flick his hair back again to do so, and made a little noise of irritation at having to, but it was more flattering falling around his face whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“A drunken man is no good in bed,” James said as he tugged on the dusty curtain covering the window.

“Seems a drunken woman is very quick to go there, regardless,” said Elizabeth promptly, smoothing his wrinkled shirt.

“At least I now know that I am still capable of socially acceptable behavior while in my cups,” James muttered.

She smiled up at him distractedly. “Indeed.”

“You enjoyed this too much,” he said, faintly alarmed.

“It was enjoyable,” she said, a hint of shyness entering her manner. From Elizabeth, shyness was a contradictory trait; even when she visibly felt it, it did not hinder her frankness. In some contexts it even transformed itself into courage, but as far as James was concerned, it was generally precipitous of new boldness. Sure enough, Elizabeth glanced him over, parted her lips and said, “And I may permit you to do it again, with supervision.”

“With supervision,” James repeated.

“My supervision.”

“Your very sober supervision.”

“...not really what I had in mind.”

“I may be fresh enough for that kiss now.”

“Indeed?” the Pirate King asked, and gave it to him.

“Mm-”

He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and had to cling more than he’d planned. Elizabeth misinterpreted this, and pulled him closer to her with a little gasp. “Oh, James-”

He kissed her one last time and added, “At least now I have the comfort of getting drunk before you jab me with your little needle, I suppose-“

Elizabeth’s hands pushed themselves up his chest to clutch his lapel and haul him back down to kiss her again.

“You do -”

“Ah-”

He kissed her, hefting her up clumsily into his arms and then staggering just enough from his lingering dizziness to have to hold her up with one arm as he flung the other behind himself to brace with, flicking his hair back again unthinkingly. The waviness that had been visible in his low year was beginning to show again, though at this length it was more of a perpetual floppy tousle.

Unable to keep upright with her in his arms, James carried her toward the bed again and sat down with a thump.

“I shall have to let you cling more in trousers today, I think, if I am to keep you up-“

“Oh, really?” she asked softly, looking him dead in the eyes as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened them.

James opened his mouth to say something, looking a little startled, then paused.

“You've got a bit of-”

He tugged it away, to slight resistance, and held it up to show her. It was a little wisp of false hair that had still been stuck to her cheek.

She made a face.

“How drunk was I?” he asked, looking mildly alarmed. “I can’t even place what this is-“

“Drunker than I remember seeing you,” she said with a shrug.

“All right,” he concluded. “Never mind- I shouldn't do this again just-”

“James,” she said, urgently, tightening her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“I’m bound to do something stupid eventually- I apologize for my laxness.”

“It was a party,” she said, not altogether displeased he didn’t remember her as Barbossa, but not altogether happy he didn’t remember curling his forefinger under her chin with an out-of-focus smirk as he kissed her in spite of that.

“I'm not losing myself in my thoughts now,” he said, trying to lean back to look at her, “if that's what you're worried about. I'm only… taking stock of things.”

“James. Come down here.”

“Yes?”

There wasn’t very much there to go down, but he did his best. Elizabeth enfolded him in her arms, pressing his face into her chest and sinking her fingers into his hair.

“Shut up.”

James groaned. “M’apologies.”

He laced his fingers into her hair from his awkward position below, realized his face was level with- pressed against!- her breasts, and quickly tried to lift himself away from them, but Elizabeth was having none of it.

“Stay here,” she said firmly. “At least until your Advil’s kicked in.”

“Lisbet, this is a rather compromising position-”

“Hmm?” she asked wryly, scruffling his hair.

“My face is in your-”

She tilted his chin up with her fingertips.

“Better now?”

He looked a little dazed as he leaned his cheek on her shoulder instead.

“You don't have to stay here.”

“Low wind today, plus two other captains on board without hangovers.” Elizabeth paused. “At least, I don’t think Teague’s hungover. I know he drank last night, but - does it make any difference to him, at this point? And you know how Barbossa is. Well, the point is, I don’t have a lot else to do, and the sun is really bright.”

“Saving our strength for the cave. That's what we'll call it.”

She snorted.

“Everyone knows we’re hungover, Captain Norrington.”

“You as well?”

“Yeah?”

“I assumed you hid it around the rest of them, and didn't go running for a gunport for fear you couldn't open the window in time.”

“No, I didn’t make it to a gunport,” she grimaced. “You slept right through it. Cleaned it up myself, though. I don’t try to make it out like I’m better’n anyone else is.”

“I could have helped you with that, if I were not so drunk myself,” he said. “Whatever you're doing with my hair, don't stop-”

Even in the midst of the hangover, the humidity, the headache, her heart melted.

“Oh, James,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes?” he asked, leaning into her touch. “I could hold you instead if you'd prefer-”

“No,” she said, helpless, “it’s just… you’re so…. not-you.”

“Hungover? Unfortunately, that's very me.”

She let it rest there.

“Regardless, I think I ought to hold you a little longer.”

“I'll permit it.”

He allowed himself to lean against her without holding himself back at last, with a sigh. Elizabeth abruptly shifted, changing her mind- preferring to lean back on the bedspread again, with James resting against her that way. But soon they had returned to a dreamy state of idleness, Elizabeth coddling him and smiling up at the ceiling half-wittedly.

“How is your ex-husband managing,” James asked softly.

“Sober and fairly well pleased with himself,” she said, more shortly than she meant to.

“Ah,” said James. “I hope he has not given you any trouble-?”

“No.”

“Ah. Good; we last spoke under… difficult terms.”

He paused.

“A running theme, it would seem. No matter; I'm glad enough knowing you're mine now.”

She smiled, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, but it helped her unwind nonetheless. It was only then she realized how tense she’d become and let out a short bark of laughter.

“Forgive me, I’m… I wish he weren’t on this voyage,” she admitted. “It’s difficult… knowing he’s here.”

“Presumably this will be the end of it. I do owe him some reconciliation with his father. I promised him that much, and I prefer keeping my word.”

“Yes, I know,” she said distantly.

“My God,” he said distantly. “I was so far beyond hope that you would ever choose me over him, and yet…”

She ruffled his hair - perhaps a little bit sadly.

“Watching you,” James murmured, “in the heat- in your trousers, without a coat- without so much as jumps, at that-”

“What, sweating?” she said flatly.

“Perhaps a little,” he said. “It makes you glisten.”

“What about it?” she asked, mystified.

“It is intensely attractive.”

She laughed, startled, and then she sighed, loudly, fondly, his name.

“Your hair fanning behind you,” he added. “It reminds me of how fortunate I am.”

She’d been going to tease him about his preference for boys, real or imagined, before he said that. Not only did she no longer have an opening for such a joke, she no longer had the heart for it. Elizabeth rubbed the back of his neck.

Tenderly, she prompted, “Fortunate?”

“To be the man with whom you have chosen to spend your life,” he said. “To say nothing of having the privilege of watching you strut about the deck like that and knowing I may take you to bed later-”

“James!” she gasped, in delighted shock. “That’s very forward of you - I approve.”

“I can only imagine most men prefer their wives in skirts so as to avoid being unduly preoccupied by them otherwise,” James said dryly.

“And do you find yourself unduly preoccupied by me?” she asked, perhaps too giddy.

“Often,” said James. “Too often by far-”

She bit her lip and smirked up at the ceiling.

“You don't know the effect you can have on a man, Lisbet,” said James, in a faraway sort of tone. “Every inch of you. There was a moment some weeks ago when you had tucked your hair under your hat and I found myself held at a disadvantage by the back of your neck.”

That knocked the smirk off her face. Instead of pride, she found her immediate reaction was disbelief. And this from her dull suitor of only a few years ago - reconciling this confession with that was a bit much to overcome.

“My- really? My neck?” she asked, gracelessly.

“That one, I confess, is not new- not with how often your hair was done away from it in Port Royal,” he conceded. “I suppose it was the reminder of that.”

“When did that start?” she pressed on, still bewildered. “It’s not a feature that changes with maturity.”

“I seem to recall it around the time I had begun to love everything about you,” he said, rather simply.

It would do very little good to dwell on it - she had already gone over why countless times - and at this point James seemed to wince every time it came up that she wished she had noticed the sincerity - the severity - of his affection sooner. But Christ!

“Well, it’s all yours now,” she said, even if she could not fully understand what allure the back of the neck could possibly have - she still understood that if a smallish thing like that could provoke him then he must want her very much indeed.

“I think,” he said slowly, eyes shut, “it was the thought of being permitted to touch it, and the intimacy such an act would entail.”

Elizabeth dislodged him only very slowly as she sat up, only to look down at him a long moment, tracing her fingertip over his lips.

“...Would you like to?”

“Lisbet,” he began, embarrassed. “It's not- I was merely struck by the memory while watching you storm about the place in an unlaced shirt and trousers-”

“Well, if you want to - I think I’d like it,” she said hesitantly.

James sat up with some difficulty, flinching against the sunlight as he opened his eyes again. Elizabeth's hair was down at the moment, but that only added to the sensation as he pushed his hand under it to rest at the back of her neck, as lightly as an insect on a leaf.

“...like this,” he said softly.

Elizabeth parted her lips, and her eyes widened just slightly - but she could not speak for a moment. When she found it in her to move, she leaned in and rested her head, tremulously, on his shoulder. James threaded his fingers through her hair.

“I couldn't bear to dwell on this-”

“- because I had made you no promise,” she surmised.

Elizabeth released a breath she had not known she was holding.

“I am so relieved that things fell into place such that I did not lose out on this. On… you,” she confessed, and pressed her face into the area between his neck and shoulder, her arm creeping around his back to embrace him. He put both arms around her and held tight.

“I wish I could make this sound like anything but the lowest of lust-”

“It doesn’t,” Elizabeth snorted. “That’s - God help me, that was what I was experiencing concurrently. Thinking about a blacksmith’s toned arms,” she deadpanned. “I do know that what I had with Will was real… eventually. At that point, it was nothing more than a daydream about a boy I barely knew. At least… at least you knew me.”

“I thought I did, at least,” he said, with a sad smile. He kissed her temple through her hair.

“Enough to know you should like to know me better,” she amended.

“Well,” he said, “now I do. I suppose it ended as well as it could have?”

“As my dog, you mean? You seem to handle it well-”

There might have been a pun in that.

“Elizabeth,” said James. “I scarcely know what I'm speaking of- I would have always- I cannot imagine not loving you, regardless of everything else-”

Elizabeth barely bit back a smile, touching his face as though hesitant to actually lay her hand on him - as though it would pass right through him.

“Oh, well then.”

“I hope that's not overmuch-”

“Hardly, but I don’t know what provoked it-”

“I rather dwell on the thought.”

She laid her hand on his rough cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth affectionately.

“...more than I care to admit,” he said, without looking at her.

“Because I am less amenable than you would like?” she asked, following his gaze, and cupping his face in her hands, leaning in to give him a kiss in apology.

“No- no, you’ve done nothing wrong-” James protested, lowering his eyes, flustered. Elizabeth laughed against his lips, deepening the kiss - she loved when he got like this.

“I tell you I don’t dwell on this - not like you do. But it rests at the back of my mind, like - “

She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him again, her fingers gently pressing the crown of his head.

“- like a pressure, and then I give it some mind, and it becomes-”

She gripped his hair - slowly, and not enough that it could pain him, but certainly enough to be felt.

“-overpowering-”

“Elizabeth-”

“I’ll just look across the deck, and see the faint glimmer of red in your hair, and take note of the figure you cut, and it will all hit me at once,” Elizabeth confided, her lips against his, but not yet kissing him, and with her hand as it was, he couldn’t lean in to do it himself. “That man is mine. To do with as I please. As it pleases him.”

She cupped the back of his head as she kissed him. James gasped against her lips, closing his eyes again.

“...red?” he repeated faintly. It was just about the only thing he could seize on that wasn’t going to exacerbate the situation beginning to happen down below. The alcohol was clearly no longer that present in his system.

“Mm, yes. So strange; you have such dark hair. It’s really lovely, you know. And it’s grown out almost curling,” she said, wrapping a lock around her finger possessively, adoringly.

“It- yes,” he said awkwardly, trying to keep on a safe topic. “It always has- I suppose it merely doesn’t show after a certain point. Er, thank you-”

Her fingers moved to his chin and glided down his throat in continued approval. “I suppose I do not like it as you like mine - I can think of no one in the world who has liked anything, the way you seem to like my hair - but my word, James. That wig did your cause more damage than you have caused any buccaneer in the Caribbean. I have so much lost time to account for, and I shall begin by recognizing your beauty - you are beautiful, James. Moreso now I can be prideful to have you, too-”

“I- thank you,” he said again. “It’s- well, had we married, I certainly would not have worn the damned thing in private-”

“Yes, I can only imagine now we are as good as married what it would have been like: very different to my expectations. And if you had touched the back of my neck as you do now,” she said, with a mean twinkle in her eyes, “or certainly if you had ever put your hands in my hair as you are wont, I would have fallen desperately in love with you, and lived happily ever after.”

“I can only hope I would have,” he said, taking a handful of her hair as he said so and bringing it to his lips to kiss its length.

She shivered.

“I don’t understand. I don’t feel that, and yet…”

“It is not… conditional on your hair- I hope that much is clear-”

“It is, but -” Elizabeth bit her lip, genuinely conflicted. “Is it strange, though - is it wrong, that the way you like it… affects me?”

James stopped mid-kiss.

“...it affects you?”

“Yes,” she said, self-conscious.

“...ah,” James said awkwardly. “I hope that’s acceptable-”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I merely want to know if you think it’s wrong- or unusual-”

“I don’t- why would I?”

“You know rather a lot more about relations between men and women than I do -”

“I don’t find it perverse, if that’s what you fear-”

“No,” she said with a laugh. “Weird, at most-”

“I’ve seen weirder,” he said flatly.

“No doubt, in the King’s navy,” she said, holding his chin fondly, and kissing him. James finally laughed again and returned it.

“No, darling, I don’t think there’s anything too odd about it. My only concern is that you find my affections shallow.”

“Less so than my own, I assure you,” said Elizabeth, pulling his shirt open.

“Mm- I shall do my utmost to avoid any permanent injuries, then.”

She ran her hand liberally over his chest, then leaned in to kiss his collarbone. “Touch my hair again,” she murmured.

James obediently began pushing his fingers through it with a light laugh. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Good boy-”

“Elizabeth.”

“I can’t resist that any more than you can resist me.”

He nuzzled into her hair. “Duly noted.”

She let out a sharp sigh.

“Oh, this does wonders for what remains of my misery,” she said contentedly. “Being here with you. Though I am sure being more hydrated helps. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“This is a wonderful distraction,” he said, though his eyes were still closed. “I shall manage.”

“Or be managed, as the case may be. As the case is, I should say.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes, love?”

“You understand that your physical charms are not all that has gained my interest, I hope?”

“I certainly never imagined so,” said Elizabeth, with the full knowledge that she had been taller and lankier and considerably longer in the chin than most women who were considered beautiful would be. Besides, she had very little bosom to speak of. “I can only assume you were bewitched by the idea of a bride who wouldn’t obey a single thing you said.”

James ignored that last jab. “Very well. As long as you understand that I am… aware of the difficulties of this life, and the damages it may inflict-”

“Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. “You’re so morbid, James.”

“You have reminded me often enough that we may not survive this voyage,” said James. “I have reminded myself in turn that there are worse things than that that can befall one at sea.”

“We’ll just have to appreciate each other as though there is no tomorrow,” she said, smiling.

James kissed her again, making a proprietary fist in her hair as he did.

“Good,” he said firmly. “I would hate for you to have runaway ideas about my losing interest in you were you to be without this due to some mishap or another, and that’s only one example.”

“I don’t, but do you really have to speculate on it?” she groaned. It was not a noise to indicate desire for once.

“It tends to occupy the background of one’s thoughts while thinking of marriage,” James retorted.

“Mutilation does? Are you certain? Are you really very certain?”

“In the Navy it certainly does!”

“Surely not one’s wife’s mutilation, though,” she said dubiously.

“If one is to take her to sea, it's a matter which must unfortunately be weighed. Mrs. Fenton had a halt in her step for some time, though I understand she eventually recovered-”

“Don’t you think,” she baited him, “that you should have given me some notion of that before you married me? Not a word during our engagement. Why, you would have had me under false pretences.”

“I would have offered you the chance to stay home,” said James, “and full awareness of the risks. But I also intended to surprise you with the offer to accompany me to sea-“

“An offer I would have gladly accepted - rather more gladly than I had the man who made it,” said Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders much like a happy wife would.

“I’m flattered,” James said dryly.

“Who knew that underneath it all, you had such....” Her eyes moved from his, almost unconsciously, down to his bared chest and throat, and she wetted her lips, and looked at him again, and gave a small, helpless shrug. “-character.”

“Thank you,” he said, even more flatly.

“How glad I am I got to know you better after all,” said Elizabeth, rubbing her hand along his chest once more and dipping a finger between his pectoral muscles with approval. James followed her finger down with his eyes.

“Are you- all right, I shall accept a compliment where I can find it, but God, if it's not a little overwhelming.”

“What, pray tell, do you mean,” asked Elizabeth, her own eyes also following the trespasses of her fingers, as they now strayed over the full expanse of his chest. Her touches were light, but purposeful and possessive.

“For you to have cared so little, and not too long ago, to this- it’s rather a lot-“

“Oh, James,” she said, eyes meeting his abruptly with a wince of guilt.

James lay his hand against her cheek.

“Forgive me, that was- unnecessarily harsh.”

“Not so harsh as fate’s been to you,” she said, cupping her hand over his and turning her face to kiss his palm. “I do care for you now - I cared for you before, just not as you hoped.”

She mulled over her thoughts only a moment before committing to what it came to her mind to say. “I love you.”

“It certainly took you long enough,” James said, though not unwarmly or accusingly.

He kissed her. “I love you, too.”

Elizabeth frowned into the kiss, but did not end it - kissed back, harder, as though it were a competition. “I - did not realize - it was a matter of any - urgency-”

“I pride myself on punctuality,” said James.

“And I on my free spirit-”

“All right, I grant you that-”

“I do not need your permission for it,” she practically sneered, but something in her tone of voice was hungry and pleading regardless. “Grant me something else-”

Small wonder what else she could want.

“We still haven’t any quondams, Lisbet,” he reminded her. It was rather a pity; release was good for a headache.

“Let me have it anyway,” she commanded, tossing her hair while gripping his. In spite of the roughness with which she handled him, she never really forgot herself - Elizabeth was always careful to not yank his hair. If the firmness of her grip startled him, it would at least never hurt. “I want you in my mouth.”

James stared at her, momentarily deprived of speech.

“...I’m… amenable,” he said, eyes still widened, his whole body bowstring-tense.

She took his hands in hers then, guiding one to her mouth and the other to the crotch of his trousers. She teasingly took the tips of his fingers between her lips, while her other hand entwined their fingers and rubbed at his groin.

“All right- all right, I'm awake now-”

“Still amenable, darling?”

“You make a strong case-”

“Mm. Awake indeed, my love,” she said, her face lighting up. “Now… To begin with, I’ll want you to take your shirt off.”

It wasn't hard; his shirt was already mostly open. James did not break eye contact with her as he chucked it aside.

“All right.”

Elizabeth released his hands and reached out for him, burying her face against his chest for a moment and breathing him in. He smelled of sour sweat and spilled rum, but other, more pleasant odors took over for her - the spices of the rum, the taste of salt, the familiar scent of his skin. She kissed him, and then she bit him - then she pulled back to assess that she had done him no wrong.

“What was that?”

He was, to be fair, more bemused than anything.

“Does that heighten your enjoyment?”

“...not particularly,” he admitted, “though it scarcely retracted from it either-”

“Pity - it does mine,” said Elizabeth, trying a different approach - she resumed her kisses, but more slowly, and more gently; and then after a time, introduced the application of her tongue.

“I don’t know how you can do that,” he said, watching her with a sort of detached lordliness. “I expect I must taste foul after last night.”

“I like your taste.”

“Perhaps I shall let you wash me when you’re done,” he said, leaning back and shutting his burning eyes again.

“Oho, I did not offer to-”

“Maybe I am telling you to,” said James.

“Sorry, what’s that, dog?”

“I cannot be blamed for trying.”

“Mm.” The censure of her kisses was mild, at least. She did consider withdrawing to tease him, but she didn’t particularly want to deny herself just because he was being disobedient. She would have to show him that being in her power was too enjoyable to give up.

“Mm what-”

“James, you are not being appreciative.”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I did not notice your enjoyment of having the tables turned against you the last time I held you down to the bed.”

“Yes, you’re a big strong man, I know,” she said dryly.

“I might do it again later,” he retorted, beginning to smile vaguely with his eyes still closed.

“Are you planning on acting bored then, too?” asked Elizabeth, her patience starting to fray.

“I never claimed to be bored,” said James, as he blindly felt along her arm and back until he had found her neck and could slip his fingers across the back of it. “In fact, I am enjoying myself a great deal at the moment.”

That made up for it for the time being. After a little more dallying, Elizabeth moved downward.

James tensed and opened his eyes.

His breathing heavy but even, he moved his hand upward to grasp at her hair.

“I think,” he said, “that I may have to provide you with some direction.”

Elizabeth gasped.

“James!”

“I rather thought your majesty liked this-“

“She’s - amenable -”

“Ah. Good for her, then. Continue-“

“May I undress you?”

“Yes- yes, please-“

“Please?”

“Yes-“

“That all? You don’t seem to want it much-”

“I’m a little distracted-“

“By what, pray tell?” asked Elizabeth, as she freed him from his trousers. “Mm, imagine how I should have gasped to see this once.”

“With- delight, one can only hope-“

Elizabeth, heedless of his hand in her hair, came up to nose at his throat, her friendliness in this manner softening the heartlessness of her teasing.

“Commodore Norrington, it’s enormous-”

“Elizabeth!” James blurted, covering his face with his free arm.

Elizabeth laughed and pulled him sweetly down to her, running her fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head.

“Elizabeth- what in God’s name was that-“

“Realism.”

“Oh my God-“

She slid her hand down between his thighs again. “It really is, too, you know,” she said conversationally.

“Is this- you don’t go telling others anything about this, do you-“

“Our secret.” She kissed him, while at the same time giving him a squeeze.

“Oh my God-“

James involuntarily released her hair. She made a noise of surprised displeasure, and he grabbed at it again in a scrambling hurry.

“If we are to do this, I need to tell you where to go-“

“What, have I been doing it wrong,” she said dubiously.

“No, it’s- I was put off. I lost my train of thought-“

Elizabeth kissed him on the throat and continued touching him, trying to coax him into remembering.

“...squeezing will do that, you know,” James added, a little crossly.

“Pardon me my eagerness to touch you, Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth - herself out of breath now. “You must know how you linger in my thoughts, distract me with longing-”

“A welcome change of affairs, to be certain-”

He regained his grip and tightened it.

“Strange and - unexpectedly -” she managed, before giving up on conversation altogether - having one’s hair pulled will do that.

“I shall have to ensure my place in them, then, will I not?”

She groaned.

“There are a lot of places I’d like to have you in -”

“Most pertinently, your mouth-”

“And you?” she implored, beginning her earlier attentions again - more slowly than earlier, so as to not get him off track again. “Do you want to put yourself there?”

“I,” said James, “would be satisfied to put you there myself-”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened of its own accord - not as a reaction to the conversation at hand, but out of dimly interested shock. Something in her brain slowed and stopped processing information when James said filthy things.

“And I do seem to have a good handle with which to direct you, rather than trying to speak on it-”

Elizabeth thought about another smart-ass remark; she was the Pirate King, a pirate lord and captain well beyond simply being voted into the position by men who had wanted to fuck her. Scourge of the Caribbean or no, James Norrington had better respect her or else. But her mouth seemed to have some trouble in catching up with her thoughts; she was too tongue-tied for a single comeback.

It was not like Elizabeth to be flustered. That in and of itself was worth some analysis, and she thought suddenly of what he had said a moment ago about turning the tables.

Damn him, he wasn’t wrong.

Finally she managed to half-stammer out a reply. “I’ll - I’ll permit that.”

“Do you desire it, or merely permit it?” James asked. “I would hardly see you forced.”

She grit her teeth for a moment, but he had but to tilt his hand in her hair just slightly enough for her to feel the tug for her to open her mouth again.

“I want it - James, direct me-”

“...Elizabeth,” he began, “are you certain-”

Elizabeth laid her hand on his chest and met his eyes. Words came to her, but left just as quickly. Instead she nodded emphatically. James was immediately struck by a pang of regret.

“Mm,” he said. “Come up here and kiss me first. I would rather you here than there to begin with.”

“I’ve no doubt,” she snorted, though she wasted no time in entwining her arms around his shoulders. “I am trying to acclimate you.”

“If you insist on going down there, I’d prefer to have a degree of control,” James retorted, leaning back to embrace her properly and kiss her.

“We’ve established I don’t mind that-”

“I’ve noticed.” He looked rather amused by this, in fact.

“Do you remember- in Tortuga, you said to me, early on, ‘You don’t have to be the Pirate King in here,’” said Elizabeth distantly.

“Mm. Yes, I think so-”

“It seems,” she said, with the utmost seriousness, “that you really meant it.”

“What does that mean-”

“Did you want a degree of control?”

“I try not to think of it.”

“Usually, from you,” she said cannily, “that means you do want it.”

“I mean,” he said, with a laugh as he looked at her, “that I try not to think of any of it at all. It’s bothersome at best-”

“You’re so boring, James,” she complained, pushing her aggrieved fingers through his wavy hair. “I think about it as often as I can spare. It’s such a welcome reprieve from the chores of daily life.”

“Ah- keep doing that. In any case, I suppose you don’t find it a chore in itself-”

“What, basket-making? Don’t be absurd.”

“We have not yet made any baskets,” James groused, “and I expect you will find that more of a chore than you think when the option arrives.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” said Elizabeth, pressing their bodies still more closely together. “When we’ve been together and you are near me like this I think I am going to pass out from how much I want to have you in me.”

James grit his teeth and gasped.

“The feeling is mutual-”

“Besides - if I need finishing,” she baited him, a smile hovering over her lips, “you’ll finish me, won’t you?”

“Yes-”

He had turned his face away from hers.

Elizabeth gently tugged where her hand was still in his hair.

“James. What is it? What’s the matter.”

“Nothing is the matter,” he said. “I'm a bit sore, that's all. Don't worry about me, please. Last night must have been rather a lot-”

“Changing the subject away from intercourse, when we were just about to have it - that’s a matter all right.”

“Am I not allowed to wish to treasure you a little first-”

“I feel a little oppressed by your treasuring,” said Elizabeth testily. “It begins to sound like excuses.”

“If it's an inability you fear,” said James, “I would have thought you noticed that my body is more than prepared for such an activity-”

“A reluctance of the spirit,” she said. She longed to touch him again, but forced herself to keep her hands well above his waist until she had ascertained the truth of his discomfort; she could not force him.

James noticed this, and gently- almost apologetically- took her hand by the wrist and moved it downward.

“I would rather look you in the eye.”

“Going to be somewhat difficult, don’t you think?”

“Then that's the matter.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hand in some reluctance, but she did not feel comfortable floating through this activity unbothered; there were things that had to be addressed, first of all, and she was perplexed by his seeming dislike of her seeing to his pleasure - which, in being denied opportunity to do so, had become more of an object to her recently than achieving her own, which was a feat in and of itself.

“James,” she said plaintively.

“If you insist on it,” he said, taking hold of her hair again, “then get back down there, and we’ll have done for it.”

“Not if you’re going to behave like this about it -” Elizabeth bit her lip and twisted a little in his grasp, her emotional turmoil making her physically restless. “At least tell me why you don’t like it-”

“I've told you,” he said. “I prefer bringing you off, that's all.”

“It ruins my pleasure to have you forsake yours,” said Elizabeth coaxingly. “You enjoy it, why can’t I?”

“Elizabeth,” he said.”It's only a preference. Please don't trouble yourself about it-”

“Well, it’s a burden to me,” she said, pulling a face. “I want to make you want me… I want to overwhelm you as you do me.”

“I do not wish to be overwhelmed,” he said, after a long pause. “It's uncomfortably like being drunk.”

Elizabeth looked unbearably cranky.

“You like being drunk,” she said peevishly.

“Only in the moment,” he shot back.

“You seem to like the anticipation of it, too, but not this.” It was clear her mood had taken a turn for the foul, and a sharp one at that, since she had moments ago been dewy-eyed and leaning on him. Now her posture was stiff and her movements all harsh. Her hand was still in his hair, but it rested there unmoving as stone.

“I don't know about that. I drank a great deal last night and am all the worse for it today, as evidenced by the grabbing you by the hair and dragging you downward like some kind of beast-”

“I think I would have remembered if that had happened-”

“You fell silent- I feared I had hurt you, frightened you in some way-”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Elizabeth cried out, unwilling to hide her disgust with this new inanity - she pulled her hands away from him with a swiftness that bordered on cruelty, even though she did not hurt him in any way.

James, for his part, did not move- only watched her.

“If you insist,” he said, more than a little peevishly at this point, “then you may get down there and handle the matter yourself. That's what you want, isn't it-”

“No, it’s not,” she said heatedly. “I just want -”

She cut herself off from speaking any further on that subject, and glared at him fiercely.

James sat up and watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something. He was still at attention, and felt unspeakably grotesque for it. He tried to conceal it by tilting his hips to one side and pulling up the covers.

“I know what I want,” he said, “but I am disgusted by my wanting it. With myself, most of all.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. She was trying to keep up her anger, but, as was typical from her, as soon as the opportunity came to put it aside, she couldn’t help it.

“Why? That’s - that’s all I want from you. I just want to be wanted.”

“I do want you- I've even told you how-”

“Every time I indicate how much I want to attend to you, you reject me-”

“I don't want to be rendered helpless, Elizabeth-”

“I thought that was the entire point of your directing me!”

“That's different- that's- good God, Elizabeth, I don't want to-”

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he said something he would regret.

Like the suggestion that her husband was still on board if she'd prefer.

“I don't derive the pleasure from that you expect me to,” James said, in a carefully even voice. “I struggle to maintain the personal desire for it even as my body makes a crude show of it. Directing you felt as though I might be able to pull you off when I chose- make it a game- and instead you seemed so shocked and compliant that I felt ashamed of having desired it at all. If that's what you desire, then I will have you back down there before you leave this room again, and try not to regret my enjoyment if I do- but at least permit me my concern, especially after the discovery that I am far less prudent when drunk.”

He laughed bitterly. “I apologize if that makes me defective to you in some way.”

“It does,” she said shortly.

“I thought I had frightened you.”

Elizabeth was warring with her own desire to fling into his face that this was the very reason she had not wanted to marry him - something she had anticipated enjoying with Will - but at that all meanness fled, leaving her without much energy, but considerably less ill will.

Miserably, she said, “You hadn’t.”

“Your face went so blank, so slack- I thought you were resigned, at best.”

She put her arms around his shoulders again, shakily. “I was aroused, you colossal idiot.”

“That isn't how you are usually inclined towards showing it-”

“My brain just…”

She made a little twisting gesture with her fingers.

“- turned off, like a phone.”

“In a good way, I hope-”

“In a very good way-”

“-ah.”

He paused.

“Do you still want to try-”

“Do you? You’ve just explained to me you feel no personal desire for me-”

“You misunderstood me- good God, I want you to the point of preoccupation-”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Elizabeth?”

She tossed her hair, tilting her head to meet his eyes confrontationally.

“...you don't suppose I could have a go between your thighs, do you? I can't guarantee it will be of much use to you, but unfortunately, what I would most prefer is impossible at the moment.”

“Why is that so much preferable to what I wanted?”

“I can look at you, for one,” said James.

Elizabeth tried to give him a frank look, but a smile broke through regardless. A little embarrassed, she managed only, “Oh?”

“Rather more personal than shoving you down between my legs, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Will you forget it’s me if you can’t look into my eyes? I’m curious-”

“I prefer sharing the moment, that’s all.”

“Fine,” said Elizabeth, perhaps touchily, and perhaps also to hide her smile. “May I get you started, though?”

“Yes,” he said, “though you'll find I'm rather far along-”

“What, even through this conversation,” said Elizabeth dubiously, moving her hand to between his legs again. The same slack expression of surprise came into her face.

“It's been rather trying,” James said flatly.

“So why do you still-” she started, even as she started on him with her hand - gently at first, but still having to shut her eyes.

“-yes?”

He was not entirely comfortable with this, but kept his face carefully blank lest she opened her eyes and got a good look at him again. It was worth it for her sake.

“Mm- why are you still…? Nevermind,” she said, biting her lip and smiling as she looked up at him again. This was what he’d said he wanted - to look at her.

“Dulling it takes time,” James said vaguely.

“So that’s why the sailor prefers to roll over and go to sleep, rather than fantasize about the girl he left behind,” she teased him. Her touch remained gentle - she wanted to feel him desperately, but she did not want to help him too far along, if he were going to go between her legs again.

“Now you begin to understand-“

“But you don’t have to dull it anymore, James,” she whispered, nearly kissing him. “You have me now. Let me take care of you.”

“Don’t- Elizabeth-“

He began to laugh, embarrassed, and covered his face.

Elizabeth put both of her arms around him now, but more vexed than truly comforting. “What is it-”

“It’s nothing-“

“Nothing? You can’t look me in the eye-”

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage.”

“What’s that, that you’re aroused? I would hate to be the one to inform you, but so am I-”

“I know-“

He looked at her, bleary-eyed and grinning.

“Good heavens, it’s not so much, Elizabeth- you needn’t think of it as taking care of me.”

“My sweet Captain,” said Elizabeth, matching his grin, “I don’t. I think of it is as fucking you, and I love it.”

“You haven’t yet,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “We haven’t the necessary equipment for that yet, either-“

“You don’t think this is - ? You cannot be serious. What is it between men, then - on an equivalency to hand-holding?”

“You’ll have to ask Theo about that one. I wouldn’t know; I was not in the habit of regular conversation with anyone with whom- well.”

“This was what I feared, when we were engaged,” Elizabeth finally blurted, after a long while of holding her tongue, even when she had been angrier. “That my instinct proved correct, and you were about as erotic as a dead fish.”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you’re lucky I had the sense to avoid getting you with child.”

“You don’t even want to let me take your cock into my mouth,” she argued.

He lifted his head in alarm at her language but chose not to comment on it.

“What am I supposed to do, rut you senseless like it’s two years ago in Tortuga all over again-“

“I just want you to be senseless every so often,” she said wistfully. “To be overwhelmed and to like it. I want to be - happy together.”

“I’m already happy,” he said, a little woundedly.

“I want you to be happy in our bed as well as out of it,” she retorted. “Not that I have ever seen you happy outside of this cabin-”

“I am happy in our bed-”

“You are tense and nervous and disgruntled in our bed.”

“Presently, I’m still at attention in our bed,” he said dryly.

“And the reason why you are still at attention instead of sated and lazy is because you feel no personal desire that you have not tried to stifle-”

“Believe me,” he said heavily, “my desire is feeling extremely unsatisfied at present.”

“Put your hand back in my hair.”

“Elizabeth?”

“You heard me.”

After a moment, though, she pressed a hand to his chest, urgently.

“I don’t mean it. I mean, I do mean it, but - there are no consequences if you don’t wish to do it-”

James grabbed her hair in his fist and yanked her downward.

Elizabeth gasped, but came to her senses almost immediately - enough to recall his comfort before seeing to her own, though she was reluctant to wait.

“May I, then-”

“I’m not asking you to talk-”

She needed little encouragement after that. She had wanted him greedily and unreasonably since they had been drunk the night before, and being given the opportunity, she did not plan to squander it- not that James gave her much room to do so. He held her body in place with one leg and her head between his hands, her hair still clenched in one of them, as he urged her along in silence punctuated by the rare gasp or word of approval.

If he supposed he could have no means of ascertaining her enjoyment, he did not count on how greatly she would enjoy it. Elizabeth clutched at his hips and his thighs enough to leave a few bruises, and she moaned her delight - not intentionally, but because she could not help herself. If this was what James called ‘using her’, he was permitted to do so as often as he liked.

James lifted his hand to pry hers away.

“I did not ask you for- nnn- that-”

It was difficult to get a grip on him that both of them were satisfied with, but the negotiation was worthwhile. When it was finished, James silently released her hair and let his hands fall to his sides.

Elizabeth was ungraciously wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist, but she looked starry-eyed when she gazed back up at him.

“Well?”

“Nn. Give me a moment, I'm rather spent.”

“I should know.”

“Were it not for the delay, I would drag you back down there this instant.”

Elizabeth flopped back against the pillow, looking up at him smugly.

“And did you feel so very helpless, Captain?”

“Not particularly,” he said, looking up toward the ceiling.

“Come down here and thank me,” Elizabeth purred.

“No- you're going to come up here,” he said firmly, with another tug for emphasis. She sat up, stretching her arms above her head. It was fairly clear that, amenable though she was, she was as easy to control now as the weather.

“Go on, then.”

James pulled her down and kissed her possessively, tightening his grip on her hair to push her mouth to his.

“Is this what you want?”

“Can’t say I mind-” she breathed.

“That will do.”

He turned her down into the cot beneath him.

“James,” she murmured into his mouth, though she took her sweet time in finishing her thought, “Kiss me on my neck again, please?”

He did not object to this- in fact, he set to his task with relish.

“Remove my shirt-” Elizabeth moaned, tilting her head back and lifting her arms to help him.

“I'm working on it-”

“Take your time,” she said idly. She shivered when the shirt came up over her head, though not from cold. She touched him on the chest a lingering moment, as though contemplating his body, and then sank silently into his arms, burying her face against him, just holding him close.

James dragged her up for another kiss. She returned it tenderly, sinking her fingers into his hair.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” she asked wonderingly, meeting his eyes. “Really mine.”

“...likewise,” he said softly, “yes?”

“Entirely, I think. I don’t understand it myself.”

“You've mentioned that,” he said, a little desperately.

“I want no man but you. I don’t even want a woman. If the thought appeals to me in the abstract, it is not really serious enough to detract from wanting you. And I barely feel guilt over it. Even when I think that I should, I can’t persuade myself to. I simply want you, over and over again. In bed and in battle and on a beach some day, when it is not raining. And I think something else, too.”

“What else do you think of?” James asked softly.

“I think we were always meant to be together,” she confessed.

“I don't- I'm not certain that's how it works,” said James. “I believe that in some way I was destined to love you, but I do not believe that you were always meant to return it.”

“I do. I was,” she insisted. “Everything that’s happened has thrown us together in the most unlikely way - as though fate were determined to have us together.”

James watched her for a moment, as though waiting for her to begin laughing

When she didn't, he kissed her again- joyfully this time, with a surprised cry of happiness. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him tightly, returning the kiss with near biting enthusiasm.

The topic was important to her - it was how she had always felt about Will, and perhaps the transfer of this belief from Will to James had assuaged much of her guilt about choosing the latter, as well as whatever twinges of the emotion she had when she thought of Jenny or Angelica a little too long. But, most of all, it was important to believe that James - and her father - had not been wrong to hope for this union, and had pursued it for nothing. She wanted to believe her father would be happy to see them together at last, and to bring order to a life which had been uprooted in every way - both his and her own.

But it did seem likely - the way they had fallen in love in Tortuga, the way she had come to save his life, as though directed by a higher power, was surely not usual. The fact that they had been engaged at a point where it might have been a disastrous ill match, but had been thrown together again at a point where they could meet as something closer to equals (and if not equals, when Elizabeth, not James, was the more powerful of the two) - these things could not be an accident. If she had married James then, not only would she have been unhappy, but she would have made him miserable - and Will would never have had a chance to be reunited with his father. No, everything had surely happened as it must - and now she was with the man she was meant to be with, her soul-mate, the man her dearly beloved father had chosen for her future happiness, because he had waited for her, and proven his love by waiting, as she had proven her worth by becoming a pirate lord in the meantime, and recognized his by choosing him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, clasping her hands in his. “Elizabeth…”

It wrenched her sharply out of her fantasy to see the naked joy on his face and feel guilt at it, even now.

“Yes, James?”

“It's nothing- please, just let me say it-”

“Say whatever you like,” she murmured.

“-just Elizabeth,” he said softly, before kissing her again.

Elizabeth toppled them both backwards, all the better to let him feel the weight of her and know she was his own. James groaned a little- his headache had not yet dissipated- but he began to laugh anyway.

“Careful-”

“I’m always careful,” she said, affronted.

James mmmmed loudly but let the matter rest. He pushed his hands back into her hair with a pensive smile. Elizabeth ended up rolling off him and pulling him to his side so that she could continue to kiss him more comfortably. She had no aim, no finish in mind; the matter was less obvious for her than it was for a man; she just wanted nothing more than to hold him very close and to kiss him as though she could drink him in, and wanted to be drunk.

“My apologies for the undoglike behavior,” he laughed against her lips. “Is this- would you like more of this?”

“More of your mouth, more of your kisses-? Of course-”

“More of my force-“

“More of your enthusiasm, to be certain. The forcefulness - well, it is a fun sort of game, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I am your Captain, am I not?”

“I certainly don’t expect you to carry on like this before the crew.”

“Mm, I like you to be a man with me, James, but not a master,” she said fondly, before gripping his hair tightly again. “I may not be a man, but I am your master. There should only be one of each, between the two of us, I think.”

“Ah- all right, noted-“

She took advantage of her grip on him by kissing his bared throat.

“You know,” James began, gazing up at the ceiling again, “on consideration I find myself less opposed to the idea of that swan tattoo-“

“Yeah? Where shall you get it? I have some ideas,” said Elizabeth - gliding her hand down his stomach teasingly.

“Elizabeth-“

“That would be so scandalous and none would ever see it but I-”

“How would they tell I’m yours, then, when we are apart-“

“Must we be apart? You’re giving up the Gloriana to be by my side and in my bed.”

“I’ll probably have to go out and do your bidding from time to time.”

“Oh, true enough. I don’t suppose you could tell them yourself?”

“I’m not exposing anyone but you to that much of myself, tattooed or not,” James retorted.

“That will have to satisfy me. And, I find it does, now that I think on it. I want you to belong to only me.”

He smiled tiredly. “I thought it might.”

“Then at least I know you are finally, finally convinced of the depth of my feelings for you.”

“You should know by now that I want nothing else as much as to be yours.”

Her fingers in his hair turned as coddling as they were possessive. She opened her mouth so as to speak, but nothing came to mind, and so, after a moment of this, she shut her mouth, and smiled and shook her head gently, as though conceding the speechlessness contentment and bliss had brought her to.

“And you can have your damned earring,” he added, before kissing her.

Elizabeth smiled so hard into this kiss that she had difficulty returning it. James noticed and rolled her on top of him with a warm, satisfied laugh.

“I want…”

“Yes, darling?”

“I want the world to see the way you have affected me,” he said softly.

“You mean you want to look dangerous,” she said, with a wicked showing of her teeth.

“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” James said, grinning back.

“My darling Captain.” She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed it. “I confess, I am impatient for it.”

“Not dangerous enough for your taste yet, I presume?”

“For the two of us to do something fun,” she clarified. “I miss raiding. I should like to do it with you sometime.”

“A suitable target, I hope,” James said, very seriously.

“Oh, darling, let’s get one of Beckett’s,” she said with bright, misty eyes.

“I will purloin you another crew.”

She kissed him as if he had told her he planned to pick her a bouquet of wildflowers. James meshed both hands into her hair and guided her along the way, but he was gentler this time- more lingering.

The kiss, which had begun almost affectedly chaste, deepened gradually with time.

James released her hair from one hand and let it glide down her back instead, until it found her backside. He gripped it- lightly, teasingly, but a grip all the same.

“When they write the ballads in years to come, they will recall that I turned pirate in your bed…”

Elizabeth laughed in response, low and sultry. She pulled back just enough to turn her eyes up to his, stealing a glance in secret, unabashed pleasure.

“Lord, our reputations are really sealed in stone, aren’t they?”

“I don’t expect to be anything but an addendum to your story.”

“You a degenerate. Me a whore.”

“You, an outlaw woman-king-”

“And a whore,” she said, her mood perhaps a little less pleased. “I know what people think like.”

“People think that of queens who began their lives as princesses as well,” James reminded her.

She thought of the English queen whose name she shared and tried to cheer herself up a bit. “Yeah, I suppose,” she said, a bit more brightly. His hand helped. “I don’t mind being your…. “ No good; even at her bawdiest she could not say that. “...I do not mind being yours.”

“You’re more of a bride regardless,” James said offhandedly. “You came to me good as one regardless-“

“I know,” she said, and briefly smiled, radiant as one. “But that’s not what the ballads will say.”

“Are you so certain?” he asked, as he began to bend his head toward her neck and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve demonstrated a rather imperious fidelity to your- mm, what did you suggest? Your werewolf lover-“

“I’ve been held captive by two pirate lords,” she said rather loudly. “Married once now. After being engaged to you first. Then there’s the curious ambiguity of my situation with Jack. I’m afraid I shall never convince anyone I was a maid before now.”

“They’re as likely to consider you soiled and vengeful about it as anything else.”

“I suppose it’s for the best. To be honest,” she said, and realizing this cheered and relieved her immensely, “I would rather that rumor than the truth be known. Elizabeth Swann a maid, even her husband having had no pleasure off her-”

“Give me another fifteen minutes and I shall make you less of one,” James cut in.

“Oh, sweet boy, there is yet one particular quality of maidenhood you cannot ease me out of,” she crooned, touching his cheek gently with one hand - and sliding the other down her own thighs.

“Lie back and we'll see about that…”

“I think you might see something. Sit up.”

“No interest in my going between your thighs, then?”

She pushed him backward daintily with one foot, which should capture his attention - and give him a fairly good vantage point when she began to glide her fingertips over herself and smirk at him.

“Elizabeth, what is-“

“Do you want to help me ease the trousers off? I cannot guarantee you shall be allowed anything but a view, but-”

“Elizabeth!”

“I don’t think you can convince me you wouldn’t enjoy it,” said Elizabeth, wriggling out of them.

“If it's all the same to you, I'd rather participate-”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, fast on her way to being quite naked; “would you?”

“It will certainly hold my attention better-”

“We’ll see.”

Elizabeth put her foot on his thigh, forbidding silently that he should move from where he sat, and met his eyes as she glided her hand over her pelvis. She touched her lips with her tongue, almost nervously, and then her mouth opened and she let out a small moan.

“Oh, my God-”

James had to look away.

“James! I command you to pay me - the attention and the respect I am owed, both as your captain and as your woman-”

“ELIZABETH.”

“Please, James,” she pleaded.

“I don't- I don't fully understand-”

He looked at her in apprehensive anguish.

“I just want - I want you to see-”

“I'm not sure I can- react appropriately-”

“All I want you to do is watch me - and perhaps- later -”

“Let me-”

“Perhaps later-” she said, out of breath - as much from shyness as anything else; she was hardly touching herself yet, not without reassurance that he wouldn’t look away - “you might - think on it-”

“I don’t want to think of it later,” he said, attempting to maneuver himself out from behind her leg so he could lay beside her, and finding it difficult. “I want to assist you- now-”

“I’m asking you to let me show you - perhaps you’ll - have some advice - and - if you would like to assist-”

Elizabeth swept her hair off her neck with her other hand and pushed her shoulders back, tilting her head and extending her neck. “- will you - will you put your hand here -”

“Yes-”

He clapped his hand, more roughly than intended, to the side of her throat, and then quickly relaxed it again to support the back of her neck.

“Will this help-”

“Will you touch me - just here, and…” She trailed her fingers down and over her breasts.

“May I kiss you?”

“I want you to watch me-”

“Are you certain?” He pressed his lips to her shoulder- a safe place, he assumed, to test the waters.

“Yes-” she moaned, but it was momentarily ambiguous as to whether or not this was an answer.

“Absolutely?” Her throat now.

“You may kiss me later,” she said, and now the moan in her voice was slightly petulant.

“If you insist. I was prepared to move downward, you know.”

“I do insist. You know that I do, why are you trying to weasel your way out of it-”

She had stopped what she was doing on account of the lull in his attention. He sapped all the fun out of it.

“I thought I might intensify things-”

“Wait,” she said, now more irritated than anything else. “Until you’re asked for.”

“Am I still permitted to touch you?”

“You are, but I may rescind that- if you keep misbehaving-”

“Misbehaving? Is that what you call it?” he asked, trailing one finger along the underside of her breast.

She made a soft, indecipherable noise.

“If you can’t be patient,” she amended, in a more tender tone of voice.

“Not an hour ago, you were furious with the thought that I did not want you,” James said, as he moved that finger along to the other breast.

“I never really doubted that you wanted me,” said Elizabeth now, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Just perhaps that you did not want me as I want you - there’s a difference. You are a little aloof, James.”

“Mmm. Well, you may remove that from your concerns, madam. You have my full-”

He curved his hand up and squeezed.

“-attention.”

“I had better,” she murmured, laying back down again almost sleepily. “You had better watch.”

“I don't know when I'll be ready,” he said, with a significant downward gesture.

“That doesn’t matter-”

“Fortunately for you, I haven't eyes for anything else,” James said, arranging himself to watch her.

The result of having to talk him into it was that Elizabeth was now a little shy about it.

“So why did you mind before-”

“I have to remind myself I'm not prying.”

Elizabeth lay back on the bed with a nervous hum. It made her feel slightly better to slide her foot back into his lap in the process of parting her legs again; at least she could distract herself teasing him. James watched and felt his confidence eroding more and more the wider her legs spread.

“Should I be… er- taking notes-”

“Shh. Let me look at you.”

“-yes, Elizabeth.” He swallowed, hard.

That made it easier - watching his throat jump like that - that made her want to do it.

“You- you have me at a tremendous loss-”

She shut her eyes for a moment, fancying she could hear his tremulous breathing. Most likely untrue, but it did help. “Oh, James-” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

“Elizabeth,” he said, so flustered his voice came close to cracking, “I could help if you liked-”

“You’re doing enough,” she sighed dismissively, leaning her head back. That was true; James in this state did more for her than all of the other stimulations in the world.

“This feels unforgivably decadent,” he said, eyes widening.

“No, then there’d - oh - there would be - you would peek at me through veils-”

Elizabeth was still quick with words, but it was taking more and more concentration to be so.

“As though you’re on display for my- er- benefit-”

“I am-”

“Oh, God- Elizabeth, I'm not ready- I actually feel quite pleased, thank you-”

Oh, he was flustered, all right- flustered enough that he began laughing at his own foolishness and covered his eyes in embarrassment.

“Mm,” she complained, opening her own eyes in time to see him bury his. “Do you want to assist me, James?” she asked breathily, turning her foot to dig her heel into his thigh, a nudge to get his attention.

“I certainly might be more effective that way,” he said, lowering his hand to look at her. “I fear we have some time before I’m of much use otherwise.”

“I can - nnh - delay my gratification-” she said, and the motion of her hand slowed. “I thought I told you to look-”

“I think,” James said gently, “it will have the effect you desire on me if we wait until then.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, a little sleepily, but game. “Come here and clean my hands.”

James slid up beside her and picked up his discarded shirt to wipe her off, punctuating the gesture with a little kiss to her forehead.

“Now help me dress…”

“Oh, are we finished? I do enjoy looking at you this way.”

She flushed and beamed at him, sitting up a little shakily - she was rather far along, with no closure in sight. “I feel exposed,” she said, without any self-recrimination or even any irony.

“Would you have me finish you?” he asked, putting his arm around her to support her.

“Not if there’s a chance that…”

“Hmm? Darling, you seem a little unsteady-”

“You made me an offer earlier,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders just to pull him close enough to lick his ear.

“I can do more than that,” he reminded her. “You're not as easily winded as I may be.”

“Perhaps I want to make you wait,” she teased him.

“I haven't much choice at the moment,” he said, giving her ear a little reciprocal nip.

“To please me-”

James kissed her forehead again.

“You're burning up, sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“Are you certain you want to wait?”

“I am certain that I want to drive you mad,” she said, kissing him slowly.

“Lisbet-”

He laughed against her lips. “Lisbet, it's not that, it's… it won't have the effect that you think. I can't- a man can't be driven mad for a certain period after his last exertion. It's not only a matter of whether or not he may stand at attention-”

“Then I’lll wait-”

“Very well. I only hate to see you suffer.”

“I don’t suffer,” she said, smirk widening. “You hate nothing. You enjoy pleasing me.”

“At present, I’m afraid I can't enjoy anything much more intensely than smiling and nodding.”

“Come here, then, and enjoy my smiles,” she said, reaching to stroke his hair again.

“Gladly,” he said. “You may have mine in return, but I doubt they are quite so dazzling.”

“Your doubt is misplaced,” she murmured.

He laughed again, leaning his forehead on hers. “Well, I suppose you were hardly more sober than I was.”

“I remember last night better,” she pointed out.

“That would certainly explain your looking better than I suppose I must.”

“You’re beautiful,” she argued, before thinking better of it.

James met her eye for a moment, grinning with flattered pleasure.

“I’m not making an argument for my own ruination,” he said, “only a lapse in judgement last night. I’ll accept the compliment.”

“You do nothing without my permission,” she said, extremely pleased, pulling his hand to her heartbeat. “The fault is mine, darling.”

“And what fault is that-”

“For letting you drink-”

“It would appear to have been a good time for all involved. I forgive you.”

“Mmm, show me.”

“How’s this-“

He kissed her, vehemently and open-mouthed. James was still some minutes away from being able to react as much as they would both like, but knowing that this would have an effect on her was its own satisfaction.

Elizabeth had not expected that - not when he was acting so spent. She arched upwards against him, gasping his name.

“Were it not for the risk, I would have you as soon as I am able-“

“Mm, what if -”

“Hm-”

“- I want you,” she said quickly, shyly. “We could risk it-”

“Even if I were to get you with child?” James asked, leaning in toward her again.

“We’ve -” She kissed him. “- discussed this-”

“Elizabeth, I…”

He hesitated, the same old litany of concerns playing on a loop in his mind.

“I- if you’re certain, Elizabeth, I don’t think anything could make me happier than to have a child with you-”

“Why is this always the first place your mind goes,” she complained.

“Because neither of us is diseased,” he said dryly, “so that’s out of our concern.”

“Yes, but-” She snorted in displeasure. It was not a fun distraction, thinking about raising a child, foggy and unfamiliar though the idea was. Thinking of carrying one was even worse.

“I suppose I could try to withdraw in time,” James murmured, “though- well.”

He gestured at himself.

“Do you prefer to wait for a quondam,” she asked gently, cupping his cheek.

“No-” he said, a little too quickly.

Then:

“...but speaking practically, yes.”

She smiled at him, perhaps a little disappointed, but overall visibly content.

“Then we shall.”

“More’s the pity,” said James, who was more than a little disappointed himself. “You're certain-”

“We’ve managed this long,” she said gamely, struggling to maintain the facade of a self-sacrificing good mood.

“I know,” he groaned. “Believe me, I have searched for a substitute-”

“I like the things we do,” she said with an affronted sniff.

“As do I. You know that.”

“Then why are you so dissatisfied?”

“Dissatisfied is the wrong word,” said James. “It is more of a longing.”

“There you go, being poetic again,” she said drily - before she could take it back. It was a defensive manoeuver, always responding with sarcasm when James had done some romantic thing she could not possibly reciprocate.

“It is what one might eventually have done with a wife, after all-”

“You did not think about this when you wanted me for your wife,” she reminded him with a wry smile.

“Through great effort alone,” said James. “And perhaps- well, one day. Presumably far in the future, we may still-”

Elizabeth sat up, blindly reaching around for her clothes.

“Hm?”

“-marry.”

“Very far, I would imagine,” she said musingly, but without a great deal of thought.

“Far enough to make dwelling on it foolish.”

Elizabeth pulled her shirt on lazily, one sleeve at a time, but could not bother to button it just yet. She fingercombed her hair over one shoulder, picking out the tangles left there from this most recent romp, reminiscing fondly on how they’d got there - both his strong, broad hands buried in her hair and urging her on while he arched underneath her - her name on his lips and his pleasure on hers.

It made her beam up at him a little slyly.

“You know,” she said, “I like it when you call me ‘Lisbet.’”

James grinned. “I shall make an effort to recall that.”

“I’ve never been Lisbet before,” she said wistfully. “It makes me feel… It reminds me that I am only yours.”

She was not certain she was anyone’s, but it would not be worthwhile to tell him so.

“Surely you're not dressing already,” he said as he sat up himself. He had been momentarily distracted in watching her.

“I feel naked,” she said bluntly.

“For what it's worth,” said James, “I like you naked.”

“I thought you liked me in trousers, dressed up like a sailor…”

“I enjoy both, but one is decidedly easier to have you in.”

“To have me, you mean,” said Elizabeth, tone light.

“I certainly won't object to trousers, if that's what you prefer.”

“Yeah, but kind of difficult to have me in trousers, hmm? Without making a mess.”

“Mm, yes, rather.”

She reached for them anyway.

“Must I do everything myself around here?” James grumbled, reaching toward his own crotch and gauging her reaction.

One of her lovely eyebrows lifted, and her smile grew perhaps a touch smug, but she did not comment. James was, of course, still not quite ready to begin with, and leaned back against the wall, still seated in bed.

“Well,” he said, “by all means, don't let me keep you.”

“Oh, no, now you’ve raised my interest-”

“It will have to wait all the same. Your trousers will not diminish my interest, believe me.”

“James,” she laughed.

“Yes, Lisbet?”

Her gaze grew tender. “James,” she repeated, leaning across the bed to kiss him.

“Mm- yes, darling?”

“Just let me say it,” she whispered to tease him, and kissed him again.

“Ah-”

He was still bleary-eyed, but positively beaming between kisses.

“Have at me, then, my stubborn little sailor…”

She whispered his name as she kissed him, guiding, first, his hand to her breast, and then sliding hers between his legs.

“Forgive me if I am slow to react…”

“Forgiven,” she said primly. “Thank you for permitting this…”

“The pleasure is mine-“

“Not that it is really yours to permit me,” she said, with a flash of hungry teeth. “You belong to me, body and soul-”

James laughed. “Oh, of course. It’s mutual, isn’t it?”

“Yes-” Elizabeth gasped. He might have been slow to react, but she wasn’t.

“Oh- mm. Good, then-“

She moved closer then, parting his legs and sitting between them, her free hand roaming along his bare torso idly while she kissed him. If his body was hers, she would act like it.

“You poor creature, you must still be on fire-“

“I am!” she laughed, or cried, against his mouth. “Good Christ-”

“I’ll have to finish you next-“

“You can go between my legs again - if you want,” she said, turning her eyes up to his quickly.

“Mm- that may take too much time. I would not see you forced to wait any longer-“

“I want to wait for you-” she insisted.

“I could try to manage it now if you would like-“

“Not yet,” said Elizabeth. “When you beg for it- then we can.”

“You had better make it slow, then-”

“Take as long as you like,” said Elizabeth, kissing him on the neck now. “I’ll be here.”

“And you're certain that will bring you off? I would hate to make you- nnn- wait again-”

“I think a breeze would finish me- If there’s so much as a draft in here, it’ll finish our fun prematurely-”

“Fortunately for you,” said James, as he semi-blindly groped forward to pull on her shirt, “you're easier to start up again than I-”

“Start up again? But I never stopped-”

“Were a breeze to finish you-”

His words cut off in a harsh, biting sound as he gasped and grit his teeth, eyes wide, though not precisely disturbed or displeased.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“Uh, here, you brilliant mastermind.”

“You're rather good at it.”

James was trying to be dry, but it was difficult under the circumstances. He pushed Elizabeth's shirt off of one of her shoulders.

“Take hold of my hair, will you? I’ve not grown it for you to ignore it at a crucial moment such as this-”

“Oh, darling,” said Elizabeth in a swoon, though her grip was firm and punishing and her smile was cruel and playful. “Forgive me my negligence. You know I am still unused to these matters. I get so distracted so easily.”

“You’re- ah- forgiven-”

“I can’t seem to help myself. You know how I love doting on your prick-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“- you could dissuade me, you know. Try being less provocative-”

“-oh, so I’m provoking you now-”

“Biggest tease on the ocean.”

“The better to render the family name good and blackened-”

“Biggest something else on the ocean too,” she murmured; “or perhaps that’s only the limits of my imagination-“

“That's- you've a bias,” James blurted, going red in the face.

“Just can’t imagine they get any bigger. Hard enough to get the whole thing in my-”

“Oh my God.”

“I’ll have to work on it.”

“It's- I've heard that attribute is of no real consequence,” James said awkwardly. “It's something men crudely brag of in taverns to win fights, and of no value beyond that-”

Elizabeth smirked at him, like a cat presented suddenly with a saucer of cream.

“Your modesty in this matter does much to assure me my assumption is correct. You would only inform me - with so much humility and shyness as this - of the irrelevance of that attribute if you knew you possessed it.”

“I don't want you to think it's beyond disappointment-”

“James,” she said, with great majesty composing her features into a more frank expression. “I hope you understand me. I know very well the disappointments you are capable of.”

“Not- gah!- all of them!”

“No? Surely I am. Your oppressive good manners, your projected blandness, your morbid detachment from carnal matters-”

“Must you call it morbid-”

“As one dead, Captain.”

“Does this feel dead to you!?”

Elizabeth could not hold back her smile forever, not when her teasing found so soft and easy a target.

“No,” she said softly, leaning in closer and rubbing him more slowly. “Not at all.”

“Christ,” he said, “I should hope not-”

She thought of her experience with dead men and brushed it off.

“Show me,” she murmured; “kiss me.”

“Don't let me go,” said James, and he did.

Oh, she loved him. Good Christ, how she loved him.

Elizabeth felt a stab of pleasure go through her like bright, sticky lightning and gasped against his lips.

“I think I'm sufficiently prepared,” James whispered into her open mouth. “Lie down, dearest-”

She didn’t need a second telling. She did not quite lie down, though, leaning up on her elbows because she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His hair hung in short, tousled waves around his face - eyes all the more interesting with his tan - and she couldn’t stop looking at that face she had known so well, and somehow only recently discovered was so handsome it made her heart beat faster to see him smiling, just for her. James began to maneuver himself into position and then stopped, though he rubbed the inside of her thigh to assure her that he was in no way reluctant.

“Darling?”

“Yes?” she asked, nearly panting, cupping his cheek so that she could keep taking in the sight of him.

“Do you want to be on top?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “If - if you think- if it’s safe-”

“It might be safer. Gravity and all that-”

Elizabeth was already pushing him down and straddling him, too enthusiastic to notice she’d been a bit rough.

“Careful-” James blurted, but he was too busy laughing to imbue it with much authority.

Elizabeth let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t tire of that-” she gasped, when she could manage words. “James, Christ-”

“What now-”

“What do you think-”

“I’m flummoxed.” It doubled as a convenient euphemism.

“James,” she said, exasperated - more than a little physically overwhelmed. She had been wanting a long time, and yet there seemed to be still more barriers to her personal satisfaction.

“I love you,” he said, reaching with one unsteady hand to brush a lock of her hair back.

That only increased her desire - it did not fulfill it. She shut her eyes, more aware once she had of the sound of her breathing, shaky and shallow.

“I love you-” she countered in nearly a whisper. “ - touch me, will you?”

His hands found her breasts. James lightly stroked one of her nipples with the pad of his thumb.

She let out a whimper and closed her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into the hollow of his throat. Elizabeth was not generally self-conscious enough to seek to muffle herself, but the only man alive whose disapproval and hurt mattered to her was on this ship - and besides that, she thought she might make a lot of noise.

“Would you prefer I- nn- muffled you myself?”

James was trying to sound teasing. It was about as hard as he was.

Elizabeth shut them both up for a good long while. James’s participation was necessarily somewhat limited, but he had to playfully pull himself away from her from time to time- make it a game- to extend his own longevity, and hopefully hers as well, while making it clear that he was not experiencing another attack of reluctance or misplaced conscience. He could only pray that his- hopefully- wolfish grin when he did, and his eager, exploratory hands gave the game away.

By the time they had both climaxed and fallen into one another's arms, James’s headache had mostly dissipated. Whether that was the Advil or two rounds of release, he couldn't say, but it was a blessed relief either way to bury his face against her neck, into the sea salt scent of her hair and no longer feel the burn behind his eyelids.

“Good Christ,” he murmured. “You're… mmph. You're very good at that.”

After such a long time of wanting it, to finally achieve this elation had exhausted her. Elizabeth was entirely spent and refused to do any more than the bare minimum of movement. Therefore the pressure of her fingers against the back of his neck, sunk into the base of his hair, was very light, and their motion was very slow. It did not quite qualify as a massage. A good wind would have been stronger.

“Elizabeth?”

He propped himself up on one elbow.

“James?”

“Ah, good. There you are. I thought you had exhausted yourself.”

“Myself? You exhausted me.”

“One does not wish to overestimate one’s contributions,” James said, affectedly stiff and more than a little self-mocking.

“You wore me out,” she complained, while smiling.

“I did notice a fair bit of recurrence.” This was a bit more smug. “I did not even realize this kind of success was possible with your particular anatomy-”

“I did not realize it was not with yours. You’ve been….. mm, instructive,” she said, biting her lip and smiling.

“Ah, good,” he said again, as he did not wish to say anything more vulgar. “Put your hand in my hair again, will you?”

She threaded her fingers through it, remarking again on its admirable curl and depth of color, and reminding him that she had still not grown used to seeing him without his formal wig, but liked him better every single day. In general she liked to look at him. He was beautiful, and realizing both that he was hers - and that she had almost lost him - made her more inclined to linger on the thought.

“Most of the curl will be weighted out by the time I am able to tie it.”

This came out in a startlingly rueful tone from the sheer force of fear of disappointing her. James immediately covered his eyes with his hand in mortification.

“Pardon me- I did not intend to sound so morbid where something so petty is concerned.”

She laughed at him. “James, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know it isn't- though in truth, living up to your expectations often feels like the most important demand in my life at present-”

“You have far exceeded my expectations. You know what I thought of you.”

“You have no trouble reminding me,” James said dryly. “I couldn't not know.”

“You meant my... present expectations?”

In truth, Elizabeth had none - she did not think of relationships in that transactional way he assumed - but she wanted to soften what she had just said.

“...yes?” said James, with an uneasy rising intonation.

“That you comfort me, and irritate me, and make up for it; that you be sarcastic and interesting, and sensitive, and in need of your own comfort and irritation; and that you make me regret the last few years sorely, but the last few months not at all, and make me impatient for the future? And that you be as good a second as any captain could imagine, and as good as a husband to boot, and that you be here, in this bed, when I climb into it in at night, even when our day has been awful, and I am stinking angry at you?”

She pinched his nose.

“You’re better than I expect, a great deal so. I never thought you would give over the Gloriana to be with me, and you’ve said you will. I still cannot believe you brought me the heart of Davy Jones, for that matter. And, darling James,” she laughed, pinching his chin instead. “You grew a beard for me.”

“It was the least I could do after you saved my life,” he said, faux-somberly. “Twice, to be fair.”

“I only saved your life the once. And you had saved mine already.”

“I seem to recall a rum bottle cracked over my head-”

“Ah, well. That wasn’t guaranteed in either direction,” she said, but she looked smug.

“I want to do right by you,” he said, with a softer, more sincere note creeping into his voice. “Everything else is secondary. I suppose I will sort out in time.”

“You do,” she said, fond with exasperation.

“It’s a matter of convincing myself, then,” said James. “Of- of allowing myself to believe that.”

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. She couldn’t think of what to say to convince him - or make him convince himself - and so she did not say anything. James closed his eyes and tilted his head into her caressing.

“If it is easier to consider it as such,” he sighed, “you may consider it more of a desire to honor your choice of myself even with your former husband back in the situation.”

A pause.

“That,” said James, “and- God help me-”

He inhaled sharply, going a little red with embarrassment. He was silent again for a moment.

“...I liked your doting on my prick, as you called it.”

Since she had made that brazen declaration in the first place, it was perhaps ironic for Elizabeth to respond to having it tossed back in her face by growing flushed and pressing her nose into her arm.

“- is that what I called it? Ah - well - I suppose - it’s apt, isn’t it?”

“It's what you called it,” he muttered, covering his face, “it will do-”

“Perhaps, seeing as - you liked it - you might -” She tucked her head onto his shoulder and nudged him, curling up beside him as she did. “ - permit it more frequently-”

“I- yes, I suppose. I… I could, couldn't I?”

James's voice was a little fragile with bafflement. For the first time since very early in their rekindled acquaintance, he felt as though he were looking at her curled up on someone else's shoulder.

She pressed coaxing kisses against his ear, his bearded cheek, and his fingers, which still lay over his face.

“I do dote on you,” she whispered, gently headbutting him and smiling to herself.

“I’m very aware-” James blurted. “I-”

“- like it?” she supplied, stroking his chin again.

“-yes, that too.”

“Oh, and what else, Captain Norrington?”

“I imagine I can permit it. More than that- request it-”

He lowered his hand- he had already been looking out from behind his spread fingers- to look at her properly.

“Oh?” she breathed, delighted.

“Subject to your consent, of course-”

“That’s all I want,” she said, leaning her cheek on him again ecstatically. “We’ll be - we’ll be just like outlaw lovers in a ballad, huh? Real lovers - not that we aren’t lovers. But you’re so - you’re so - you’re so reluctant-”

“Happier than a ballad, I hope-”

“You make me happier than anyone is in a song,” said Elizabeth, forgetting momentarily every eye-roll, every yawn and every bit tongue - she kissed his cheek, enthusiastic and sincere.

“How is that earring practice coming along?” he teased, pushing his hand up into her hair as she kissed him.

“Mmm, touch my hair, James-”

“You needn’t ask-”

She shut her eyes and let him, a smile stealing over her face. James obligingly began gently working out the lingering tangles in her hair with his curved fingers.

“Am I permitted to show you a greater amount of public affection after last night?” he asked.

“- not until Will’s left,” she said, with sudden, unexpected tension.

“Ah,” he said. “A pity, that. I had rather hoped, given your apparent enjoyment-”

“Not until Will’s left,” she repeated in a haze.

“All right,” he said, kissing her on the temple in reassurance.

“I couldn’t - couldn’t - make him watch that-” she said numbly.

“Then I suppose I shall have to detain you out of his sight more often,” James laughed.

“You - you may have to do that.”

She was stumbling over her words, the swiftness of the unhappy reminder - the heartache it gave her - rendering her briefly useless; she burrowed into his arms and stayed for a moment. Then she rolled over and flashed him a tired smile.

“It’s going to be difficult to stay off you, even in front of the crew,” she goaded him; “so I shall need more of you than ever when we are alone.”

“I intend to give it,” he said as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “As much of me as you will have-”

“I could eat you alive,” she said with a smirk.

“I can think of no happier demise,” said James, beaming.

He was so proud of that, she realized - he really had wanted this, and nothing more. Or nothing less, perhaps, was a better phrasing.

Elizabeth pulled his hand to her lips now in return. James's smile softened.

“I am not living for you alone,” he said, “but what joy it is to live for you at all.”

She rubbed his thumb with hers affectionately.

“...yeah, I don’t mind it either,” she managed, blushing again; not the most romantic of affirmations, but sincere.

“... perhaps we ought to maintain a no-poetry policy-”

“We’re pirates. You might be just out of the Navy, James, but for my own part, I don’t think i can hold to policy all that well.”

“You would be amazed to know how similar they feel after a few months at sea,” James conceded, “when we're all sick to distraction of uniforms and protocol.”

“Understood,” she laughed. “In any case, I cannot allow a no-poetry policy. I am sorry, James, but the king has said her final word on the matter.”

“Then I shall have to cope with that, it seems,” he said, with an affectionate squeeze of the hand. “My God, Elizabeth. From the way you carry on, I sometimes suspect that even had we married it would have taken mere months before I might as well have wed another sailor.”

“Another boy sailor?”

James blinked, a little taken aback, and collected himself.

“Well,” he said, “if it were still you-“

“I don’t think I would have been quite so much of this then,” she said, a little cautiously - if he liked the thought of it, she did not want to discourage his affection for her; but she could not bid herself lie, either.

“That’s true,” he admitted. “And thinking of the others, I might have so much as grown too accustomed to you-“

“Lord, James, there’s no pleasing you. You wouldn’t have been excited by my stockings or my corsets, but if I had taken to trousers you’d have bored of that too?”

“I never said a word about stockings-“ he interjected, too quickly.

“Oh,” she said, grinning.

“Elizabeth.”

“Well, indeed, I suppose you did not, though I assumed-”

“Stockings aren’t much for artifice-“

“I thought all of those little feminine trappings disagreed with you. All of that beribboned nonsense.”

“Not all of it, certainly-“

He pressed his lips together.

“There’s nothing to recommend against a chemise, either,” he said finally. “And I suppose panniers on their own have a degree of charm to balance out the stays-“

Elizabeth’s expression made the rounds between amusement, to incredulity, to exasperation with a startling quickness.

“James Norrington, you ass!” she shouted, hitting him in the shoulder.

“What have I done now?” he protested.

“Perjured yourself - though I should have expected no less from so foul and so black a brigand,” she said, thumping him again.

“You know what I prefer- for heaven’s sake, Lisbet, what do you suppose Lettie wore?”

“You said you didn’t like all of that! You told me so-”

“It’s certainly not my ideal-“

“You said you didn’t like it. You said it had no appeal.”

“Not under a dress, it doesn’t!”

“But we talked about it! We talked about - women, in a state of undress - and you said you didn’t care for those things!”

“I said I don’t care for stays, Elizabeth, I was quite specific-“

“I am certain I asked after everything else,” she grumbled. “I remember-”

“It’s of no consequence regardless,” he said heatedly. “I know how I prefer you.”

“Naked as the day I was born - that’s very glamorous-”

“In men’s clothing with scarcely anything left to be imagined,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“In men’s clothing- you have to imagine everything in order to even believe there is a woman under them in the first place,” she exclaimed, exasperated.

“Not her legs- and not her arse, either-“

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no sound came out this time. James shrugged uncomfortably.

She found herself blushing. And trying not to smile. And smiling.

“Really?” she asked, feeling the corner of her mouth tugging upward in spite of her best intentions.

“Yes,” he groaned.

“You like looking at - ?“

“Oh, my God- yes, all right? I know what I prefer-”

Elizabeth looked radiantly happy. She could barely hear him.

“That is so - that is too kind of you.”

“Did you really believe that was all a lie?” he asked, frowning in concern.

“I thought you felt very little and wanted me to stop accusing you of it,” she laughed.

“For heaven's sake- just because I found a little to delight in when Lettie wore all of that-”

“You still seem very….” She hesitated to repeat the word ‘cool’ to him. “...restrained about matters of preference,” she finished delicately.

“I don't wish to be churlish-”

“I think I’d like you to be a little bit of a brat to me sometimes,” said Elizabeth with a nudge. “Just to make up for the way you are most of the time.”

James laughed a little tiredly.

“Lettie hardly had your abundance of hair, either,” he said, “and yet you know how I feel about that.”

“Mm, yes. The one thing on which we are in absolute agreement,” she said, pulling it to the side and scrunching it absentmindedly. “I have very wonderful hair.”

James reached out and stroked it.

“Hers was a very pale blonde. She tinted it red and cut it around here-”

He touched about halfway down Elizabeth's neck.

“-filled it with switches lest anyone pulled on it, to spare her neck the strain. A rather grim occupational hazard, really. Don't tell her I told you that, if you ever meet her.”

Elizabeth pulled a face unintentionally. “Do you think she would like me?”

“I would hope so,” said James. “It’s not as though we parted on poor terms; I can’t imagine her bearing you any ill-will.”

He sat up a little, to gain better access to her hair, and began working on some of the more stubborn snarls.

“I hope that this does not lessen your opinion of me.”

“What now?”

“My selective honesty, compounded by the impropriety of that which I chose to omit.”

“...the fact that you are only sometimes honest? James, everyone is only sometimes honest. I think Captain Barbossa is only sometimes partially honest, and he does his best not to be.”

“In matters of the heart,” he said gently, “it seems a rather cold detail to leave out. I did not realize it upset you to think I cared so little for all of that.”

“I don’t imagine you would,” she said, reconciliatory with private alarm, realizing at once she had made him think she was much more hurt than she was. “I have never appeared to value my feminine attributes, such as I can be said to have them - why would you think I did?”

“You commented often enough on my alleged preference for a boy and my morbidity that I thought you must have thought I regretted your sex in the first place-”

“I think you regret that you want me - physically, anyway. I think you wish love were an entirely spiritual affair.”

“Not now I don't-”

“But you did. Even after we got together.”

“Is that so disappointing?”

“Of course it was.”

“You were coming off of the end of your marriage- because of myself, I might add. I did not dare to get ahead of myself.”

“You remember how I was in Tortuga,” said Elizabeth, looking towards him in exasperation. “How badly I wanted you.”

“I know that,” he said. “But I did not know you would choose me in the end.”

“Whose heart were you protecting?”

James swallowed. “Both, I thought.”

She brushed her finger over his heart with the ghost of a smile.

“I’ll protect it, always,” she said in a soft voice. “...your feelings, on the other hand, I cannot promise anything-”

“Don't worry about that,” he said. He released her hair to clasp her hand instead, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment, which James broke with a small cough.

“I know I ought to dress and go out,” he said, “but I find I lack the impulse. What does Her Majesty suggest?”

“Well, it must be growing close to evening by now,” she said dubiously. “We may as well. And perhaps we’ll linger when the sun goes down.”

“Mm.” He stretched his back with a grimace. “I can only hope I don't look too dissipated.”

“The more dissipated, the better,” she said, leaning on his chest to look down into his eyes. “You’re a pirate now.”

James scoffed. “Then perhaps we ought to change the standard.”

“No, I like the standard- it’s less work.”

“Suit yourself,” he laughed.

“I do,” she said loftily.

“Dissipation may be a bridge too far,” said James, settling in comfortably to hold her a moment longer. “We’ll have to find some adjacent adjective.”

He pushed his hair from his face, with the dim thought that he understood a little better now how much she could like how much he loved hers- even if she had specified their feelings were not quite matched in that regard. He wondered, vaguely, how long it could grow without the near-curl dropping out of it, and if he could get accustomed to not tying it back…

“What's the next nearest thing to dissipated? Tarnished?”

“That will do,” she said, muzzily. The bed seemed hot and somewhat sticky, but she didn’t want to get up and get dressed, didn’t want to be released.

“Tarnished, then. I can be content with tarnished.” He dipped his hand around to the inside of her thigh, as though to make a point.

“Mmmmm, content indeed.”

“More than content, really,” he said, after a short pause. “Elizabeth-”

“James?”

“I hope that with our misunderstandings cleared away, you might permit me to ask for your attentions… often.”

“Which attentions?” she asked, stirring her fingers in his hair in the echo of a question.

James met her eyes.

“All of them. And- mine in return.”

“You want to ask for your own affections?” pressed Elizabeth, clearly amused.

“To give them, at least-”

“I do like your attentions,” she said in a low, baiting voice.

“And to receive yours,” said James, very seriously.

“You might not realize what you are opening yourself up to,” she said, creeping closer to him.

“How would you have me prepare myself, then-”

“I wouldn’t,” she teased, and kissed him.

“Mmm. I shall remain alert, then,” he said, with the ghost of a laugh.

She explored his mouth with her tongue, pushing him back onto the bed and leaning over him. Her hair fell over him in a curtain of tangles. James looked up at her, guileless and joyful.

“What is it?”

“I love you, obviously,” she said, looking down into his eyes and snorting.

“Is that all?” James scoffed, too seriously to mean it.

“I love you and I don’t want to leave this bed,” she amended in apology.

“Oh, thank heaven. Neither do I.”

“Let’s forget today ever happened. Like we slept right through it and go on deck tomorrow bright and early and express shock that anyone would wonder how we missed a full day, since all we remember is All Hallow’s Eve, and drinking enough to be sick.”

“Clever,” he laughed. “Agreed, then, save the part about pretending none of this happened. I want to treasure today in my heart as the day on which I feel we came to a stronger understanding.”

“James,” she said flatly.

“What is it?”

“You sound like a 90-year-old barn owl.”

“I don't want to forget today,” he said, with a resigned sigh.

“A stronger understanding, really? Because I-”

“-I feel we’re on the same page, at last, as concerns car-”

Too formal, still. James caught himself and had to take a moment to flake the excess ornamentation away from his words, until his feelings beneath them were exposed.

“Where fucking is concerned,” he said, with an embarrassed precision. “You don't understand how often I think of it- dwell on it-”

Elizabeth’s exasperation softened to be reminded that James was, after all, only a man - and a man she had lain with many times over now, to great mutual satisfaction, to boot. It was pitifully easy to forget sometimes.

“You hide it rather better than most men do,” she said gently.

“Thank God for that,” he scoffed. “But I will… try… to hide it perhaps less-”

“Not in front of others,” said Elizabeth, a little mortified.

“Of course not! Let's not get ahead of ourselves-”

“But when we’re… alone together?” She bit her lip hopefully.

“Oh- yes, darling, yes-”

“Then - that will be - very much to my preference,” she said delicately. The irony of her speaking like an owl did not go unappreciated, and Elizabeth cracked a smile reflecting on it. “At the very least, I shall have no reason to think of you as morbid.”

James smiled a little tightly but had nothing else to add after that. He stretched, groaned, and fell back in place with a yawn.

“Is there enough water left in the basin to wash, do you suppose?”

“The important bits,” she said unruffledly.

“I see,” said James. “Do we plan on dirtying ourselves again?”

His hand in her hair tangled itself in firmly enough to give her a possessive little tug. “I could always wash you myself, but I fear that would end in defeating the purpose.”

“Mm-” she laughed. “What a tempting offer.”

“If you were to take it up-”

(He kissed her collarbone.)

“-might you reciprocate?”

“You sure you want that?” she asked lightly, with a knowing smirk.

“...I do,” he said softly, the smirk momentarily falling from his face to be replaced by a look of utter open vulnerability.

#potcsuggestions #pl: the black pearl #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #norribeth #long post

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

Text

The Black Pearl: James and Elizabeth

The rescue mission is finally underway, and in precious snatches of privacy James and Elizabeth are trying to figure out the dynamic of their love life.

CW: An attempt at mild bondage that is quickly abandoned. Eventually, at the end, there is relatively explicit sexual content. This post is extremely long.

Tia Dalma said the way to Jack Sparra was as hidden as the inner chambers of the heart, beneath wave and earth, beyond time and reason. A deep cavern, neither of land nor of the ocean - and when you came out of it, not even of this world anymore. Her jewelry rattled, her eye glimmered; every man or woman in the room had shivered.

And Will Turner had spoken up first. “So who’s for spelunking?”

And the Pirate King had looked away, eyes distant, maybe misty, jaw tight.

---

Teague and Barbossa handled being crammed onto the Pearl startling well. Teague was more elegant in his ways than his son was and not desperate to prove his dominion over the ship, and Barbossa, for his part, was as obsequious to the father as he’d been mutinous to the son; their shared humility led to an agreeable and easy co-Captainship. The Pirate King was superior to them both, but also the least qualified and the least knowledgeable; and so she marched around and looked important, got on gamely with everyone, asked Teague more about the Code, ribbed Barbossa about his monkey, and practiced her Cantonese; and all day long she barked frequently specific orders to her dog without partaking much of his company - nor that of her ex-husband, her civility to whom matched her treatment of the other captains, yet whose presence seemed to provoke zero consideration or emotion from her at all.

There were bets taken among the crew for which of her men she was on with. Some had it that her clipped cordiality with Turner meant she had chosen him, since she spoke not a word to Norrington that was not an instruction, and thus probably meant to give him a hard time; others had it that Turner was out and the attention to Norrington was a show that she liked him - the Pirate King bein’ a female, and that bein’ the ways of females an’ all.

In spite of all of those bets, however, not a man aboard noticed that one of them joined her in her cabin that night.

---

James had her in his arms the moment he shut the door.

“Elizabeth-”

Not content only to see her again, he picked her up and hefted her onto the crook of one arm, turning her across the floor like a newlywed and then kissing her deeply.

Elizabeth gasped and laughed and then shushed herself, smacking him on the shoulder scoldingly for making her make so much noise, and rendering this scolding toothless by kissing him back with equal ardor.

“Do you know the trouble it’s been, staying reserved and silent all day when all I wish is to adore you-”

“Oh, but you did so well-” she said, running her fingers through his hair while clutching his shoulders with the other hand. “You did everything so well…”

“One does one’s best,” he said, before kissing her again.

She let him, wrapping her arms further around him, pulling him close, pressing herself closer. James carried her to her little cot and gently lay her down against it, leaning over her and seemingly, for once, uncaring of his hair falling in his face. Elizabeth pulled him closer still, guiding him down between her thighs while kissing him with increasingly soft kisses, before holding his head against her throat, tilting her head back and groaning in sharp, sudden frustration.

“I was so angry at Tia Dalma I didn’t ask after a quondam-!”

James flinched. “Well, I suppose we’re even now-”

“I’m so sorry, James-”

“How long has it been-”

“I don’t know - I should be due soon-”

“Do you suppose it’s been three weeks?”

“Yes? Yes, it must have been - Elizabeth blinked, breaking the mood a little. “Lord - has it already been three weeks-”

James was visibly lost in thought.

“I- if it’s been three weeks the odds are low, very low-”

She started clutching at him a little too obviously. “Oh - really, James-?”

“I- I think,” he said warily. “I’m not positive-”

“Do you want- should we try?” she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“I-”

His hand warily settled on her belly, followed by his line of sight.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I would hate to do that to you before you desire that as a possible outcome.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders sank, but her legs stayed wrapped around his waist. She slept in a shirt most nights, but changed into a more flattering nightgown if James were invited to her cabin - tonight, particularly, she had donned it with enthusiasm. Currently it was bunched around her hips, too long to do anything else.

“But what are the odds of that, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not the kind of thing one can tell out of hand.”

“James,” she prompted. “We could die on this quest.”

“...that’s a fair point,” he said, though he had to look away from her as he did.

She rubbed the back of his hand.

“I have not yet shaved,” he said abruptly- and, following that, he immediately winced. That, if anything, only barred them from further alternatives to what they were both considering at the moment.

“I don’t mind,” she said - touching his beard affectionately.

“Elizabeth-”

He sat up beside her.

“If you were to fall pregnant- with my child, no less-”

She pulled a bit of a face, but endeavored to appear to be listening. “Not precisely unheard of to raise a child at sea,” she coaxed him.

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but with this whole… dog thing we’ve worked out-”

“I don’t care if anyone knows you’re the father. And you would be a good father-”

This clearly gave him pause- James had not expected to hear anything quite so sweet as that at a time like this, and he smiled almost reflexively.

“But would you wish to be a mother?” he asked, putting his hand flat on her belly again. “It’s asking a great deal more of you than myself.”

“I’d manage,” she said, after a short pause. She had not planned on anything that had happened to her in the past three years; this was, therefore, probably true. “I’m sure not all pirate children grow up to be depraved little monsters with tattoos everywhere.”

“Ha,” said James, giving her a very level look. “It’s not as though either of us would set that example to start with, unless you have plans.”

She smiled at him, perhaps a little mysteriously. “Not at present.”

“Mm. Well, I can’t say it would change my good opinion of you.”

“I was thinking about getting one,” she admitted hesitantly. “I’ll tell you about it… later, I think. When I’m not so embarrassed-”

“I don’t mean to pry,” he said, kissing her shoulder for good measure. “They’re quite common in the Navy, regardless.”

“Mmmm, this isn’t the Navy, James-” she sighed, shutting her eyes and tilting her head back.

“Of course not,” he said, kissing under her jaw. “If it were, I would not be doing this-”

He leaned back and added, with a stern point of the finger, “I know the sort of joke you’re thinking of, and I’m telling you now that it is not as clever or original as you may believe.”

“I can honestly tell you I have no idea what you mean,” said Elizabeth, pulling that hand to her breast. “I only have one thing on my mind, I’m afraid…”

“What’s that?” James said dryly. “Motherhood?”

“Fatherhood,” she rejoined, and started to laugh.

“If you’re certain-”

He kissed her again.

“-you and the child will want for nothing-”

Elizabeth rubbed his chest as she kissed him back. “You know,” she murmured. “Captain Barbossa’s not half bad with children himself…. Perhaps sailors are just very well-suited to child-rearing.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “though I suppose you would be breaking new ground as far as carrying one goes.”

“That’s not so,” she countered. “I don’t know too much about Jack’s mother, but I gather he was born at sea himself.”

“And Grania O’Malley had a sword in her hand two hours after delivering,” James added, “though she was, I believe, around thirty at the time. What do you think as regards naming it, hm? I suppose Weatherby is the obvious choice for a boy-”

“James,” she said faintly.

“You already said Eliza for a girl- I suppose they won’t all turn out to be little Sparrows, would they?”

“I don’t know. Teague’s a good enough sort, I guess, but rather eccentric; you would probably be a sterner father - and a more affectionate one, I think. Little Lizzy the Second would be much better off for that, I’m sure-”

“Wait- what does Teague have to do with it-”

“What does-? James, you can’t be serious.”

James had gone a little frantic around the eyes, in that subdued, tamped-down way of his.

“I know you like to believe he was more a father to me than the admiral, but I never knew the man-”

Elizabeth was so incredulous that she started laughing - and she had never been good at reading the subtle details of emotion. “Oh, come on - you’re having a go at me.”

“It’s a- well, I assumed it was a cultural sort of thing,” James began lamely, looking away from her with wide, staring eyes. “I didn’t think-”

“But they look exactly alike,” she said helplessly, still laughing. “Anyway - why did you think Teague came on this rescue mission, he doesn’t involve himself in much else- has to be impartial to enforce the rules, I suppose - well, it explains a lot, doesn’t it? Jack’s always been a better sort of pirate than most of them. Cares a lot about what’s fair, in an each man to his own sort of way-”

James stood abruptly and paced across the floor. There wasn’t a lot of room to do that, and he ended up turning back to her almost immediately.

“Oh, my God.”

Elizabeth had not noticed the early stages of his panic, but when he broke from her, she knew it at once, if not the reason for it. He found her sitting up uneasily, looking concerned.

“James?”

“Teague’s son?” he blurted. “That man- Jack bloody Sparrow-”

“Yes,” she said, hesitant to confirm it. “Are you - come sit down-”

James groaned and sat down on the edge of the cot, pushing his hair out of his face in irritation.

“You mean to tell me,” he said, “that I threw over four hundred men into a watery grave chasing down the son of the man who saved my life-”

Elizabeth went abashedly silent, unsure of how to proceed from here. The guilt he felt, the reality of it were so enormous she couldn’t hope to fix them.

“James, I didn’t- I didn’t think, I’m sorry-”

Touching him gingerly on the shoulder was a poor excuse for comfort, but she thought to pull closer to him would only be smothering and counterproductive.

“I always exempted Teague,” he said faintly. “Did you never realize that? When Beckett began the purges- I fed him as much misdirection from the start as I could to keep him away from you, from Turner- and from Teague.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And any family I knew him to have, which was none. My God- if I’d known, I never would have sailed into that fucking hurricane-”

Elizabeth tried to rest her unhappy head on his shoulder and impede him as little as possible.

She had no idea what else to do.

“At least-”

He sighed. “It ended all right for me, I suppose. I can’t say as much for the others.”

“It was the law that was wrong - not you,” she said quickly, though her voice was a little flat - she felt numb. “How could you make a choice? You had none.”

“The law didn’t tell me to pick up a bottle,” he countered, with a sad smile. “That’s the kind of thing that damns a man, wouldn’t you say?”

“Be damned with me,” Elizabeth whispered, turning her face to meet his gaze. “I- I can’t say I’m not sorry for how we got here, but -”

She bit her tongue for a moment. It was not fair to compare Will to four hundred men and boys rotting underwater, broken heart or no.

“- I’m glad we’re here all the same. I don’t care if it’s selfish. You belong with me.”

James touched her cheek.

“I know.” He took a slow, shuddering breath, and added, with a similarly sad, drained laugh, “I haven’t indulged since- Good God, July?”

He paused.

“My God- Elizabeth, is it October already?”

“You know what this means,” said Elizabeth, focusing on something distantly, with a forlorn expression on her face.

“I know something,” he said, “but nothing important right now-”

“We are really bad friends to Jack Sparrow.”

“Jack Sparrow is not my friend,” James retorted, “and it took his father just as long.”

“He’s my friend,” said Elizabeth fiercely. Then she deflated. “Well, he was until I murdered him in cold blood and all of that,” she added miserably, and buried her face against his arm and groaned.

“Perhaps I can bargain with the witch to bring back the Dauntless,” James said mirthlessly, “or at least the men aboard.”

“That would be a little difficult,” Elizabeth said, muffled against his arm. “If not for her, then for them to go home to families that have spent two years mourning them.”

“I know,” James said fully. “But even so-”

“You would only be condemning them to lives as outcasts,” she warned. “Three years is a long time to be dead. And then all of them just come back? A miracle; or summoned from hell? And what will they go back to - wives remarried, children adopted, houses and belongings all sold - James. There’s nothing you can do for them.”

“And yet Hector Barbossa is stomping about overhead, playing at schoolmaster,” James said, with a bitter laugh, “and Jack bloody Sparrow’s died three times now and we all have to undo that, of course.”

“One of those times was my fault,” she reminded him quietly.

“I nearly hanged him,” he said, rubbing her between the shoulders. “And came rather close to shooting him-”

“Both of those things were different. It’s - oh, nevermind. You weren’t there.”

James smiled, but it turned into more of a grimace. “I was probably in Beckett’s office about then.”

“It’s one thing to kill a man in self-defence,” said Elizabeth, after a long moment; the silence of the cabin was terrible. “But to preventatively kill him, to save yourself? To kill a friend?”

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her up a little higher, to lean on his shoulder.

“What happened back there-”

“Davy Jones sent the Kraken after him,” said Elizabeth with a pleading insistence. “We tried to battle it, but nothing worked. Jack wanted all the survivors to pile into the longboat and make for shore while it took down the Pearl-- but it didn’t want the Pearl. Just Jack. So I -” Elizabeth blinked quickly. “ - please don’t make me finish this.”

“-so you considered the greater need of your party,” James said gently.

“- I kissed him, and chained him to the mast while he was distracted,” Elizabeth said bluntly. “Will saw the kiss and looked away after, I presume. He spent the next year thinking I was-”

She had to stop again, now feeling the tears stinging her eyes. “This isn’t like you, terrified out of your wits and picking up a bottle in a storm. There were more righteous ways I could have thrown Jack to the creature - could have put the matter to a vote, or told the crew what I did, or whatever. I deceived him and then I lied about it, James. Don’t try to protect me from this.”

“Elizabeth,” said James, though there was a note of discomfort he couldn’t quite conceal. “That’s- well, you were proactive, I suppose.”

“That’s why he hates me so much. That’s also why I have to come rescue him.”

“Then we are alike in obligation,” he said grimly.

She kissed him on the cheek. He smiled a little at that and pressed his hand to her own cheek, as though to hold her there a little longer. She responded by bringing her kisses down his jawline, not minding the beard one bit.

“Changed your mind?” he teased, slipping his fingers into her hair.

“You know I like it,” she said, a little miffed, as she moved her lips to his throat. “I just also know that you don’t. And you can grow it out again if you change your mind…”

“More like if you change yours-”

“Well, I wanted to give you the illusion of control over your own life,” she said with a low laugh. “James, get on the bed.”

“Do you mean to say you would prefer me on my back?” he asked. “I’m afraid I’m already on the bed.”

“Yeah. I mean get on your back, on the bed,” said Elizabeth, already sliding onto the mattress.

James obligingly lay back and swung his legs up onto the mattress, with a little palm-up gesture, as though to say that there she had him. She had him indeed; she was on top of him in a moment, hands in his hair and kissing him.

“Does this please you-”

“Touch me,” she commanded, instead of answering him.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want most-”

He began with her hair; that would be the easiest way to keep himself from getting carried away, and it was so close already to the neck he moved on to kissing almost immediately after. Elizabeth shut her eyes and arched into it, her own hands creeping down to his chest to remove his shirt.

“I love you,” he breathed. “It still- I am still dazzled, to be so wanted by you after all-”

This didn’t propel her to greater heights of desire; it made her feel uncomfortably guilty. As much as she had tried to anchor her feelings in their past, she could not fully deceive herself that wanting James had not been new.

“ - I love you too,” she finally responded, passing it off as having been distracted by his touching her, and turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand, a gesture he reciprocated.

“I did not think you would choose me over him,” he said, reverently, against her palm. “I hardly dared to dream of it.”

“You - never?” She hadn’t wanted to follow him down this line of thought, but her discomfort pulled her there anyway. “Not after everything?”

He lifted her hand from his mouth to look up at her with sad, knowing eyes.

“I didn’t know. It was difficult to think that things might have mended again between you.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze for long.

“I’m sorry I didn’t… I didn’t do enough to assure you.” Even with her eyes cast down, she smiled. “That you were mine. That I intended to keep you.”

“Why, Elizabeth,” he said, reaching up to touch her face, and then pull her downward to kiss her, “that's very nearly a threat.”

“Captain Swann to you,” she whispered against his lips, smirking. Her tone was as sultry as it was dangerous.

“Your Majesty,” he said, in a low voice.

“One day,” the Pirate King continued conversationally, gliding the backs of her knuckles over his temple, “I will have you so thoroughly that you’ll be saying that as you climax.”

“Would you like me to work on that?”

“I suppose I’ll have to train you.”

“With what instruction?” he asked, lifting one leg and firmly bending it over hers.

Elizabeth reached up and behind him, sliding her hand beneath the pillow for something she’d had prepared.

The notorious silk curtain tie.

“Touch me a little while longer, my love,” she said with a look of profound satisfaction on her face. “Because in a moment I will ask you to give me your hands, and I will expect you to comply.”

He grinned. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He kissed her again and pulled her down as much as he felt his station allowed.

It was, by and large, Elizabeth who took advantage of the minutes in which she allowed him to caress her - guiding his hands to pull down the bodice of her gown, nuzzling the palm of his hand, taking his fingertip into her mouth. She saw no need to disguise that this was more for her benefit than for his. It was an open secret, really.

“Does this please you?” he asked, pushing his fingers back through her hair.

She had been straddling him for the better part of it, all the greater pity they could not do as planned.

“Why don’t you check and see?”

“There are many kinds of pleasure, sweetheart.”

“Indeed, but I seek one at the moment.”

“Am I to look for a change in climate, then?” he asked lightly, gliding his free hand downward.

She was forced momentarily out of character by an eruption of laughter. “Climate, James?”

“If I may be so cautious-”

“I don’t enjoy your caution in this context.”

“I thought you might prefer to see your time extended.”

“Oh, it shall be, darling. I just want you to feel how I feel before I lash you to this bed,” she said with a gentle kiss.

“What- are you hiding more ropes in there-”

He patted down the length of her body, somewhat facetiously, while raising an eyebrow at her.

Elizabeth laughed again, pulling both of his hands back to her bared breasts. “Just your hands tonight, darling. One cannot learn too much in a single evening. Instructing you will take some time.”

Her smile was merciless and clearly baiting him.

“Would you have me blinded again, Your Majesty?” he asked, with an almost distressing degree of sincerity.

“Not tonight. One peculiarity at a time, I would think, is sufficient.”

“Ah,” he said. “Er, Elizabeth-”

“Poor thing,” Elizabeth laughed, stroking his jaw affectionately. “Would you have liked that?”

“Elizabeth,” he said, and he tried to soften it with a rather embarrassed-looking smile. “I- I don’t think I particularly desire to be tied up.”

“ -oh,” said Elizabeth in surprise, the little rope still in her hands. When she lowered them, without thinking, the rope sagged as though it had overheard, and had its hopes dashed. “What do you particularly desire?”

“I’m still sorting that out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s- Elizabeth, you know I love you very much, don’t you?”

She laughed again, once and loudly. “A bit of insurance before you tell your mistress you’d rather not be tied on a leash?”

“Well, in a sense-”

Elizabeth chewed on the inside of her cheek and then proffered the ties again. “Do you wanna do it on me?”

“What, tie you up?” he blurted, looking startled by the very idea.

Elizabeth smirked at him. “Could make it a game, hm? Pirate hunter and captured Pirate King?” She was tickling him under the chin with one of the tassels. He laughed, and gently pushed it away, but let his hand linger on hers before lifting it to his lips.

“I want to stay here with you,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it neatly across the palm, “and talk, and enjoy your company, and take a little time to appreciate that you’re mine…”

“There’s not a lot in there about, ah, rutting each other senseless, is there-”

“We’ll see if we can work up to that,” James teased.

Elizabeth looked at him stubbornly.

“Do you not know where I am sitting? I think you’re worked up to it.”

“I haven’t,” he pointed out, “and I’m in no hurry to do so. May I kiss you again?”

“Hmph,” she said, with a demure nod of resignation.

He did, lips parted, and clasped her hands in his.

“I don’t want to simply rush into having a go at you,” he said, leaning his forehead to hers. “I know you don’t mind it, but- putting you to it first thing when I have been away from you for so long- as though I’m using you and worrying about the formalities later-”

“But I love doing it,” said Elizabeth, somewhere between petulance and remembered ecstasy. “How can it be using me?”

“I hope this doesn’t constitute too much of a problem,” said James.

Elizabeth slid gingerly off his lap. “I think you underestimate how much I want you.”

“I’m not going to challenge you to prove it,” James said lightly. “I suppose- well. I always had a very specific idea of what our marriage would entail, and the physical aspect was- never mind. I did not like to dwell on it.”

“The physical aspect was what,” she asked suspiciously.

“Rather low in my consideration,” said James. “As I said, I did not wish to dwell on it. It seemed improper.”

“What was your ‘very specific idea?’” she asked in growing, flattered curiosity. “I- we- might implement it, if you like, if I care for it. I think what we have now is very like what we might have had,” she said, and mortified herself by being shy.

James’s eyes widened as he looked at her, then looked away and down.

“I- I mean to say that I had thought- expected- more companionship than… physical acts,” he said, looking sidelong now to the cabin wall. “That was the very specific idea. I could not bear to think of much more save that I wanted to know you might enjoy said physical act-”

“Now I do - really, really do - and you avoid it,” she pointed out, with a small, pleased smile.

“I’ve a rather complicated history there, darling,” he said, looking back at her again to assure her he was not offended.

“Mm, yes. And you’ve a rather complicated history with me,” she agreed, rubbing his chest so as to assure him that she was not either. “I wish I could ease your conscience some. You have no idea how much I long for you - all day I do - and then being here with you, finally… I suppose you are less afraid of using me and a little more concerned that I am using you.”

“Lettie was not my first woman,” he said carefully.

“I had not thought she was. Men have more reign in these matters than women do, and you are a sailor.”

He smiled unhappily at this. “That’s hardly an excuse.”

“Nor indeed do you need an excuse,” she said, rubbing her thumb fondly back and forth over his chin.

“A woman would be expected to supply one,” James retorted.

“You know I think that is a wagon of horseshit, too -”

“Does it not seem rather unfair to you that a man is not, then?” he asked.

“Of course it does - but not in that direction,” she said incredulously. She leaned up a bit on her elbow and stretched her legs out. “I believe,” Elizabeth mused out loud, “everyone should do whatever they please, whenever they want to, and be obligated to no person - so long as they do no person any harm. Of course… If the East India Trading Company were to take a loss… or justice were dispensed towards those who do harm on a regular basis….” Elizabeth started to laugh, the kind of low but uninhibited laughter that often accompanies drowsiness.

“Those are rather unconnected phenomena, darling, that’s nothing to do with carnal matters-”

“Well, I am not merely speaking of carnal matters,” said Elizabeth peevishly. “You know people are limited in more ways than that.”

“If your father had seen the… disgraceful way I was carrying myself as recently as the week I brought the pair of you to Port Royal,” James protested, “he might never have given me his confidence around you- especially not after your incident in the library. It’s only through the grace of God I’m not poxed-”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m only a bit jealous. I too would like to have a string of conquests behind me - Sao Feng left me his ship, but the rest of what he gave me wasn’t very nice, and I wasn’t with Jenny for long enough -”

“Oh, God,” James groaned. “They weren’t conquests-”

“Indeed, you were the conquest in every encounter, I am sure -” Elizabeth smiled at him teasingly. “At least you are with me, whether I may tie you down or not-”

“They were encounters, at best,” James said. “And frequently paid. And God, that’s not accounting for-”

He grit his teeth and took a breath.

“-fumbling with boys in the dark. That was hardly conquest either. We avoided looking at one another’s faces. We knew each other too well for that. Some of the others were busy with conquest, but one learned to look the other way and try to avoid the sound of it. There was a sort of stratification- some of us simply had to get it out somewhere, and another’s hand was as good as anywhere, and others- well, God forgive me, but they were practically sweethearts. It seemed unreasonably cruel to suggest it.”

“Cruel to suggest what?”

“Parting them-”

“I don’t know why you think it is my place to offer commentary on this,” said Elizabeth, after a pause. “I wouldn’t have done any differently.”

“Squandered yourself on people for whom you felt nothing but lust, and sometimes not even that?” James asked skeptically.

“What!” she exclaimed, in some surprise; this was so little like her own way of thinking. “Gained a bit of experience and made the passage of time considerably less dull - lord, James. It’s not as though I haven’t done a few things.”

“Less dull- well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I could probably have made captain another two years earlier had I not been frittering my life away on drink and loose behavior-“

“And what would that have gotten you?” she challenged.

“I don’t know- something to keep me too busy to chase Sparrow halfway across the damned planet and in position enough to curb Beckett on my own,” he said bitterly.

“Something that took you away from me?” she asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice, and surprised that she felt it. It was selfishness, pure and simple - she could not pretend James was possibly happier with her now than he would have been in such a universe as he described now - but then too, Elizabeth was selfish. “Well, one of us would have been better off, but I’d much sooner have you for my dog than somebody else’s Rear Admiral.”

“Even if you had known of the drinking and wenching?” he asked dryly.

“I would have wished I could have signed up,” she said, grinning.

“Elizabeth!” he said, with a sudden, very visible flinch.

Concern flashed over her features; she touched his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Thought of you in the uniform.”

Her hand slid off. “What,” she said flatly.

“The breeches and all that-“

“Oh, James, God!” she exclaimed in exasperation, and she shoved him backwards.

“I told you, it’s difficult to not think of such things-“

“I don’t mind,” she insisted.

“I mind!” he said, staring up at the ceiling rather than her from where she had shoved him.

“Why?” she demanded to know. “You’ve seen my legs. Kissed them. Kissed very much between them, too-”

“I know- and I enjoyed it, thank you-”

“Then what’s so awful about picturing me in a pair of trousers?”

“It’s rather forward- and Elizabeth, I’m meant to be the one pleasing you-“

“It pleases me to be thought of. It pleases me to know you blush when you think of me. It pleases me to be wanted-”

“I do not blush-“

“More’s the pity-” she slung back heatedly.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “I’m beginning to fear I cannot keep up with you-“

That stung a little. That stung a lot, actually; and Elizabeth was ready to retort something else at him when she found she had not the words. She stared at him with her mouth barely open, and then, blinking angrily, she asked, “What do you think you mean by that?”

He couldn’t see her from this vantage point, did not recognize the pain in her voice, and continued, with an embarrassed and apologetic half-laugh, “I must be a dreadful disappointment to you.”

“You’re not-”

Suddenly she was leaning over him, cupping his face with her hand, tender and adamant; and just as suddenly she was kissing him. James gasped and started sitting up again in surprise.

“Elizabeth Swann,” he said fondly, “I will never deserve you.”

She growled a little and pushed him back down to the bed, absolutely devouring him.

“Elizabeth!”

It wasn’t much of a protest this time; he pulled her to him with a laugh of relief.

“I’m sorry about the ropes-“

“Forget about the ropes-” she said breathlessly.

“Ah,” he said. “Good, very good- I think I’d rather keep the dog bit out of the bedroom, if it’s all right with you-“

“My offer still stands,” she said with a lopsided smile.

“What! Oh, no, no-“

“No?” She looked mildly put out.

“Elizabeth,” he said, a little breathlessly, “I don’t think that’s at all to my preference-“

“No? Not even to do what I planned to do to you? I think you would like that.”

“I would rather be able to touch you,” he said, trailing a finger along her lower spine through her nightgown to illustrate this point.

“I just want to control you,” she said with relish. “But never mind it - I shall do so when the sun is up.”

“And I suppose, if you may accept this as an offer of trust,” he said, “you are welcome to pull my hair and grope at me as you will.”

“What?” asked Elizabeth, stupefied. “Really? I know that your reputation is largely set in stone and that you’ll be my kept boy in all the annals of history, but do you really want that on the record?”

“If it is set in stone, it scarcely matters,” James retorted. “And I'd rather that than the ropes.”

“Look, I….” She had to sit up and give this the thoughtfulness it deserved. “I am not unopposed, but - not in front of Will, if that’s all right with you. To be perfectly honest, I would rather we not do it in front of Barbossa, either, but that’s another story - he’s just too smart to fall for it. He knows I’m a little off my head about you, and he won’t stop letting me know how much it annoys him.”

James laughed at this, and kissed her hand.

“I'm quite amenable, I assure you.”

“Well,” said Elizabeth, her eyes still wide. “I suppose that gives us something else to live for.”

“I rather assumed you enjoyed it,” said James. “God knows that without your attentions I might well have given up on my hair by now. It's damned annoying when it can't be secured.”

“It’ll grow out and then you can secure it,” she said, sliding her fingers through it now.

“I know. I know, that's how I continue to commit myself to it.” He closed his eyes and relaxed under her touch. “Though it helps to be in a situation where one can have a bit of one’s vanity back.”

She watched him a while longer with a satisfied smile. Seeing his face still stirred more than a decade of memories, all of them more valuable now than they had ever been. After a moment of recollection, Elizabeth leaned over to kiss him on the cheek - repeatedly, and whispered: “Dog’s head buckles…” before giggling and pressing her face into the pillow, leaning on him for support. James put his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair and kissing her temple.

“Yes, of course. Those are an absolute, are they not?”

“Mmmm,” Elizabeth agreed, leaning into it and rolling over. “James, would you like me to indulge your vanity a bit more?”

“Mmm. Yes, I suppose,” he said, closing his eyes as he tightened his grip, a little possessively. He had earned the right to be possessive, he thought. She was his. She had said as much.

Elizabeth shut her eyes and melted further into the embrace.

“Well, looking at you….” she said, and slid her own arm around his waist, tightly. “You look like a proper pirate.”

“Good heavens,” he laughed. “Is that a compliment, now?”

“From me? You have to ask?”

“I know, I know,” he teased. “It’s more simply a wonder that I have ended here-”

“I wonder at that, too - every time I look at you and recall the last decade of our acquaintance,” she said affectionately. She ran the flat and then the back of her hand over his chest.

“Mm,” said James. “I’m glad to know you approve.”

“More than approve,” she said softly.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “it is as much pleasing you, and knowing that I am doing so, as it is simple vanity.”

“Let me tell you again how much it pleases me…” she murmured.

“Oh, do,” James said, in a voice reduced to a low, pleased rumble. “I shall work to keep that in mind.”

“Better yet, I could show you…”

“Or both,” he said, unable to prevent another chuckle from entering his voice. “You know how much I seek to live up to any admiration I receive-”

“My dear Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth, lips on his throat, “is that what the French call a double entendre?”

“A what?”

He opened his eyes and lifted his head at this.

“Living up to my admiration, darling?” she asked, with a strategic caress.

“Elizabeth, good lord-”

“I assume that was a no,” she said, struggling to control her laughter. It was easy enough, though, to bury her face against his throat and resume her attentions there. James lay back down, still a little startled, and laced his fingers through her hair.

“I meant only that I want to deserve that kind of indulgence,” he clarified, with an awkward clearing of the throat.

“The indulgence is mine. You’re mine.”

“Ah, yes. I’d forgotten my place.”

“To be fair, until the acquisition of certain objects, you cannot properly inhabit it.”

“Elizabeth-” James blurted. “My God-”

“Do you object to that?” she asked, a touch exasperated.

“I’m still accustoming myself to your frankness-”

She snorted.

“There is a difference between the degree of opinion which I have always known, and been delighted to know you possess,” James said carefully, “and this… freedom of expression.”

Elizabeth lifted her head, unable to fully conceal either her embarrassment or her sincere pleasure in his admission.

“Really?” She cleared her own throat. “Delighted, I mean?”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “I was not thinking of you in trousers yet when I granted that you might borrow them from the Marines.”

“Delighted does not mean resigned.”

“I was delighted, I assure you. I distinctly recall laughing.”

“Oh,” she said, doubtfully. “I suppose I remember that.” She lay there a moment longer with his heart beating against her arm where it rested on his chest, her fingers combing through his hair. “Can it really be so,” she wondered out loud, when she could control herself no longer, “that I’ve fallen in love with you - an older brother at most, later an unwanted suitor, uptight, honorbound, and extremely uninteresting? Pinch me; I think I dreamt it.”

James, with no change in expression, gave her a sound pinch on the rear.

She burst into laughter.

“Not so unwanted now, it would seem,” he said dryly.

“Not a suitor either. You only call them suitors when they are still trying to win you,” she said, cupping his cheek. “Oh, how though?”

“Something to do with the promise of dog’s head buckles, it would seem,” he said, closing his eyes and just barely allowing himself a smug smile.

“It began well before that -”

“Well, for whatever reason, I’m yours now,” James countered.

“Yes, but you were mine already,” she said - gently this time. “I just didn’t claim you.”

This time, he burst into laughter in return.

“Fair enough-”

“Now I do with pride.”

“And I gladly accept such an arrangement,” he said, leaning to kiss her on the top of the head. Elizabeth shut her eyes and smiled.

“James, have we talked enough for your tastes or is it still too early in the evening for you?” she teased. “Pardon me for my forwardness, Captain, but all this talk about ownership does things for me.”

“Ah, but I so enjoy seeing you like this.”

“Like what-”

“Breathless and eager-”

“Careful application of your hand will get you more of it-”

Of course it would; even saying so did.

“-and finishing you off would put a swift end to it. No, I think I should prefer to enjoy prolonging it a bit.”

She let out an affronted peal of laughter, but even as that died down she looked at him with earnest wonder. James lifted his eyebrows in questioning amusement.

“What is it?”

“I wish I knew,” she said sincerely.

James tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled up at her from where he lay.

“Perhaps it is not ours to question,” he said, “only to be happy in it.”

She returned his smile, leaned in to kiss it.

“I hope,” she said, hesitating after beginning, then going on anyway, reaching to clasp his hand as she did, “we would have found our way to this if we’d married, too.”

James paused, blinked a few times, and then slowly smiled again.

“One can only hope.”

“Even if you would not show me your scars on our wedding night,” she teased him.

“A gruesome topic for a wedding night, wouldn’t you say?” James retorted. “I know I’m hardly ravaged, but there’s a time and a place for such things-”

“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth, her voice low and warm, cupping his cheek again and leaning in as though to kiss him. “The wedding night.”

He laughed again, defeated. “All right, a fair point. You may look on them now, if you like.”

“Why don’t you show them to me?” asked Elizabeth, languidly propping herself up on one hand.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Of course-”

James pushed himself up and started trying to extricate himself from his jacket as quickly as possible, with a gesture for her to be patient. She wasn’t, though, and helped undo the closures with an air that made that very plain.

“Show me - show me like you would have shown me then,” said Elizabeth - her shyness returning, though her ability to breathe did not. “As if we were starting - from the beginning.”

“...ah,” said James. “Well, ah-”

He made another gesture for patience and stood- nearly rolled himself from the bed, in fact, and tried to recall who he might have been three or four years previously under circumstances such as these.

“Elizabeth,” he began- he linked his hands behind his back, without thinking- “I don't wish to alarm you, but I feel as though I cannot proceed in this without a bit of preamble-”

Elizabeth swallowed back a laugh and did her best to look innocent and cautious - and then, actually remembering what she had been like back then, a little dubious. She had not meant this sort of mummery, but when faced with the opportunity she would gladly claim the idea as her own.

“Certainly you are aware that the Navy man’s lot in life is not an easy one,” he continued, lifting his chin despite his back still being turned to her. “I count myself very lucky, for a man of my rank.”

“Will you not at least turn and face me?” asked Elizabeth, starting to remember, too, why she had liked him less then.

His posture loosened as he turned around- he had to remind himself to straighten it again, as though he had not very recently buried his face between this woman’s thighs.

“Forgive me.”

“That is easily done, with perhaps a bit of encouragement, J- Commodore Norrington,” said Elizabeth, recalling with a pang of guilt that she had called him that even up to the end of their engagement.

“I don't wish to alarm you- or invoke your pity, either,” said James. “Only to prepare you-”

“For what? I am not ignorant of the- the customs and expectations of matrimony-”

“I don't mean to impose anything further than the awareness of- the ways in which I have been marked during the course of my career,” he said carefully.

“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, with perhaps more interest than she would have actually shown if such a day had come to pass.

“Er, yes,” said James. He came to sit beside her again and took her hands in his.

After a moment of looking her in the eyes, he faltered.

“This- er, well, I probably would have removed the wig here,” he said, “so we can probably just ignore that-“

Elizabeth rubbed his hair, which was a bit longer than it would have been.

“And I suppose I would have done that, too. I want to believe I would have, at any rate,” she said, with a faint, agreeable smile.

“This would have shown on its own,” he said, pulling his hair back from the scar on the side of his head. “Rather starkly, at the time. You’ll have to imagine that.”

“And I would have…”

She brushed her thumb over it.

“Do you want me to continue like this, or…”

“Please.”

He cleared his throat.

“All right,” he said. “That's the worst of them. I hope that is a reassurance.”

“Is it?” asked Elizabeth, dubious again. “I don’t mind to see the… the proofs of your courage, Commodore.” And though she rather suspected this was not actually how things would have gone, she touched him on the shoulder and said, more softly, “- or James. May I call you James?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course, Elizabeth.”

“I’m sorry I did not do it sooner,” she said, and realized with a flush of warmth that she was worse than sorry, and not at all playing pretend. The sudden shine in her eyes was real.

“I don't blame you,” he said softly.

He could have kissed her in that moment, but belatedly recalled that she wanted to continue play-acting. James blinked rapidly and looked down.

“Shall we continue-”

“May we?” she asked, rubbing her nose swiftly and decisively.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I ought to get to it.”

He returned to unfastening his weskit, with the occasional brief look in her direction.

Elizabeth set her jaw determinedly and tried to stay in character. James was making it very easy - boring as he had ever been - but guilt was making it a challenge for her.

“Would you-”

She had found herself too authoritative, addressing a question as though it were a command, and had to shut her eyes and work out the more hesitant, softer tone necessary. “Would you like my help undressing?”

James paused with his hands on the closures as his eyes met hers. A moment later, he nodded and moved his hands away.

She’d helped him do this twenty times now at least, and somehow it still felt different in this context. She had been aware through all the stages of their relationship of what it might have been, and it hung over them now like a heavy curtain. Her breath caught at the sight of him as if she really were ridding him of a military uniform, and she flushed with embarrassment at that.

“We’ll pretend this was more difficult, I suppose,” James said awkwardly. “Cravat and all that-”

Elizabeth kissed him on the throat in response to that - timidly, she recollected just in time. Self-consciousness provided her some realism.

“Would you have minded this terribly?” she asked, touching his collarbone. “You had always been so overdressed around me.”

“It was a uniform, Elizabeth,” he said. “I hardly gave it any thought past keeping it in order.”

“Yes, but to be undressed right in front of me,” she pressed. She maintained eye contact as she insisted, but her eyes dropped to his chest as it was revealed to her. “And to be - to be staring, I would have stared -”

“You would have been my wife,” said James.

“As though that would have made a difference to your shyness so soon-”

“It would have been expected of me,” he retorted, “and as I don't exactly have anything to hide under here-”

“All right,” she said, with a touch of impatience, meeting his eyes sparingly but fiercely - rather a bit too like she had once done. “And it isn’t as though you hadn’t seen me undressed - twice, by that point.”

“There would have been nothing to mind,” he said. “I would not have wished to impose further, had you expressed any reluctance.”

“I wouldn’t have, but you would have seen it just the same. Sent me to bed and slept beside me as stiff as a tin soldier - not in an enjoyable way, either-”

“There was no right to be claimed- my studies of how to please you or no, I would not have wished to force you-“

“I would not have needed you to force me,” she said, a hard note of insistence entering her voice.

“I know you would have stared,” he said wearily. “Why else would I have undressed before you in Tortuga?”

“Did you like it? Did you want to-” She glided a fingertip down his chest and to his navel. “-Provoke it?”

“You were married,” he said grimly, “or at least, I thought you were at the time.”

“Being engaged to you did not prevent me from staring at other men,” she reminded him, sharply, so as to dissolve his guilt.

“You did not love me then.”

“- no, I didn’t,” she said, uncomfortably. “And I would not have on our wedding night. But I would still have had eyes.”

“I would not have wanted you like that on our wedding night,” James admitted, after a long silence.

Elizabeth took his hand and clasped it a long time.

“When would we have… do you think…”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It grew further from my mind the longer the engagement progressed.”

“Because you could tell, you mean-” she said bitterly.

“...yes,” he said. “Because I could tell. I thought- perhaps at sea-“

Elizabeth pulled him to her and kissed him quiet. James put his arms around her in relief and gratitude.

“That is what happened, isn’t it - after all-” she managed between kisses.

“In a way- good lord, Elizabeth, is it terrible to be glad we were never married-“

“Would we have still found this-” she asked, with her eyes finding his.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can only hope so, but with so little to be sure of…”

“I’ve spent months wondering about it - how I gave you up, how I ruined your life -” Elizabeth drew him back to the bed, drowning him in kisses.

“Elizabeth- for all you know I might have lost you with the Dauntless-“

“As if the sea could claim me -” scoffed Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth-”

“I’ll only let you do that,” she murmured against his mouth.

“How are you so adept at this?” James said, as impressed as he was confused. “You have a greater knack for steering everything in that direction than any man I’ve ever known.”

“What direction?” asked Elizabeth, straddling him on the bed - “sex?”

“I was attempting to be more delicate than that.”

“Perhaps it is only because I am not a man,” she said, smirking.

“Mm. By now, I daresay it wouldn’t matter if you were.” He pulled her down and kissed her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that….”

She licked him on the ear and whispered, “I’d have really fucked you by now.”

James was shocked into laughter.

“Elizabeth-”

“You’d have liked it, James,” she baited him, moving her mouth - and her tongue - over to his mouth.

“Of course I would have,” he said, making a fist in her hair. “It’s you, after all-”

She groaned a little loudly, shutting her eyes.

“-and you remember what I told you, months ago-”

“God, as though I could forget-”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, but pleased.

“James, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever been told-” she said, pulling back to look him in the eye, although a shy expression of pleasure came into her gaze.

James blinked in slow shock, and then moved his hand from her hair to her cheek.

“...it’s true,” he said, in a soft voice. “Every word of it. God help me- it might have been easier if I did not love you for some time there, but… I don’t believe it’s anything that can be helped.”

“Thank you,” she said, when she had found her voice again; “for waiting for me.”

“I would wait decades for you, if I had to,” James said, stroking along her cheekbone with his thumb.

“You don’t need to go so far as that,” said Elizabeth, biting back a greater smile and looking aside, just slightly away from his eyes. “I plan to never make you wait again.”

“Will you still have me as your dog?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“For always, I hope,” she said, meeting his eyes now.

“Before others,” he said, “I think that is what I must be.”

“They’ll know I love you,” she said, caressing his cheek, first with her fingertips and then her knuckles, back and forth, and then his throat, just the same. “They may think something a little cruel in that love, but I won’t be able to hide it, so I will not try.”

“I can manage that,” he said. “I didn’t spend twenty years in the service to rankle under authority.”

“Especially authority as sweet as mine,” she said coaxingly, before laughing at herself. But she touched his lips and said sincerely, “You know I love you, James. So much.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I do know, now.”

She kissed him, cupping his cheek as she did.

“It is a greater gift than I dared hope to receive any longer,” James said, pulling her against him and embracing her, nuzzling into the mass of her hair. “God- Elizabeth, there is no world in which I could not love you-”

Elizabeth held him and rolled over hard, to bring him halfway on top of her.

“In this world, at least, I promise you won’t lose me either,” she said in a near whisper.

James had to brace himself, with an awkward little bark of laughter, to keep from falling on her. The whole cot was sent rocking.

“Noted-”

“Oh, James-”

“What is it, love?”

Elizabeth let out a tiny laugh that died on her lips, tilting her head as she looked at him, fond and a little embarrassed. “Oh, James,” she had to repeat.

She had not reacted like this since the night she had saved him in Tortuga, and that somehow seemed more distant to him than even their former lives. Those seemed to exist nearly simultaneously, but behind a pane of glass- inaccessible, yet always visible. Their life now- his life, this life- had become so much the status quo already that it was strange to think that its course had begun so recently.

He pushed his fingers back through her hair and she shut her eyes and leaned into it.

“Don’t stop that,” she whispered, biting her lip.

“This- now, this, I might easily have done on our wedding night-”

“Mmm.”

“It seemed indecent to even think of it.”

“Touching my hair? Oh, James, good lord, imagine-”

“It’s a matter of context-”

“What a delightfully filthy idea,” she continued to tease him, wetting her lips and smiling.

“Didn't tend to imagine it quite so golden, though-”

“Well, no. It wasn’t.”

“Mm. Well, I like it golden-”

“I like that you like it,” she murmured.

“I like everything about you,” he said warmly, pulling her in for another kiss.

Elizabeth felt her face heat up and broke the kiss, as well as she could given the overall mood of the evening. “Surely not everything-” she faltered.

“Elizabeth, you're forcing my comments toward the filthy,” he half-grumbled. “Everything is close enough-”

“I did not mean it like - that,” she said, mortified. “I only meant - my pride and my stubborness. My tact - or if you rather my lack of tact-”

“Mm. Well. I was not thinking of that-”

“Something less literal? You like the idea of me?”

“Oh God- Elizabeth-”

He scrubbed at his face with his free hand, his voice a barely audible mutter.

“I like- I enjoy looking at you.”

“Oh my G- was that all it was? You like everything you see?” She started laughing, momentarily more relieved than flattered.

“Yes,” James groaned. “Christ- I'm still accustoming myself to this degree of informality between us-”

“Oh, dear, do you need a little bit more practice?” she asked, too innocently to mean anything but carnally.

“Oh, my God-”

She rubbed the back of his neck with a fraction more sincerity. He leaned into it- James never recognized his own muscle tension until she was relieving it- and gradually lowered his face to her shoulder in an attitude of defeat.

“I feel I am doomed to perform very poorly at being dreadful on your account if I can't handle so much as this,” he confessed. “I am brought low far too easily.”

“I do not mind you brought low - you have done some of your very best work for me in such a state as that,” said Elizabeth, holding him possessively closely, “but if you can see to it you are only done in by me, I would appreciate it. Remember who you belong to.”

“I know,” he sighed. “My God. I can promise you, I used to be better than this.”

“Why did becoming a pirate make you worse.”

“It was preceded by a long period of drunken wretchedness,” James said flatly. “I imagine that’s to blame.”

“We’ll make you better,” she said decisively.

“I am working on it, whether you can tell or not,” James said, with deeply wounded dignity.

“I can’t,” she said gamely, “though that is also because I can’t tell you have performed poorly by your own standards. I always find you competent at the very least. I have always admired you, and now that my admiration is joined by tender feelings and not a little bit of lust, I am probably blind to your faults.”

“I used to think that that was my worst,” he said. “The way I was… then. Not before you, but at sea.”

“And what do you think now?” she asked, briefly pausing in her administrations to the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said grimly, “I haven’t been back in battle in a good while.”

“Oh, that will probably change sooner than you’d like, and it will probably be ghosts or sea monsters or some other thing. This is an awful crowd.”

“Indeed,” he said dryly. “And there I will be, with none of my earlier resources to draw upon.”

He lifted his head enough to smile at her and assure her he wasn’t completely sinking away again.

“Yes; you will have something better,” she said, and she whispered into his ear something entirely too filthy.

“Oh God-”

His head dropped again. Elizabeth started to laugh at him again, faintly, barely suppressing it against his shoulder.

“Will that not fortify you?” she pressed on.

“I meant,” he said, “without my typical resources toward inspiring terror-”

He felt like a petulant child, and shut himself up again as he weighed his words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, more even.

“You may recall that I had another name before I was Her Majesty’s dog,” said James. “The Scourge, they used to call me. God help me, I had earned it, too. I used to fear your learning of it in any detail. I suppose that hardly matters now.”

She stroked his hair. It did not matter, but she was impressed with it nonetheless.

“I doubt that carries much weight among these people any longer, regardless,” he said. “One can hardly keep up that kind of reputation when rumor has it one is being bent over a desk on a habitual basis.”

That was another thought for another night - she did not think it would have been fair to suggest it when they had still been unable to enjoy each other the other way around - and she reluctantly put it out of mind.

“I don’t think it would be impossible to remind them,” she said diplomatically. “Surely it will all come back in time.”

“One can only hope dog’s-head boot buckles and what have you can inspire a similar degree of dread as the slow removal of one's coat,” James commented.

After a pause, he added, “Because of the bloodstains, you see-”

Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly. James pushed himself up in concern.

“Are you all right?”

She bit her lip. “I’m picturing it-”

“Oh, my God-”

“So if we had married, things would have come around eventually,” she said optimistically. “You couldn’t have kept that a secret.”

She remembered with some shame how insipid, how oppressively bland she had thought being married to him would be, but that only meant that her turnaround would have happened all the more willingly.

“That's true,” he conceded. “I couldn't exactly tell your father of any of that, either.”

“I would have been besotted,” she laughed.

“Once you stopped fussing, perhaps,” he said, leaning up properly now to brace himself up on his elbow. “I used to- oh, God, it sounds ridiculous to explain it now-”

“Please go on.”

“Cheap wine skins under my shirt.” He patted at his side to illustrate where he could have situated them. “Flat, unnoticeable. If they were slashed, my clothes would be soaked red in an instant. A bit of warfare of the mind, you could say, to fool an opponent into believing I was fighting through a wound that ought to have been lethal-”

Elizabeth started to giggle. “I don’t think fussing would be necessary, for I would have gotten the shirt off you to see how bad the wounds were and uncovered the deception too quickly for that-”

“The devil you would have! I would have warned you first.”

“Either way, you cannot pretend you would have fooled me.”

“You're a great deal smarter than most of these people,” James said dryly. “Most of them seemed to believe I was up and about with an impossible head injury, at that.”

“I’ve had….” This was an unpleasant thing to talk about; she wanted to keep on talking about James, Scourge of the Caribbean, and fancy a better ending for them if they had gotten married when planned, but once the topic had been brought up, it was the honorable thing to do to at least acknowledge it. “I’ve had four times the education anyone else here has had,” she admitted, then, not sounding proud of it. “And I squandered a lot of that to read about pirates anyway. I am sure I would have been very stupid if I had not been forced to my studies.”

“Ignorance and stupidity are two very distinct things,” James said, rather dismissively. “Believe me, there's plenty of both to go around in the Navy as well.”

“Look,” she said, after a moment, a little unwilling to argue. “My first experience with pirates - an experience you shared, if you recall - involved ghosts and curses. I doubt that it is really that strange for a lot of these people to consider that the Crown may have undead pirate hunters to sic on them.”

“Oh, naturally,” he scoffed. “That's what made it so easy to exploit. I suppose we shall have to decide how that factors into my current status.”

“What is more fearful,” she teased, grateful to be off other topics, “death, or woman leaders?”

“A woman leader followed by three dead men, I would imagine.”

Elizabeth giggled again, leaning up enough to nuzzle him.

“We’ll have to devise a new impossible wound,” he said lightly, putting his arm around her. “The previous one is already out of sight most of the time, and will only be more obscured when I can tie my bloody hair back again-”

“Ohh, poor James,” she said, continuing to burrow into his arms.

“I’m not suggesting it’s the end of the world-“

“No, of course not, merely a great burden for you to shoulder,” she continued in the most tender tone of voice, rubbing his back.

“It's damnably annoying- I am permitted to be annoyed, you know-”

“Believe me, if you were not, I would remind you,” said Elizabeth, laying back again, and smirking up at him, tendrils of sunbleached hair falling in a tangle over her forehead. She touched his lips absently. James kissed that fingertip and stretched himself beside her, pushing her hair from her face and letting it trail over his hand.

“I know I hardly need to ask this,” he said, “but I dearly hope you never cut this off.”

“I was not planning to. I did consider it, when I went incognito after Will and Jack, but I decided my reluctance was all the advice I needed.”

“Your impatience with it would be worse than my own,” James chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle it- and her as well.

“I do like that you like it,” she admitted, touching his own hair, and urging him closer. “I like that more than I like it myself.”

“Ah, now there's a familiar feeling,” he said, muffled by her collarbone.

“Which is?”

“To enjoy being liked for some particular quality more than that quality itself.”

“Well, I only feel that with you - and my father,” she amended, gently chucking him under the chin. “To hell with what other people think of me.”

“Mm. I have come to feel similarly about you.”

“Good boy,” she whispered.

James laughed, startled.

“You’ll note I have not yet shaved-”

“Yeah,” she said, gripping him by the jaw affectionately. “I admit I am a little bit relieved. I like you roguish.”

“I knew it-”

“I only wanted what was best for you,” she protested.

“I’m not sure I have a best anymore.”

“Well, on that we are not in agreement; I have decided what is best for you is whatever I like most. On that note, you are keeping the beard. I don’t mind that it tickles. I have nothing to compare it to, anyway.”

“Noted,” James said dryly. “I shall try not to disappoint.”

“You never have,” she said fondly.

“I'm not particularly disposed toward the suggestion of a scarf.”

“Then ignore it.”

“I'm not going to stop complaining,” he said, very firmly. “I've earned that.”

“You have not!”

“Other than that,” he said, “I suppose I'm at your disposal-”

“I think earrings. Or an earring. Not one of those little manly hoops, though - something that dangles. It’ll blend in with your hair, I think, for the most part, but catch the light and look so pretty. Silver, I think. It’s a better color for you.”

“I'm sorry, what-”

He leaned back up on his elbow in abject alarm.

“I believe you heard me, Captain.”

“Yes,” he said, “but I never can tell when you're joking-”

“Well, I’m not,” she said crossly. “Don’t complain about this one, please.”

“How, exactly, do you intend to go sticking a new hole in my body-”

“Gin. Needle. Your sweet patience and an earring - something expensive, I think.”

“Oh, my God,” James groaned, laying back down.

There was a pause.

“... something dangling, though-”

“Yes. You really couldn’t pull off hoops, I don’t think - you’re somehow too….” She frowned at him. “Delicate.”

“That's a new one,” said James.

“Refined, perhaps.”

“It's going to be some time before I've enough hair for it to blend with, as you put it.”

“I don’t care. You’ll let me have what I want, won’t you?”

“I- yes, of course,” he said as he lay back down, a little bewildered. “How long have you been thinking of this?”

“At least all of today,” she said airily, to disguise how she felt about what she was about to confess. “I thought we could share a pair - although I do not look better in silver. I am willing to make a concession for you.”

James scoffed. “This is your idea. If you’d rather gold, it’s all quite the same to me.”

“No, you wouldn’t wear it well enough.”

“Fine-“

“Well, now all of that’s settled,” said Elizabeth, stretching herself out on the bed while sneaking a look at him that was not sneaky enough not to be noticed, nor intended to be.

James’s eyebrows drew together.

“What now?” he asked suspiciously.

“What indeed,” she said, sliding her leg over his.

“Ah,” he said. “That.”

“James,” she pleaded.

“I haven’t got a quondam-“

“Well, maybe we should start a family. Though I am not naming any son of mine Weatherby. I’ve always told father that. We agreed ‘Henry’ will do; it is his middle name.”

James slowly sat up again, staring at her unbrokenly as he moved all the way up.

“...Elizabeth?”

“Darling?”

“Are you- darling, are you serious?”

He reached for her hands. She laced their fingers together.

“I don’t want a child,” she said earnestly, but held onto him tightly, and kept her eyes on his - willing him to see her sincerity. “But would it be so terrible if we had one unplanned? We could die on this rescue mission. That would be a reliable form of birth control, to be sure. Then perhaps we may not conceive at all. And if we conceive, and we survive, then… well, then we would certainly have our work carved out for us. I don’t know how long you could be my dog before it interfered with our child-rearing, but…. We could work it out as it happens. James?” She rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles, then leaned in and kissed them. “We’re free out here. We can do anything we want.”

“I know,” he said. “And truly, I would give you all the assistance you require. But Elizabeth-”

“Yes, James?”

“Are you certain-”

“Yes - yes, I’m absolutely certain-” she said, a little feverishly, pulling him to her. “It’s worth the risk - and I have no worry for the consequences. I know that I can do and handle absolutely anything that falls in my path - and that you would be a wonderful father -”

“Elizabeth,” he reminded her, though he had to pause for a kiss- “Elizabeth, nine months is a rather long time-”

“Grania O’Malley,” she murmured. “Nothing shall ever slow me down-”

“Elizabeth…”

He kissed the edge of her mouth, already moving down toward her throat.

“Come back up here-” she laughed, wanting to taste him.

“Mm- you're right, it's safer up there-”

“Safer?” she asked, pausing as their lips touched, knowing she wouldn’t want to keep speaking once she kissed him.

“Less likely to lead anywhere unplanned,” he laughed.

“Ah, well - let’s do it anyway-” she laughed, and smooched him.

“Swann or Norrington, do you think-”

“James!”

“I'm making certain you're certain!”

“Swann, then!” she griped, and putting her arms around him she fell backwards to the bed.

“Mm- noted-”

He didn't add anything after that. His mouth was rather preoccupied.

The thought of having a child - of becoming pregnant with one - still left her with a quiet sense of unease. It was mostly to do with the immediate concern of their plans, Pirate King and dog - the reality of raising a baby could not emotionally touch her no matter how much James implored her to consider it, so instead she was hung up on what a difficulty it would be to make all the sea quake with fear of her when she was pregnant and enormous - to make others dread James again, while keeping him firmly beneath her boot, when they were raising a child together. To say nothing of the fact that the language she had adopted towards him in public could never, ever reach a child’s ears - children cannot hear their parents say such things to each other, even in play; they are too young to understand it.

But she was not lying when she told him that if it happened, she could weather it - they could weather it together. Perhaps they would have to raise a baby instead of raising hell - perhaps they would not be so terrifying as they wanted to be. But what was the point of wanting freedom if one only gave oneself new restrictions? She would not be tied down by her dreams of power; she refused. And just once, just one chance to know him - she would take the risk for that. Sometimes it seemed inevitable that he would die on this mission - in her mind, it was always James she feared dying, never herself - and she could not bear even the imaginary grief. Having him beforehand would probably not lighten that if it came to pass, nor did she think, if she were to conceive, that raising a child alone after losing him would be any easier; but those hardships seemed to pale in comparison to the possibility of regret. To never have him at all, to have loved him and lost him and never had him, would have been the worst possible feeling for her.

There was, however, nothing frantic in the way she kissed him; now that she had finally persuaded him, she felt free to take her time. The only reminder of her plans now was in the way she led him between her thighs, and even that, she did slowly - there was so much else to do in the meantime.

James’ hand had settled on her belly in a pensive way even as he kissed her collarbones, over her breasts, her shoulders. He had remained sober for a few months now; there was now an even greater pressure to remain so if- somehow, God forbid- things went predictably in the most complicated possible direction and she fell pregnant. He was not a violent drunk, except where taverns full of taunting pirates and the chance to kill Jack Sparrow were concerned. Most of the brawling he’d gotten into during his low year had been miserably sober and in the pursuit of getting drunk again, and that was less of a concern around a hypothetical child. But he was reckless, he knew that much, and that frightened him just as much.

And even if he and Elizabeth somehow turned into outstanding parents on the first try, his stomach clenched uneasily at the thought of raising a child on board the Empress, bearing witness to engagement after engagement, being shushed while he or Elizabeth dealt with prisoners, wearing the tiniest imitations of pirate finery either of them could find-

“If it's Swann,” he murmured, lips against the soft inside of her wrist, “you may have to reconsider Eliza for a girl.”

“Why’s that?” she murmured, extending her fingers to brush them against his cheek.

“Imagine it. Sixteen years from now, a second Elizabeth Swann running about the oceans, raising Cain with the wind in her hair, attracting all kinds of attempts on her life meant for her mother-"

“-whom, I assume, she would be like enough in temperament to handle it,” said Elizabeth, before admitting in a quieter voice, “I can’t even picture sixteen years from now.”

“Suppose she were not,” James said softly. “It would be a heavy burden to place on a child’s shoulders, that sort of legacy. Any child of ours will have some degree of that. I'm not worried that either of us will turn into the Admiral, but I was raised at sea and in his shadow all the same. Any child we have will be notorious from the moment you begin to show, whether they like it or not.”

“And I am not worried any child of ours will grow into Jack Sparrow,” she said impatiently, “but we wouldn’t be the first to do it, and we cannot be worse than Teague - or your father, for that matter. Anyway everyone must have some variation of this concern when they join in the marriage bed, and many people who don’t think about it end up with inadequately cared for children. We’re better off than many, and children are the primary result of this kind of cohabitation. Even if we had a quondam, it wouldn’t be a guarantee - so unless you are expecting me to live with you and long for you without satisfaction for the rest of my days, you cannot convince me not to want you by threatening me with babies.”

“If you insist.”

There was another little pause.

“And all this assumes only one child-”

She burst into laughter, but it was a bit edgy at this point. “God, James!”

“I'm not the one to carry and deliver it,” James insisted. “I must ask you to take this seriously-”

“How much more seriously am I to take it?”

“Are you eager enough to have me that you are comfortable with that risk?”

“The risk will always be there! So yes-”

“It will be much less of one when we've located a quondam-”

“And when that is located - will you then finally stop-”

“Yes! Elizabeth, that's all I'm waiting for-”

She looked frustrated and uneasy, clenching and unclenching her hands on the sheets. Finally she tried to relax her jaw, and said, “James, I don’t - I don’t want - if something happens to one of us - “ to you, though, as she thought privately - “I don’t want us to have never known each other.”

“My mouth has been- honestly, Elizabeth, I believe I’ve known you better than many men know their wives in decades of marriage-”

“It feels incomplete,” she said mournfully.

“You’ve likely had a more complete experience by that method than I could give you by entering you to begin with,” he said flatly.

“It’s not about - James, it’s not about just - that,” she said, flushing.

“I know,” he said. “But… Elizabeth-”

James settled his hands on her shoulders.

“I love you. I love you too much to ask you accept this lightly.”

“It must be accepted whatever happens,” she whispered, struggling with her agitation. “Whatever we do, quondams or not - it will always be a risk, don’t you understand that?”

“I don't understand why it must be like this,” he said, a little wearily.

“Like what?”

“In a rush, with our thoughts elsewhere and this sense of dread hanging over us both-”

“You are the one bringing both of those things! I just want to adore you, dammit-”

He kissed her.

“Elizabeth…”

“What now-” she asked, but her anger had dissipated considerably.

“I’m sorry,” he said.”But I cannot do that to you. It's painful, it's dangerous- good Christ, some women are practically disfigured by an unfortunate enough pregnancy-”

She could have choked, pushing him back very quickly to look him dead in the eye. “Never? You mean to tell me we are never-”

“When the risk is lower,” he said, trying to take her hand. “It will always be possible, but damn it, Elizabeth, we cannot play dice with this-”

Elizabeth groaned and pressed her forehead against his chest. James threaded his fingers back into her hair with a moody sigh of his own.

“I don't understand why this matters to you,” he said. “I've heard it's not terribly pleasant on your end to begin with.”

“Because it-” She broke off sharply and bit her lip, pushing her face against him harder.

“Because what? It appears if I die, the lot of you can come back for me,” he pointed out.

“Because it’s what spouses do,” she said through gritted teeth. “Degenerate pirates may do whatever they like and call that binding but a husband and wife do one very specific thing to consummate their marriage and I haven’t done it.”

James had to stop and take this in for a moment, going still against her.

“Well,” he said, “we are not married, and I can assure you that even if we had, similar precautions would have been taken-”

“Would they have been?” she asked, with a strange flood of relief, and a pang of guilt. “Did you never want a child with me?”

“Oh, God, Elizabeth,” he said. “Of course I want a child with you.”

“Really? Then why-”

“Haven't you got enough on your plate without that?” James asked.

“Now. But not then-”

“Living at sea? On a patrol vessel? The consequences would hardly have been any less dire then than they are now if any part of it went away.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly.

“I say this for your sake,” said James. “I hope you can at least understand that.”

“I don’t think you know what is for the best as well as you think you do, but I do understand.”

“My mother was well nigh crippled carrying me,” he said, a little ruefully.

“She wasn’t carrying your older brothers,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Women are not supposed to give birth so late in life.”

“She was scarcely twenty when she birthed Lawrence,” James countered, “and had the fever for four weeks after. I believe the difference there was comprised of Lawrence being the fruit of their wedding night, and not a nasty shock.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t have had me on our wedding night?” Elizabeth asked - not a demand, but too forwardly. “Trying to avoid being at all like your father?”

“What? Oh- no, no, it's nothing as… charged as that,” said James.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she pressed onward. “You had scarcely managed to convince me you had loved me and truly wanted to marry me for myself and not simply my father’s favor before you began to impress upon me just how far from yourself you intended to keep me.”

“A lack of intent to use you for my own enjoyment is not distance.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Of course I want you,” he said, cupping his hands around her face.

“You want to preserve me,” she said, grimacing. “That is the only way you express your love. I feel - God help me, James, I thought marrying you was going to be like being shut up in a little box, and I still feel like I’m in there sometimes.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted. “I would think that’s something different.”

“I only want -”

She caught herself before blurting something insensitive, pulling his hands from her face out of a sense of duty. James might not want to hurt her, but she had a startling knack for hurting him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “there are other ways we can pass our time, you know.”

“It isn’t the same.”

“You’re right, it’s more enjoyable.”

“James,” she said firmly, “I enjoy your company, I enjoy talking with you, but it isn’t the same.”

“I wasn’t speaking of conversation.”

“I don’t want you to think of me as your mistress,” Elizabeth said heatedly, without thinking. “I am not some - some -”

Elizabeth let off with an agitated hiss through her teeth. She did not know what she meant to say, but none of it could have been good. She ran her fingers through her hair til it fell over her face, and then she pressed her eyes into the palms of her hands and sighed.

“Forgive me, James, I want to be your wife.”

James’s response was not even hurt so much as concerned.

“Do you consider it the lot of a wife, then, to be impersonally emptied within and then dismissed to sleep?” he asked, tentatively brushing her hair aside.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“I don’t want to serve you - I know you would never take me like that anyway. That was never even a concern before. But I am - I am so burdened by the inverse. You wanting always to serve me, barely wanting me to touch you - I want to be together. This is not together, James, it is just… it just you playing forever at being my dog.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said. “This is… exactly how I might have treated you as my wife.”

He shook his head slowly.

“Then we would have come to the same place eventually, I suppose. I thought - I thought you must have been treating me differently. Oh, God’s wounds, I know that you hate the place but I wish we were back in Tortuga. I miss what we were like in Tortuga.”

“Has it changed?” he asked, his frown deepening. “As I recall, I did not consider it wise to do what you ask of me there, either.”

“I don’t know. It seemed more domestic then.”

“I have not changed in my feelings toward you, if that’s a concern.”

“I already know your heart is mine,” she murmured, pulling him wearily into an embrace. “It’s the rest of you I lack.”

James put his arms around her.

“There are few things in the world more one-sided and joyless than a man penetrating a woman,” he said, “or so I have been told. When one adds to that the consideration of the physical complications of pregnancy, I fear above all else that I would be inviting your resentment.”

“Then let me have you otherwise,” she said with a note of desperation in her voice. “You cannot tell me you are sparing me your selfishness when you are merely displacing it onto me instead. Let me tend to you, the way you tend to me - you make it seem as though it is a chore to be endured -”

“I don’t derive the degree of enjoyment you wish to give me from that,” James said, rubbing her shoulder now. “I’m much happier tending to you, I can assure you-”

“Now who is being selfish?”

“Elizabeth,” he laughed. “Lie down, and let me enjoy you.”

She did not comply - she did not say anything. She looked up at him moodily and her eyes flashed betrayal.

James sighed heavily, looking away.

“I don’t know how I can convince you of the intensity of my wanting,” he said, holding her a little tighter, “without feeling that I am using you for my own benefit.”

“At least do me the honor of acknowledging you are making me feel as though I am using you for mine,” said Elizabeth, her stubbornness colliding with her temper.

“I don’t mind it- heaven’s sake, Elizabeth, it’s all right by me. I don’t enjoy feeling helpless and drained- the blindfold was one thing, but-”

“But I do,” she said desperately.

“Are you saying you want to please me?”

“Yes!” she blurted, taking his face in her hands. “In this one thing, please, please let me be a wife to you and not a king-”

“I don’t want you to be a king then either!” James blurted. “Dear God- that sly, smiling pleasure in seeing me brought low- that’s all very well in front of others, but here-”

That stung. Elizabeth had thought it a game to play, not a cruelty at his expense, and she had believed - he had given her reason to believe - that he had enjoyed it as well as she.

“Let us leave this conversation off for another night,” said Elizabeth in cresting irritation. “Let us use this bed for the only purpose we can agree on.”

“All I’ve ever wanted of you was a wife,” he said, putting his hands on her face in reciprocation. “I was settling for a king. I believed a king was all I could have now.”

“No, you don’t want a wife,” she said, yanking his hands down. “You want some kind of doll-”

“What?” He stared, confused and hurt and completely, genuinely at a loss.

“What made you believe that? I- Elizabeth, if I could have you now, I would. It’s a great difficulty, wanting you as I do and being unable to do anything about it- and feeling all the more ignoble for it.”

“You don’t!” she cried indignantly. “You practically wince if I touch you - as though you hate it!”

“Pardon me for not enjoying an ongoing litany of how helpless I can be made to look, then,” James said stiffly.

“I am going to bed,” said Elizabeth poisonously, making good on this threat by standing abruptly and walking to the side of the bed, getting into it and staring sullenly at the wall, her back to him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, sitting down behind her and touching her shoulder. She shrugged his hand off.

“I said I am going to bed, Captain.”

“I will not trouble you any further if you wish to be left alone after I give my explanation to you,” he said, “but I would like to apologize for my lack of transparency in why I have felt such reluctance to accommodate you. I understand that my actions have been… confusing, in light of how I have asked to be treated in the company of others. I have sought to avoid treating you with any carnal disrespect, and I see now that that has…” He paused and swallowed.

“Miscommunicated the nature of my desire for you, and what I desire of you. For that, I am sorry. If you will have me, I would gladly offer myself to you.”

He touched her shoulder again- more deliberately this time- and stroked her hair away from her neck. She had not turned to look at him yet, but at this, she sank into the bed with relief.

“I am plagued by fear that I am misusing you. I never meant to make you believe I don’t want you. It’s- well, it’s a lot of things. But not wanting you has never been one of them.”

Elizabeth swallowed. “Lie down with me,” she said.

James cautiously stretched himself out alongside her and put his arm around her.

“How's this…?”

“Yes - good. I mean, yes, that’s what I meant -”

He kissed her at the soft place where her neck joined her shoulders, gliding his hand further down her body.

“Forgive me my misunderstanding.”

She took his hand and held it, pressed against her stomach, without any intended meaning behind it.

“If you will forgive me my silk rope…”

“It still makes an excellent blindfold,” he reminded her, with a weak laugh.

“And do you care for an excellent blindfold?”

“I can enjoy an excellent blindfold.”

“I see. Was your enjoyment at all enabled by the fact that you were servicing me at the time?”

“I won't pretend otherwise.”

“So was the blindfold part of that, or…?”

“I felt it improved my focus,” he said, with a small shrug.

“Ah,” she said knowingly; “my very thorough former Commodore,” she added affectionately and turned her head to nuzzle him back. James smiled and kissed her, holding her a little more possessively now.

“This is really not a trait of yours I thought I would come to enjoy, and I seem to be growing used to it,” Elizabeth observed, tilting her head back against his shoulder so that she could just sort of look at him.

“Which trait is that?” He had closed his eyes.

“Your professionalism,” she said, choosing the word particularly.

“It prevented me from any untoward thoughts,” he said, just as particularly.

“Not precisely a problem in my eyes.”

“And at the time,” he said, “wishing to avoid thoughts of drink.”

“Well, I thought you were a bore,” said Elizabeth, rubbing his hand.

“I'm aware,” he said flatly.

“You still are, but it’s…. I’m learning to work my way around it.”

“Thank you,” he said, even more flatly.

“I suppose… It was always an inflexible notion in my mind. That you were you, and I was of course too different from you - James, why didn’t that seem like an obstacle to you? We are so different.”

“I have always loved you as you are,” he said, giving her hair a gentle ruffle.

“And you thought we would - forgive me, you thought we were a suitable match regardless?”

“I was planning to bring you to sea,” he pointed out.

“Yes, where I would apparently be remaining a virgin for some time,” she teased.

He laughed. “I would like to hope, in retrospect at least, that the sight of me covered in blood and wine might have assisted things somewhat.”

“Christ,” she swore. “I would like to see that now.”

“Another reason for you to prefer me in black.”

“I would have torn your soiled clothes off you, darling.”

“Mm. How good to know…”

He kissed her again. Elizabeth squirmed in order to turn over onto her back, and James drew her closer to his body. She freed her hand to touch his face, then his hair, which she gripped as she deepened the kiss.

“You're allowed to do that-” he said softly, in a light gasp from the intensity of her kisses.

She closed her hand into a fist and pulled his head back - smoothly and deliberately, not with a short jerk.

“Good,” she whispered, before kissing him again.

Between pulling him backwards and pushing herself up to take a more aggressive tactic with him, she had soon pushed James onto his back, leaning over him, pressing him into the cot, smothering him, all her hair spilling over her shoulder and over him.

“Do you like this, darling-”

“Of course I do,” she gasped, out of breath.

“Ah- good, then-”

“Do you?”

“Mm- yes, quite-“

She smoothed his hair back over his forehead and smiled down at him. It was done almost grudgingly, but the smile was sincere, if becoming tired.

“Ah- mm. How do you feel about rolling over and-“

“Really?” asked Elizabeth, startled and, perhaps, not displeased. “You want to do that?”

After a second’s pause, she asked, without a change in tone, “With what?”

James had to give himself a moment and run a number of calculations in his head to follow what she meant.

“What? Oh- oh, no, that’s not what I-“

Elizabeth burst into peals of laughter. “So you don’t want to do that-”

“With what, to begin with-“

“That’s what I asked!”

“I was going to ask you how you feel about letting me have a run between your thighs-“

“Oh - I have no idea what I feel. Rather, I have no idea what I would feel- do you happen to know?”

“Well,” he grumbled, “I’d probably have to start you off first-“

“Oh, and now you don’t like that?”

“It sounds as though you don’t-“

“I love it,” she said fervently, “I just wish you would let me touch you too-”

“-and all else aside,” he said, “I can’t fathom it working without getting you good and slick-“

Her mouth opened. James grimaced.

“I know, that’s not what you asked for, but I feel as though I’m going to have an apoplexy if we don’t do something-“

“Oh, please let’s do something-”

Emboldened by this response, James took a moment to consider things one last time, swallowed, and nodded.

“...Eleanor if it’s a girl. What do you say?”

She gave him a very flat look. James had to look away.

“I… God help me. I want to be inside you-“

“I think you have successfully changed my mind on the viability of that suggestion,” she said, albeit more gently than she had initially intended, upon seeing his reaction.

“...right,” he said, feeling more keenly than ever that he was God’s perfect idiot.

She put her hand over his affectionately. James’s eyes flicked toward her and he had to look away in embarrassment.

“Oh, good God,” he muttered.

Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s not as funny as you seem to find it,” he said. “That- good Christ, I’m an idiot-“

“Why?” asked Elizabeth, walking her fingers up his hand and over his wrist teasingly. “Because you want the same things as I do?”

“I regret saying anything on the subject.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s been… enlightening,” she said, scooting close enough to him to lean her head back onto his shoulder contentedly.

“I suppose I’ve little choice now but to lie here consumed by lust,” he said flatly.

“There are other ways to be inside me,” she suggested - a bit shyly, given his record with the topic.

He looked at her in mild discomfort.

“Elizabeth,” he said.

“You liked it before,” she said crossly.

“I don’t understand how the entire process doesn’t strike you as rather unhygienic-“

“If I can go from having regular baths and a personal maid to the lifestyle of a pirate captain, to say nothing of the honeymoon suite I stayed in in Tortuga, I think I can manage one measly little-”

She cut herself off, embarrassed.

“...it’s not that little,” she said feebly. “You know what I mean-”

“No offense taken.”

“Besides, you like doing it to me-”

“You don’t… emit anything with that force-“

“What’s the force got to do with the hygiene?”

“Nothing erupting in my face, for one-“

“Oh, lord, James, I don’t mind any of that-”

“I mind!”

“Please let me have you, James,” she murmured, touching his chest, rubbing her thumb over his bare skin thoughtfully, her eyes dropping contemplatively to her hand and unfocusing.

“I don't know how long I can give you,” he said, a little mournfully, as he stroked her hair back from her face again.

“Such is the way of the fates,” said Elizabeth, voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “I don’t dare to question it.”

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, then just barely released her.

“Touch me.”

He kissed her again, and did not let go this time. James shifted his hips under her to give her better blind access. She did not need to be told twice, biting his lip sweetly at the same time as she gripped him.

He froze up a little- it was impossible not to, not with some of the associations still churning around in his head- but he used the sudden tension in his muscles to pull her down further, harder, almost painfully.

Elizabeth gasped against his mouth, having to pause her kissing to catch her breath, but she returned to both tasks quickly, with earnest enthusiasm and a little bit of initial fumbling. James dragged her down beside him.

“God-”

“You don’t have to call me that, darling,” she said indulgently, before silencing him with her tongue in his mouth.

“Mmf-”

He gripped her shoulders tightly. Elizabeth had to kiss him more slowly in order to focus the lion’s share of her attention on him, but this she did not mind. She could better savor him.

“Good God, Elizabeth,” he gasped. “More-”

“Like this?” she panted.

“Ah- yes, yes-”

“Oh, darling,” Elizabeth moaned against him, shutting her eyes, taking him in.

For a short moment she found time to sympathize with his statements in support of the blindfold, but it was very brief. Her eyes opened soon after to etch his expression into her memory. The look in his eyes when they met hers - that loyal, distracted, proprietary blend of adoration and timid trust that so often provoked feelings of guilt and inadequacy - only brought from her tenderness now; a desire to protect him and please him all at once. She leaned over him a little better, unable to help the wavy lock of her hair that slipped over her shoulder - bare, now; the shoulder of her nightgown had fallen down - and over his face; she was leaning up with one arm braced on the mattress, and would not have withdrawn her other hand from him for every piece of eight in the New World.

“God,” James was moaning. “God, you’re beautiful-”

She smiled without thinking - she was too distracted to reply, but she bit her lip and beamed at him anyway.

“Forgive me my- my earlier reluctance-”

“Forgiven - easily, always - oh, James. My love. My darling Captain-”

“I- oh, Christ, Elizabeth-”

This continued for several minutes longer, before James’s shoulders relaxed and he sank, breathless, into the bed. Elizabeth floated down beside him with a surprisingly solid thunk, nuzzling into his shoulder and shutting her eyes.

There was a long silence.

“Well,” James said at last. His voice was groggy.

She kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Thank you for letting me have that,” she whispered.

“Mmf. Think nothing of it,” said James, closing his eyes.

She kissed him swiftly on the eyelid and then the other, buying her giggling in his collarbones after. James put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest.

“How far along are you?” he murmured.

“Mm - pretty far, I think. I tend to be, you know, you-” She was tracing a shape over his chest with her fingertip idly. “- do things to my senses-”

“Let me… let me see if I can do anything about that…”

He rubbed her thigh.

Her administrations had left her compromised. She let out a very wretched gasp.

“Don’t you need - some time-”

“Only for a certain part-”

“Yes, but to concentrate- don’t you want to - I don’t know, cuddle first?”

James burst into exhausted-sounding laughter. “There's a reversal for you.”

She pouted.

“Of course, sweetheart, of course…” he said, wrapping his arms around her again. She buried her head in his chest again, loving the salt smell of him, the sturdy weight of him.

“Are you completely convinced about the earring?” he teased, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.

“Of course I am,” she said, leaning up to nip his ear.

“My suspicions accounted for a tattoo,” he said, “but never that.”

“A tattoo…” she said, touching his chest again. “Perhaps if you are thoroughly convinced you will love me forever, you could get-”

“Oh, here we go-”

“A swan,” she said offendedly. “What did you think I was going to say? ‘Property of Elizabeth Swann’?”

“You're very thorough yourself,” said James, “though I’m sure you already know that.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Only that you have an impressive number of ideas at your disposal,” said James, reaching up to rub the back of her neck and leaning his own head back into the pillow again to make his hair fall away from his face, if nothing else.

“You are an impressive figure; it’s fun to devise ways to improve on that,” said Elizabeth, perhaps growing drowsy. She rolled over onto him as though she were about to curl up and call it a night, but started kissing him instead - slow and sleepy kisses of delight and gratitude.

“I always wanted to be a project,” he said dryly, but with too much of a smile to imbue it with any real disapproval.

“Maybe not,” she said in a wry voice. “But you did always want to be mine, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, his caressing growing lazier. “And I’ve no point in saving my pride here; I have done nothing less than ask you for exactly this.”

“Oh, James. I still- I still can’t- oh, forgive me for saying it one more time, but I still can’t believe it’s you,” she said, tactless with affection.

“Neither can I,” he admitted, smiling a little abashedly at her.

She matched his expression with a hint of the gawky girl she’d been, before she’d found grace and wit and boldness in spades, and impulsively she kissed him.

“Did you truly think I expected to leave you at home, corseted and doing sums?” he asked, settling both hands comfortably on her back and lacing his fingers together.

“Mmhm. I thought you had no use for me but to make an alliance with my father.”

“I already had that,” he said, a little wistfully. “I had… hopes, that eventually one day you might want me- I felt as though it would eventually be inevitable, some time into our marriage. I'm aware of my good fortune in at least that sense, relative to most of my former peers-”

“I told myself the same thing,” she said, in a distant voice - too profound for apology. “But it seemed so far off at the time.” After a few moments of consideration, hushed and bitter, Elizabeth brightened, nuzzling him to get his attention. “In one matter at least there is a happy certainty. I thought you unappealing enough in the navy uniform that I think I would have been thoroughly struck upon seeing you out of it.”

He laughed at this, too, with perhaps a little bitterness but no anger. “How kind of you to say.”

“I remembered enough of your pig shit ensemble - after you’d joined Beckett’s fleet - that in the period between our parting ways and my seeing you again, I could still remember…”

She trailed off, letting her fingers speak for her as they glided over his throat, mesmerized.

“...ah,” he said. “Well. Thank you-”

“I don’t imagine I’d mind it so much now,” she said on reflection, “now that I love you for thoroughly enlightened reasons, and have seen you nude, of course, but at the time it was a convenient place to sink my dislike. I could not dislike you personally, of course; I had known you since for-ever; you were too nice to me; so the uniform came in handy.” She squeezed his hand. “I think I really just did not like the thought of marriage.”

Marrying Will did not seem to be comparable; they had to marry in order to consummate their love, and besides, in that case, she was marrying down - it meant more liberty than she had ever otherwise known, but her father had meant to provide for her as well as he could, and so she had not faced the financial insecurity that would have otherwise meant. Marrying Will had meant a significant loss of standing and status in Port Royal’s civilized society, and that had been welcomed by Elizabeth with open arms. It had been her first step towards the place she stood now, she understood - embracing the comparable freedom allowed if she could only step away from the limitations of a class-bound, female-unfriendly world and into independence.

She hoped Will understood that someday. That she really had loved him, regardless of whether not she’d eventually stepped beyond him, too.

“Ah,” he said, taking a moment to reflect on this. “Well.”

He fell silent for a little longer, and then abruptly added, “For what it's worth, I would have forgone the damned wig around you whenever possible.”

She smiled faintly. “I would have appreciated that.”

“For that matter,” he added dryly, “I would likely have tried to fit rather more hair beneath it.”

“I think,” she said, in a soft, reconciliatory tone of voice, “that my feelings on the marriage would have changed, as I came to know that you really cared about me, for my own sake - that you wanted my company.”

“I can hope,” he said softly.

“And perhaps we would have walked the deck together and you could have told me about the winds and the stars, and… I would have fallen in love with your attention, and your patience, and your love for me,” Elizabeth said, dazzled; uncharacteristically shy.

“Is that before or after you've torn off my bloodied clothing, hm?” he asked, more wry this time.

“I like to think before. I want to think so - that you would have gotten to know me better in conversation - long before I would have fallen in love with all of your - oh, your danger and courage -”

James kissed her for that. “I hope I can offer you plenty of that now-”

“I would like it - I would like you to-”

“Yes, Elizabeth- anything-”

“- Perhaps if you ever… tire of being my dog… you could still tell me those things, you know. I only know so much - and I don’t know any English lore at all, I’ve just learned from Tai Huang - and we could still…. Walk on the deck, and you could tell me those things, and your old pirate stories - the things you wouldn’t tell me in my father’s house - all the things you were going to tell me after we - You know, after we married -”

Her voice crept upward in pitch just enough to have become a plea.

“I imagine I could do that now,” he said, “if one were to redefine ‘dog’ as strictly more of a wolfhound sort of role.”

“It won’t be the same,” she said with a hint of bitterness playing about her lips. “I still have to be the Pirate King, you know. But - when we’re back - when we’ve returned to the Empress, our ship -”

“Our ship,” he repeated, taking her hands in his. He brought them together and kissed them.

“I-”

James shook his head, as though he were not only surprised, but confused by this turn of events.

“I have so much wasted time that I must make amends for- so much time spent wanting and not having, and then feeling filthy and common for the wanting- and then, to find you believed I never did-”

He let go of her hands now and put his arms around her instead, closing his eyes.

“My God. Elizabeth- you believed I did not want you? I had to tell myself I wanted you less, that I was deluding myself, just to get by. Perhaps- perhaps you were right, and my feelings have been morbidly cool. If they were, they were through my own effort.”

“I wasn’t wholly ignorant,” she protested, overpowered by two different sources of guilt - that she had not wanted him back at the time and that she had now caused him this new crisis. “I knew you wanted to marry me. But I mistook your motives-”

“Because of my own actions,” said James, “and my decision to forcibly estrange myself from my desires.”

“James,” she said, uncomfortably. “It might not have made a difference-”

“I might have been more demonstrative-”

“I don’t want to give you unfounded hope that that might have been enough to capture my heart at that stage in things,” said Elizabeth gently. “I was so much infatuated with Will then, for such a long time.”

“I don't think hope matters for three years in the past.”

Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, willing herself to regret less.

“I only wish…. I wish father could see us. Not perhaps at this particular moment, but just to know-”

“He was proud of you to the very end,” said James. “I don’t know how he would feel about me, but he never regretted your course save to fear for your safety.”

“He’d be smug to be right,” said Elizabeth, opening her eyes with a wry look in them. “About us. He would try to hide it and frame it as about my happiness, of course, not entirely incorrectly, but I’d still be able to tell.”

Elizabeth’s smile faltered, and she pressed her cheek against James’ chest for a bit of comfort.

“...I miss him so much,” she said, feeling a tear leak out of her eye, though she otherwise kept a good lid on it. James pulled her up a little closer to his shoulder and pushed one hand into her hair.

“So do I, love. Every day.”

“I’m glad we…” Her voice squeaked out to nothing, and she cleared her throat. “I’m glad we have each other now - there are many other reasons for that, but I think we are the only two people who really -”

He kissed her forehead in silent understanding. She tilted her head up to accept it.

“Then doesn't matter anymore. You're mine now.”

“Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth with a sniff and an easy laugh. “Please.”

“He used to slip up and call me that even after I made Admiral. For that matter, before I'd made Captain. He never made that mistake with others.”

“Father?”

“It was an affectionate nickname, at first. After that, we had relatively little chance for him to grow used to ‘commodore’, and he knew what Admiral Norrington brought to mind.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I thought he was a bit blinded by paternal pride when he began to transparently push us closer together - in you, not me. I thought he wanted you for a son enough to overlook that you would be ill-suited to his daughter.”

“Do you think he would approve of… this-“

He broadly waved a hand over himself.

“If he approves of me, I don’t doubt he does. He’s probably grateful - probably would be grateful - to you for turning pirate just to take care of me.”

“I thought of him when I did.”

She smiled.

“I can only hope it does not disappoint him to see me doing wolfhound-ish activities on your account,” James added, with a small stressed-sounding laugh.

“I can only hope his vision is limited,” said Elizabeth, affronted.

“I’m beginning to itch for that.”

There was a small pause.

“Don’t worry,” he said, with no change in tone. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“....by what?” she asked in bewilderment.

“I had assumed I would have been engaged more often by now.”

She had completely misinterpreted his itching and was momentarily disappointed, but the notion of James in battle overcame that quickly.

“Ooh, I’m so sorry,” she said with a sly smile. “I promise when we return there shall be lots and lots of ships to raid and wayward pirates to shepherd.”

She kissed his throat and upward, finding his lips with satisfaction.

“I miss the fear,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “God, I miss the fear.”

Elizabeth pressed her face against his neck, momentarily taken aback by that - feeling her cheeks flush and her pulse pound in her temples.

“Oh, God, James,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

He lifted his head in concern. Elizabeth turned her face up to look at him, flushed and breathless and visibly self-conscious of it - then, meeting his eyes to be sure he saw, deliberately rolled down her shift.

“Ah-”

He made a delighted sound and pulled her up for a kiss.

“Further down,” she complained.

“Ah- oh, yes, of course, you poor creature-”

She urged his head to her breasts with her hands in his hair and over his face, slipping her fingertip into his mouth, ruffling his hair, murmuring insistently.

“I want-“

“Not as much as I do -”

“-to be bloodied for you-“

“Ohhh-”

“Will you let me-“

“I shall direct you myself, my love-”

“Your scourge-“

“My darling Captain,” she repeated, feeling the blood rush to her face again. She cupped his face in her hands and just barely tilted his head back to look at him as she glided possessively into his lap, letting her skirt gather around her hips. She released him and moved her hands to his, lifting them to her mouth to kiss his knuckles, then turned them over to kiss his palms.

“Your hands are so rough,” she murmured. “And so strong. I know you will do great things for me with these hands-”

“This- this is what I wanted-“

“Hm?” she queried, taking his fingertip into her mouth and meeting his eyes so that he would know how she felt, how overcome she was with wanting him.

“When I said I would be your dog-”

“Oh, darling, I know,” she said, releasing his finger, and going to the next one. Holding his hand against her face, and bringing the other to her waist, she shut her eyes and said fervently, “Every soul on this ocean is going to fear you - the corsairs who think themselves above all law and order, even the most basic of decency to his fellow man - how they shall dread you again. The East India Trading Company knows damn well what to expect, and you’ll confirm their worst suspicions. Every fat merchant too rich for his own good, every Spanish galleon, every navire français, they’ll bring back their stories of you, James, you shall blacken the Norrington name, you shall haunt it, you shall be better known than your miserable excuse for a father ever was - he’ll come to regret throwing you away on this backwards, lawless place, they’ll wish they kept you in their pocket for the war effort, but it is too late, your fate is quite decided, you have fallen to pirates and the Pirate King; you are mine, my darling, my Captain - they shall know you are the man who holds the heart of Davy Jones to ransom. And I - you shall be my wolfhound and my love - you shall hold my heart too - how does it feel to be the most powerful man on the ocean? I’ll show you. Let me give you that - oh, James-”

He wanted his mouth free to murmur whatever crossed his mind. He slipped the hand on her waist further down.

“Tell me more.”

For a moment she could not even speak, though she was far from silent. Then she swallowed and said, her voice trembling, “You’ll be - every inch - the exact man - I always wanted you to be-”

She took a shallow breath.

“And James- soon I shall have every inch-”

“And more.”

He grinned terribly and intensified his efforts.

It was much too difficult to talk, not even to tell him how infamous and dreadful he would be - she would have to picture it. James with windswept hair, bleeding from minor cuts, probably not soaked with wine - she would have him in black, she thought, so that wouldn’t show. A single earring; a woman’s earring, decadent and incongruously pretty against the aura of menace she knew he would project. James was well-built, tall and broad; all in black, no less, he would stalk more than he would stroll. A long coat, perhaps, would whip in the wind behind him. He would wear boots in black leather, and tarnished silver dog’s heads would be on them, and on his belt, and his hand - beringed, and she would put the rings on him herself, she thought of that too - would rest on a pistol at his hip, while he directed defeated sailors to await judgment with a lazy, confident gesture with his sword.

And he would bow to her when she emerged to pass that judgment - he would catch her by the waist and she would take him by the lapel and she would dip him - she would force him to drop to one knee and she would kiss him. She would taste blood on his tongue, some blow to the face causing his teeth to cut the inside of his cheek at some point - she would smell blood and sweat on him. She would taste it on him later - and everyone would know, they would look at them and know they were in love, know as soon as their victory had been attended to properly that they would have each other at once - spread the story in England and Jamaica and Cuba and Spain and everywhere else where there be sailors that the Pirate King and her dog are dangerous and indefatigable and very, very deep in love.

She could not form the words to tell him all of this, but she managed to gasp out: “You shall be - positively - the most dreaded man in the Spanish main -”

And it struck her as a familiar thing- had she said it to him before? - when she realized she had said it to Jack, when she had seduced him with drink til he had passed out, and what that had possibly meant about her feelings towards Jack even so early as that, and she pushed that out of her mind. She had manipulated Jack to her own ends then; she had meant nothing, she was certain of it. To James she knew she was being sincere, if for no other reason than that she intended to be the most dreaded person, and it suited her to have James be as dangerous as she.

When it was over, he wiped his hand on the sheet and kissed her again, enjoying the weight of her joyously exhausted body on his as he lay back again.

“Did I please Her Majesty?”

His voice was low and rumbling beside her.

“I thought of you,” she said softly, resting her hand wonderingly on her face as she looked at him. “I mean of what you’ll be like, when this rescue mess is over, when we’ve got the Empress back and are doing what we’re meant to be doing. I was seeing you… cleaning the blood from your sword… in my mind’s eye just as you bid me finish,” she said, and she bit her thumb and grinned at him.

He laughed a low, tired, throaty laugh and nuzzled her throat.

‘Such high expectations to live up to.”

Her pleasure was still very near to her, and the slightest touch of his lips to her neck made her freeze up and let out another little cry of his name.

“I shall do my best to exceed them…”

“Yes,” she said faintly. “Very - just so.”

“What were you thinking of?”

He was in her hair again, breathing deeply.

“You,” she said, after thinking of how best to describe it and failing to come up with anything so succinct as that. “Winning battles for me - with me - how handsome you are going to look all in black - how good it is going to feel when I kiss you in front of captured crewmen. Flaunting to all the world how much we -” Her breath caught; she still struggled with openness on this account. “- love each other.” She kissed his temple, which was where her lips fell when she turned her head. “Oh, James, everything you do to me is - is wonderful, but I - I can’t wait until you are - properly situated-”

“Once we’ve finished this, I intend to prioritize that.”

He turned his head to kiss her properly. At least they had that much. She took out her frustrations in that kiss.

“Then we shall be - as good as married - in every way that matters -”

“Yes-”

He was beginning to push her atop himself again, to get a better look at her. When he looked up at her again there was a warm wonder in his eyes and a smile playing around his mouth.

She met his look with a soft smile of her own, wistful and wanting.

“I barely feel satisfied. I want you all over again and I’ve just had you. I begin to live and breathe wanting you,” she complained.

“It’s all right. I’m never leaving you again.”

Elizabeth tenderly settled back down again, lying atop his chest as if she were reluctant to leave even that much.

“All in black, hm?” he teased, rubbing her on the small of the back. “The better to match you, I suppose.”

“I don’t know that I will never let you wear a color again, but it is difficult to imagine you in one - I assume blue is right out, and don’t think red is wise - so black, in different textures. Besides: you have very dark hair, and very green eyes; black will look excellent on you. And you are enormous, so you might as well make the most of that.”

“Ah, yes. Looming.”

“And they’ll tell stories,” she said, stretching out on top of him, “of the man-eating Pirate King and her werewolf consort, I am sure…”

“Oh, my God- is that why I’m resigned to the beard-”

“Perhaps it is. And perhaps I just like the way it scratches when you’re between my legs.”

“With the rest of this insanity, I suppose sea werewolves were only a matter of time.”

He slipped his free hand down toward her thighs and lightly rubbed the inside of one of them, as though in response to her comment about scratchiness. Elizabeth whimpered.

“That is not fair, you know how wet I still am -”

“I’m making up for time wasted.”

“I’ll say,” she said gingerly.

“So much for morbidly cool, eh?”

“Shall you fixate on that for the rest of our lives?”

“Perhaps. It did hit rather close to home.”

“How so?” she asked, snuggling closer.

“I have always been adept at ignoring certain inclinations,” he said, adjusting himself for her comfort.

“So why take offence to it now?”

“I had assumed everyone did something of the sort.”

“Good God, no-”

“Why not-”

“Because,” she said imperiously, though she did not have a ready answer. “Because I would have gone mad if I had tried and I had a very large, very empty bedroom - does that satisfy your curiosity?”

James paused.

“...ah,” he said. “That’s not what I meant, but. Well. That much is understood.”

“Is it? Do be honest. I can demonstrate, if you like, if you require it,” she said, innocently widening her eyes.

“Oh, no. No, no, no-”

“No? Absolutely certain?”

“I was thinking of going between your thighs next, let us not grow hasty-”

That knocked the wind right out of her.

“Oh-” she said wretchedly.

“I was not always this way,” he said, curiously defensive for a man who had just brought her to shuddering ecstasy. “I grew disgusted with myself-”

“How could you do that, when you did such lovely stuff with your Lettie? That should have made you feel proud of yourself-”

“Well, you see, that was with Lettie- and for Lettie, at that-”

“I don’t follow.”

“It was one thing when it was one woman- quite another when- oh, God, never mind-”

“I can’t never mind, you have to tell me.”

“I was sixteen, seventeen, on double pay and already a drunk. What do you think I did ashore?”

“James,” she said, exasperated. “If not for the complications - of which you’ve spent half the night informing me - and the certainty of social ruin, girls wouldn’t behave any differently. You can surely remember me at that age - trying to spend as much time as I possibly could with Will, and - well, with you, you may recall.”

“Would you have been sitting at the gambling table with a bottle in your hand and a girl in your lap, with her hand in your trousers?” he asked, in a very flat voice.

“Oh,” said Elizabeth, with an involuntary shiver. “Hell yes.”

“...ah,” said James. “Poor example-”

“You must face it, James, you are no less a degenerate than the rest of us,” she said, sounding bored, but really thinking about how much she’d have liked to have sat in James’ lap in Tortuga with her hand in his trousers - how unfortunate he could not handle a bottle.

“No.” he said, “I’m probably worse-”

“Good. You are a pirate, and you are my consort, besides - I require worse.”

He closed his eyes in a mixture of resignation and amusement, pushing his hair back with one hand.

“Pity I can’t rely on the scar any longer,” he mused. “It was such a petty thing, but it had its uses for being worse.”

She kissed him on the temple, and, watching his face, and going slowly for his comfort, slid her hand down the front of his trousers again.

“...ah,” he said, opening his eyes. “There you are.”

They finished opening rather wider than usual.

“And there you are.”

“That’s… all right, give me a moment to think this through-”

“May I help you think?” asked Elizabeth, the moisture from sucking on her lower lip glistening in the low candlelight when she parted her lips and continued to stroke him.

“Do you want me between your thighs or not-”

“Of course I do-”

“I- oh God, Elizabeth-”

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“We don’t have to-” she said hastily, upon seeing him upset.

“What- oh, no, no, darling, it’s-“

He grit his teeth.

She laid her hand on his waist, to be safe, and slid off his lap and to the side of him.

“...I think I’m making a bit of a mess.”

“No, no, you can-”

He reached for her hand and, after a couple of awkward groping tries, laid it on the partially open front flap of his trousers again. She smiled ruefully and slipped her hand inside.

“Thank you, James, but I’m afraid that’s not what I meant. You can say what you like about forceful emissions, but at least you do that all at once and have it done with.”

“-ah. I'd noticed, without thinking of it.” His voice was hoarse.

“James, are you all right?”

“Mmm. Yes, I'm just a bit- compromised-”

“Do you mean this?” she asked with a squeeze.

“YES, THAT-”

She smiled, taking his hand as though to hold it, and guiding it instead to the state of her thighs.

“So we are even.”

“You poor creature. I thought I had relieved that.”

“Hardly at all.”

“Mm. Suppose I’ll have to try harder-“

“Or perhaps…”

Elizabeth bit her lip, glancing down at her hand, and then met his eyes with a growing smile. James leaned up on one elbow and returned the grin.

“You’re thinking of something.”

“I think you know what I’m thinking of,” she whispered.

James very nearly made a joke about what they could name the resulting child, but if she felt safe with the idea…

What was a child but something else to fight for?

“Are you certain?”

“Don’t you want to?” she asked, touching his face. “The timing is just too perfect- you are ready, I am ready… and I want you, and you want me…”

She smiled distantly, her mind on something else.

“...yes?” James asked.

“Nothing,” she said, looking into his eyes again abruptly. “As I said. We’re both - ready, and willing, and wanting-”

“If you’re not ready,” he said, putting his hand on her thigh, “I won’t hold it against you.”

“I am,” she said, with a short laugh, looking down at his hand and rubbing it. “It’s just…. I was ready to do this with someone else. I don’t think about him as much as I used to, but he’s here on this ship now - right now. While I’ve been in your arms. I forgot him. I forgot he was there.”

“... right.”

James bit the inside of his cheek.

“I can't grudge you that-”

“I don’t know how I could have done that-”

“I would hope it is because you love me,” James said softly.

She looked at him, startled into silence. Her eyes were very bright.

“....I think it is,” she said, squeezing his hand. She wiped at her face, suddenly.

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her toward him and put his arms around her shoulders protectively.

“Oh, I ruined the moment-” she groaned, and laughed tearily.

“Possibly for the best. Imagine if I had gotten you with child.”

“I don’t know if I mind the thought of it. Children - with you,” she admitted in a small voice, with a sheepish laugh.

“...I certainly don’t,” said James. “For a moment, I was nearly… looking forward to it.”

“But I truly, truly think…. We should terrorize the seas first.”

“For the greater good, of course-“

“Oh, I think not,” said Elizabeth, sidling up closer to him, and resting her hand on his thigh again. “For our reputations. For each other. And because it’s fun.”

“...and the greater good-“

“I shall leave that to you,” she said, kissing him. James allowed himself to fall back against the bed and take her with him, perhaps a bit physically unsatisfied but personally content.

“I will do my best to fulfill it, then-“

“So, James,” she said, a little muffled.

“Hm?”

“What was the - other thing you were suggesting -”

“Mm. I had a few thoughts.”

“It’s so late that by now, it’s most likely early,” said Elizabeth, with something that could only be called a giggle. She nuzzled his throat. “Tell me while we still have a chance to make something of the night…”

“I could have a go between your legs, though I don’t know what you’d derive from that,” he admitted.

“What would you derive from it?”

“...I don't know. I've never done it, it was always more of a… two-man sort of business-”

“I don’t mind being that for you,” said Elizabeth, more than a hint of mischief in her smile.

“You’re missing a rather vital point of friction,” James teased.

“Touch me then,” she murmured, kissing his bearded chin and moving her lips along his jaw, running her hand up his thigh and gently squeezing. “Let’s not be wasteful.”

He ran his hand down her back and around the curve of her hips and her rear.

“Like this…?”

“I thought more that - while you are having your go - if perhaps I am not being satisfied…” Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder, far enough back to look at him and smile.

He thought this over.

“Oh- oh, no, I don't think the position would work for that, love-”

She looked briefly disappointed, but curiosity won out.

“What is the position?”

“Front to front-”

“Oh, I thought it was - nevermind-”

“You thought- oh, good lord, Elizabeth, I would be afraid of accidentally-“

“Don’t want a little risk?” she asked, rubbing him with her hand.

“Do you? It’s not… the most comfortable-“

“I think you could make me comfortable,” said Elizabeth softly.

“We don't- you need grease of some kind for-”

He cut himself off, mortified, and covered his eyes for a moment before pushing that same hand back through his hair, exhaling hard.

“We don’t have to do that one,” said Elizabeth, the bluntness of her tone momentarily breaking the soft intimate atmosphere they had built to at present; and, surprising herself with that, she laughed, further breaking up the mood.

“Oh, thank God-”

“Doesn’t appeal to you?”

“Not particularly.”

“I could…. Get on top of you…”

His eyes widened.

“That's… dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” asked Elizabeth, eyes widening in mystified delight. “How?”

“Again, the risk of an accidental entry-”

“James, everything fun is a risk-” she pleaded.

“You could take me into your mouth-”

Her mouth opened.

“That is to say, if you wanted to-” James said, too quickly.

“James! You are distracting me - of course I want to, but -”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to do something where we….both…. You know.”

“We’re a little low on options now, sweetheart.”

He touched her cheek.

“Let’s do what we did in Tortuga,” she argued.

“Which part-”

“On the beach, after the storm,” she said, touching his thighs encouragingly.

“Oh- ah. Was that- did you enjoy yourself that much?”

“Ohh, James,” she said- biting her lip in remembered delight. “You really don’t know, do you? That was - my first time, I suppose, in the most liberal sense - Will had never… He wanted things to be very proper, I think. I was already quite fallen - breaking off the engagement with you, being sullied by Barbossa - and spending all of my time with Will teaching me to use a sword, I never saw another invitation from the moment Will and I became engaged. But he was so stubborn. I think he had something to prove. We didn’t…. There was kissing, but it was all standing up. Leaning against a wall, at most… He didn’t want me to touch him. Well, let me correct that - I am certain he wanted me to, as he wanted to touch me. But he wouldn’t let me.”

It was an unexpectedly sad, if distantly sad, burst of speech, and Elizabeth had to take a moment to return to the topic at hand. But she did, with a mischievous smile, pulling James’ hands to her breasts again, as though to relive the moment.

“It was… the first time I had ever been touched here. The first time I had ever felt a man stirring, or at least been sitting on him. The first time… Oh, James, the first time I ever knew pleasure outside of what I had taught myself-”

“Oh, thank God,” James blurted.

Elizabeth could not contextualize this response.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“I didn’t realize- I was mostly just- pleased to have you.”

“James, you had your mouth all over me,” she said, flushing as she realized what she’d said. “- of course I enjoyed it.”

“Enough to recall-”

“I recall it often,” she said, with reverence. “It was such a beautiful night.”

“Oh-“

James moved his hands up from her breasts to her face again, beaming and a little ashamed of it.

“Yes, James?” she asked, smiling.

“I… I am glad to have pleased you,” he said, grinning a little helplessly.

“Mm,” she laughed. “Can we do it again?”

“Yes- oh God, we're going to have to wash after this, aren't we-”

“We can just fill a basin and wipe down with towels, it doesn’t have to be complicated-”

“I know that-”

He pulled her down and kissed her.

Elizabeth kissed him back eagerly, sliding into his lap. Though in Tortuga, they had both been fully-clothed, and it was only her jumps and her shirt he had removed from her - this was different, and she broke the kiss with an abrupt, loud noise.

“Elizabeth?”

He pushed himself up in alarm.

Elizabeth pressed her hand sheepishly over her mouth, barely situated in his lap. She dragged her eyes agonizingly to his and took a moment to pull her hand away, resting it on his shoulder, and whispered, “...that’s wonderful. Sorry, James.”

“What was that-”

“What was what?”

“You cried out-”

She felt her face grow hot. “Because it’s-” She grit her teeth. “- Can’t you tell?”

“I wasn't certain. I feared I had hurt you-”

Elizabeth groaned as much in exasperation as from physical sensation and pressed her face against his shoulder to prevent herself from rolling her eyes.

“-or done something wrongly-”

“James.”

“Yes?”

“God help me, you are so dumb.”

“You stopped, and I feared-”

“I am… trying to get my bearings,” she said, privately hoping that she could stay quiet this time - not merely because she feared being overheard, when Will was on board, but because she did not want him to stop and check her for injury every time she made a sound.

There was a better way to prevent his fretting over every detail, and she implemented it as she might a defensive maneuver - simply began kissing his throat and gently gliding her fingers through his hair to pull his head back to give her better room to do so, before she began to move against him once more. She could still not help but whimper, but he couldn’t possibly mistake it for discomfort when it was his name she was whimpering, while clinging to his impossibly broad shoulders.

“Lisbet- how's this-”

“Oh, darling, lovely-” Somehow the nickname provoked shyness from her, in spite of the circumstances. Elizabeth pulled her head back enough to look at him, but only barely, and she smiled with an obvious self-consciousness.

“James - touch me-”

“Like this-”

He slipped it downward, between them.

“Oh God-” she moaned.

“Ah, there we are,” he teased. “Good girl-”

Elizabeth shut-up kissed him, rocking in his lap perhaps just enough to make the cot squeak at them. James pushed his free hand back through her hair and gripped at the nape of her neck, forcing the kiss deeper.

“Call me - call me Lisbet again-”

“If you want to be Lisbet in bed,” he said as he dragged the kiss down to the edge of her jaw, “I shall never call you anything else-”

“No one else has - ever called me that-” she managed, though she could no longer catch her breath. She clumsily tried to kiss him.

“You were never theirs as you are mine,” James retorted, meeting her mouth in a rough kiss and then refocusing his oral attentions on her breasts. Elizabeth threaded her fingers tightly through his hair, more tightly than intended or realized. She did her best to keep the volume down, but it was difficult - she was not accustomed to inhibiting herself, and her natural inclination was to cry out his name - over and over. She pressed her lips to the top of his head, first in a sincere kiss, and then to keep her voice smothered.

It was indeed a dangerous place to be - more than once James forcibly gripped her hips or her ass to slow her movements, lest he enter her - but the need for caution had its uses beyond the practical. It was an unnecessarily lengthy period of time before they finished, melting into the sheets in each other’s arms, incapable, momentarily, of speech, and filthy, and trembling, and besotted with each other.

Elizabeth rubbed his stiff shoulders with one hand as she clung to him, unwilling to unwind herself from him just yet. James curved one hand back to entwine his fingers with hers and squeezed gently.

“...how are you managing?” he asked, in a quiet voice.

The response she murmured sounded delicate in tone, but the precise language used, about precisely what manner of woman she was becoming under his tutelage, was not.

“That, historically, has not been enough to dissuade me.” James pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“We are a smart match again,” said Elizabeth with a self-satisfied yawn. “Former commodore turned pirate, former governor’s daughter turned --- pirate.”

She smiled against his chest.

“Oh, don't go on about that. Everyone will think I’m social climbing again,” James laughed.

“That’s what my maid said the night you proposed. A smart match.”

“Do you know what the rest of the garrison said the day before?”

“Oh, tell me.”

“‘Her? Good luck, Jamie, you’re going to need it.’”

Elizabeth laughed ungraciously.

“I doubt many of them are surprised by your latter fortunes,” he said as he closed his eyes again and crossed his arms over her back.

“It turns out, James, that you are even better a pirate-hunter than your reputation stated. You got me in the end, didn’t you?”

“Good heavens- I suppose, if you want to think of it that way-”

“You bagged the pirate king. Good job! And with such - “ yawn; “ - vigor, James, too…”

“Of course. I've a reputation to uphold, you know-”

“That’ll- show her…” Elizabeth murmured. “Heard you made her scream, Commodore.”

“A great deal of begging. I shan’t share the finer details in polite company.”

Elizabeth giggled into his chest.

“She’s a lucky woman, to tell you the truth.”

This broke the mood, though in the gentlest of ways. James looked pensively down at her for a long moment, with a faint, pleased smile.

“Do you suppose she is?”

Elizabeth still half-slept, responding without waking.

“What pirate… or woman… ever entered better custody? And though she evaded capture for so long, now there is nowhere else she would rather be, not in all the world…”

“You flatter me.”

“Mm, what a comfortable prison… So broad and strong.”

“I wish that I could have presented more impressively to you to begin with.”

“Didn’t matter,” she yawned. “Loved Will.”

“Mmph. I meant now.”

“You said, ‘begin with’.”

“After defecting, then.”

“Oh.” She smirked, slowly. “Didn’t matter… already loved you.”

“Ah. At least one of us is satisfied,” he said, relaxing and closing his eyes.

Hers, on the other hand, finally opened, blinking and adjusting to the dark; she hadn’t realized all but one of their candles had blown out. She poked him crankily in the thigh.

“Which one of us do you mean isn’t?”

“Oh, you seem quite pleased-”

“So do you, Captain.”

“In one way, at least. I'll settle quite happily for that.”

“What now,” she sighed, resignedly dragging herself up to sitting, realizing as she did so both how exhausted she was, and how sticky.

“Lie back down, it's nothing important.”

“We’re soiled,” she said amusedly.

“Oh, God.”

“It’s all right, love, it happens,” she said, gently teasing him. “It’s just as well for I’d be disappointed if we were clean.”

“Have you anything to clean with?”

“There may be a pitcher of water in here,” she said, a little unconcernedly looking about. “Let me…. Yes, I think it’s still there.”

“I would offer to clean you,” he said, with a yawn, “but I fear restarting the entire process…”

Elizabeth smiled back at him in the dark of the cabin, listening comfortably to the creaking and groaning of the ship - the waves beyond them - as she took up their last candle and made it to the pitcher. To save him from temptation, she took care of herself before bringing a fresh cloth and the water back to him.

“I’ll clean you,” she said generously. “I have no fear of anything.”

“I do,” said James, but he lay back with an unusually trusting gesture anyway.

She was probably less thorough than he would have tried to be, but the water was only so clean anyway; she did not see the point, and she wanted to sleep.

“When do you want me to set the phone alarm for,” said Elizabeth after she had finished and unceremoniously tossed another dry cloth at him to pat down with.

“When are we expected to make landing?”

He was visibly trying to pull away from the soiled patch on the sheets.

“I don’t know or care. After I’ve slept, I hope.”

“Have I exhausted you?”

“Thoroughly.”

Elizabeth slid into the bed, not caring about the state of it and rolling immediately onto her side. James leaned in to kiss her shoulder and put an arm around her, and she responded warmly, pressing her back against him snugly and embracing his arm with a sigh.

“You know,” James murmured, “even this- this is more than I ever hoped for.”

“You wanted to marry me, James,” she argued sleepily.

“I didn't think on this at all. It seemed too intimate…”

“It would have - “ She suppressed another yawn. “- happened eventually anyway-”

“To feel the warmth of your body against mine-”

“Mm.”

“I'm happier than I think I have ever been.”

“I’m glad I brought you off, too,” she said, patting his hand.

“Elizabeth- that's not what I meant, I would have been quite content without-”

“I know, my love.” Elizabeth laced her fingers with his and pulled his arm tightly around herself, tucking his hand against her breast as she settled in contentedly with a little wiggle. “But it was… mm… lovely just the same...”

The chances were very good that the conversation did not end there - not on his part, anyway - but Elizabeth closed her eyes, and soon heard not a word of it.

#pl: the black pearl #jackquest 1748 #potcsuggestions #long post #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #norribeth

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

Text

Pantano River: Elizabeth and James

The morning after Elizabeth has chosen to remain with James, making their relationship official. He makes a request about their life together.

Elizabeth Swann had only partially slid into consciousness when she heard the steady, calming heartbeat beneath her ear - and then, after turning her head to nuzzle a bit, the completely different heartbeat a few inches over, in a pouch on the inside of that man’s jacket. This did not quite startle her awake, but it brought her nastily further to that point.

She felt exhausted, too much to open her eyes, too much to face the day just yet; the reason for that had not yet sunk in, but Elizabeth was too unfamiliar with generalized anxiety to think there was not a reason.

She did, however, had the presence of mind to remember James had said something about not wanting his hair in his eyes when he woke up, and so, even as she was trying to curl up and go back to sleep, her hand crept blindly up to his face, and tenderly brushed the hair back from his forehead.

James flinched in his sleep. He blinked in the sunlight a few times; it centered him wonderfully quickly, and he pushed up on one elbow to try and get a better look at her.

She was still trying to sleep.

“Sorry- sorry,” he began.

“Hm?” she went, slightly grumpy, unwilling to open her eyes.

“It’s all right- lay down again, I didn’t realize-”

“Where is your arm.”

“It’s here-”

He moved it over her back and held her against him affectionately, closing his eyes again.

“Good,” she said, threateningly, before sinking against him in greater relaxation and dozing off once more.

***

Elizabeth woke a little while later in a rush of panic that she had slept in, and a smug thrill of relief when she saw that most of the rest of the camp was not awake yet either. Captain Barbossa was up, however, when she went to join the cook and stand around and make chit-chat about how the journey ahead would be. Then she took her porridge and, it did not go unnoticed by a single man standing around, another porridge, and headed back into the foliage just as the majority were waking.

James was sitting on the edge of the hammock and stretching when Elizabeth arrived, her hair still down. It looked more lank than usual, though that might have been her general disgruntlement.

“Breakfast,” she said shortly.

“Ah, yes,” he said, holding a hand out to receive it. “Thank you.”

James ate a spoonful without complaint- he was all to used to this kind of flavorless fare- and watched her for a moment with the barest hint of a smile.

“How did you sleep?”

“I feel as though I didn’t.”

“Mm. I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything with which I can assist you?”

“If there is, believe me, you’ll hear of it,” said Elizabeth darkly. “Move over.”

He had to stand up and sit down again to do so, but there was room for them to sit next to one another if they were careful. Elizabeth ate with an expression of utter distaste on her face - in short, as though she were not used to this kind of fare - but she was not so much of a snob that she would complain about it out loud.

“It’s not much, I know,” he said, noting her expression, “but it’s better than ship’s biscuits. I imagine you could pave a road with those.”

“I don’t understand. We are not poor. Why isn’t our food budget higher?”

“It doesn’t keep. A few hard cheeses, some jams, smoked meats- anything else will rot, and pose far worse problems than tastelessness.”

“Spices, though-”

“In porridge?” he said flatly. “On the meats, perhaps.”

“There’s cinnamon,” she pointed out irritably.

“Take it up with Barbossa, then.”

“Perhaps I shall,” she said venomously. “He should know better than anybody the importance of good food in motivating a person…” Elizabeth trailed off and finished her porridge in much the same mood. Then she found her apple juice from the night before and drank the entire bottle in a sitting, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand afterward.

James stared at her.

“I should hope that was nothing too strong-”

“It’s Motts,” she said flatly.

“Ah,” he said. “You might have shared it, then.”

“I’ll have to find you some more of it,” said Elizabeth, with a flash of guilt darting across her face.

“I’ll manage,” he said. “I’ll go looking for it when I’ve finished eating.”

He pushed his hair from his eyes again, but seemed far less irritated by having to do so this time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment. “I just woke up feeling…”

“Rather exhausted, I assume. It’s no trouble, darling-”

“My head is pounding,” she said with a grimace.

“Would you care to borrow my hat? It might allow you a bit more shade.”

She shook her head, watching him finishing up his shoddy meal with an eagle eye, so that the moment he set the dish aside she could claim him.

“Elizabeth-”

The hammock swung wildly from the force of their shared fall, and James began laughing as he pulled her to him for a quick kiss. This was a better greeting than Elizabeth expected, after the vehemence of the bad mood she had been in all morning; but she kissed him back longer than she meant to.

“Good morning,” he said in approval, gazing up at her as they parted the kiss.

She looked a little happier, and completely baffled.

“I’m not sure I earned that,” she said.

“Consider it a gift, then.”

She smiled guilelessly, for the first time that morning. James pushed her hair back, so it fell over only one shoulder, and kissed her again with her face between his hands. He never had gotten around to shaving the night before, so it was a mildly scratchy kiss, but such things were miles away from his thoughts at present. Elizabeth gasped his name, but she kissed him back regardless.

“It’s not too much-?”

“I think this day is going to need a good beginning,” she said upon reflection, a trace of last night’s sadness returning to her.

“Mmf. Well,” he said, “whatever you find proper, I will happily oblige.”

“I don’t suppose it’s going to be anything too wildly different than what we have been doing,” she allowed, with a small smile. “It isn’t as though we have been too demonstrative on deck, is it?”

“Of course not. Terrible for morale.”

“Not for mine,” she groused.

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but we can’t have the king appearing to care more for her dog than her people.”

He grinned. It was shockingly playful, for him anyway.

“You have a deeply naive perception of what demonstrative looks like from me.”

“I haven’t much experience with it,” James countered. “You shall have to show me, in the future.”

Elizabeth lit up, but it did not last. Her face clouded quickly, and her eye wandered towards the distance - she could see others through the trees, but James had set himself up So As Not To Be Disturbed - probably by herself, in retrospect, as well as anybody else. She had no idea where Will was, and did not expect him to come looking for her; he probably knew where he would find her. She doubted he wanted to see it.

“Not the immediate future,” she said quietly.

James’s hand found hers and squeezed gently.

“Think nothing of it.”

“I hate to put you through all of this.”

“Knowing where I stand is comfort enough,” he said.

“A meagre comfort.”

“I shall manage,” James said dryly. “You’re going to need me, I suspect.”

“God, I think I need you right now-”

“Ah,” he said, sitting up a bit. “Any requests?”

“Yeah,” she said with a little sniff. “Make everyone else go away.”

“There isn’t much to be done in a hammock, I’m afraid. That probably accounts for a good part of the Navy’s reputation for buggery, if I may be vulgar with you for a moment.”

“Are you hinting at something, Captain Norrington?”

“Not outdoors, I’m not.”

Elizabeth smothered an immature giggle on the back of her hand.

“And it would be difficult, I assume, to get much leverage with my mouth with you lying on your back here- to say nothing of the trouble I’ve apparently caused you.”

“What trouble is that, Captain?” she asked, perhaps a tad flirtatiously.

“Last night, before everything went sideways- you said it was uncomfortable with a beard in the way,” he said, edging himself up further so they could face one another.

She lifted her eyebrows, willing her face to give as little away as possible, but unable to fully help herself. Her attempts to slow her breathing did not help either.

“Ah.”

“I would hate to cause you any difficulty, particularly in such a delicate position-”

“Well, I would - I mean I wouldn’t mind… I haven’t minded,” she said, though it was too early and they were too exposed to even consider what she was considering. “Your beard may be a bit rough, but your lips are soft…”

“We can hardly do anything of that nature here and now regardless,” he reminded her, “so you will simply have to decide where you stand on the matter and inform me before the next opportunity.”

“James,” she pleaded, “I don’t really have a preference, it is entirely up to you.”

“And I’m telling you that I would rather have you decide these things,” he said, very seriously. “You are my superior, after all-”

She cupped his cheek then, considering it. She was a little uncomfortable making decisions like this; it was strange, that she should be so much more comfortable making choices where the outcomes were dangerous than to simply tell her lover how to wear his beard, but it seemed controlling somehow.

“...I want you to shave it,” she decided, without a trace of her inner hesitation, nor even her disappointment. If he overcame his memories of Tortuga, well, a beard could be regrown. “Perhaps not tonight. Tomorrow. I don’t want it to somehow seem like a reaction to Will’s being here-”

He scoffed, but there was a wisp of laughter in it.

“Very well. Thank you.”

“Thank me later,” she said brusquely, “when you’ve done it and I’ve let you rest your head in my lap a while - “

“Noted,” he said dryly.

“You could act more grateful,” she said with disdain.

“Believe me, I am,” he said. “I am at far greater ease with you controlling that sort of thing than I.”

“Mm, come on and show it then.”

He kissed her, in what was actually a succession of very small, almost nibbling kisses that moved down her neck as he spoke.

“I’m not speaking lightly, Elizabeth-”

Elizabeth gasped again. It was, this time, something between an exhale in shock and a different sound altogether.

“I didn’t mean! Oh, but James- don’t stop-” she whispered, shutting her eyes tightly.

“I mean that I wish to be yours- to do with as you wish-”

“You are mine,” she reminded him, with another little gasp. She was gripping his shoulders now, and more tightly than she realized. “And I do use you however I wish - within some parameters - for instance, not ordering you to your knees right now-”

“Elizabeth-”

He could only go so far down her neck and had to resort to the other side.

“I don’t think you understand-”

“I understand that I want you and cannot have you,” she said peevishly. “If you knew how -”

“Hm?”

“ - wet I am, God, James-” she complained under her breath.

He laughed despite himself.

“You packed a change, I presume-”

“When am I going to find the time to change-”

“I shall hold up a blanket for you to dress behind,” he deadpanned. “Elizabeth, you have not let me finish-”

“Oh, fine, come out with it then-”

“I like it when you decide how you want me,” he murmured against her collarbone. “I prefer it that way-”

“All right,” she laughed, as though he were tickling her. “So you’ve said-”

“I find it-”

He struggled for the right word, pausing mid-kiss.

“...satisfying,” he said. “Fulfilling. I would have you make greater use of me.”

“Yeah, so would I, if you hadn’t left your quondam on the Dutchman,” she reminded him with a snort of laughter.

“I don't mean-”

He made a bitter, frustrated sound.

“Do you not understand me at all?”

“Yeah,” she said, after a pause, a small frown coming into her face. “You said you like me telling you how to dress and wear your hair. Aren’t I doing that? We talked about it already-”

James flushed and grit his teeth, struggling to explain what seemed obvious to him in theory but was difficult to put into words.

“...I would have you be firmer about it,” he said, nearly spitting it, as though his jaw did not want to cooperate with his admission of this fact. “I would have you take a greater interest in my daily schedule-”

Understanding came into Elizabeth’s face - along with a decidedly maidenly flush of color.

“...ah,” she said evenly. “You don’t want me to tell you my preferences. You want me to tell you what to do.”

“Yes-” James blurted. “That's what I've been trying to tell you-“

“That’s not - we weren’t already doing that? With the dog bit-”

“No- you always laughed and said that in truth you didn't care, that it was for show alone-”

She stroked his hair absentmindedly, leaning back in the hammock and pulling him with her while she thought it over.

“I’m not fully certain I comprehend this plan.”

In truth, she thought it a terrible idea - James knew more about this lifestyle than she did; she generally looked to him to explain things to her - and suspected he was having a hard time shaking off the rigors and rules of the Royal Navy.

“I don't mean to impose,” he said, “and I'm not asking to be demeaned-”

“I don’t know what you are asking for.”

“-the blindfolding,” he said. “The blindfolding was… appreciated-”

“Is that not demeaning?” she asked, with a shocked laugh.

“No,” he said. “It was- trust. It was trust.”

“Oh my God, James, I do not deserve you-”

Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed him on the top of the head, still completely taken aback.

“I hope I have not upset you-”

“No,” she said, a little reluctant to disclose her inadequacy, “it’s more that I’m afraid to disappoint you.”

“It's not a condition, if that's your concern-”

“It’s not. I want to continue to be…” She struggled to say it, battling both her pride and the insecurity that admitting to this would disappoint him in and of itself. “It’s just that you like me so much, it seems like - I don’t want to ruin it.”

“I don't think- I wouldn't worry about it-”

“James, I am not opposed to bossing you around,” she said with a short laugh. “But you know rather a lot more than I do about sailing.”

“Then call upon me for it as an example of my service to you, then-”

“Ah,” she said, her expression brightening.

“I understand that you do not wish to overstep-“

“I just want to be what you want me to be,” she said softly, surprised to realize how sad she sounded, or how true it was.

He did his best to position himself to look up at her again.

“Is it so much,” he asked softly, “to wish to exist at your command?”

She touched his lips gently. “Is that your wish?”

He nodded, kissing that fingertip without breaking eye contact.

“You know, I think my father wanted to spare you this fate,” she said with a ghost of a smile.

“He must have known of its inevitability,” James countered.

“I hope he would approve,” she said, her hands settling in his hair again.

“...you know he was encouraging of our eventual- well, I suppose he would find this close enough.”

“He certainly did not expect me to become a pirate,” she said quietly. “Where we’ve ended up is very like a marriage.”

“I suppose we’ll focus on that part, then.”

“With me ordering you around,” she said baitingly, although her smile was real.

“It’s a comfort,” said James, as he turned himself to settle beside her. “To surrender control- to you, no less-”

“Mm.”

“Yes?”

He sat up a bit, to look at her better- and a bit warily, at that.

“I’ll tell you if I feel like it,” she said lightly - testing the waters.

“I hope you are not disappointed-”

“With the gem of the Royal Navy?” she asked drily; she knew he would immediately dispute that judgment, even though she had clearly said it without being fully serious, and tapped his mouth to shush him before he started. “I certainly knew you were ill-suited to the independence of piracy, and you have said you preferred being my good boy over being either Beckett’s or your father’s. Disappointment requires some degree of surprise, first of all, and I am not at all surprised.”

“I wish I could be otherwise, for your sake,” James admitted, in a low voice. “I know that that is not a kind of character you find valuable in and of itself.”

“How do you know what kind of character I find valuable?” asked Elizabeth with a quiet snort. “What do you think, that all I care about is a rugged pirate with good sartorial notions and an impressive vocabulary? I could shack up with Barbossa if I wanted that.”

“Oh, no, don’t start- don’t make me envious of Barbossa-”

Elizabeth could not help but start laughing.

“Very well, I exaggerated - Barbossa would not have me, you know-”

“I feared he did every day you were gone,” James said suddenly.

Elizabeth went abruptly silent.

“...I’m sorry,” said James. “That was… ill-considered.”

He looked uncomfortably away from her.

“...He wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” she said with another laugh, this one shaky with nerves. “That was part of the curse - no satisfaction, from food or drink or pleasurable company.”

She thought back, unbidden, on the day he’d cut her palm to free himself from that curse - cut her palm and spared her life, to her faint-hearted surprise.

‘Waste not,’ he’d said.

“I am glad to know that he did not,” James said guardedly.

“Both parties involved are also glad of it,” she said shortly. “He’s… he’s a changed man since he died. You know, more than just being not dead any longer.”

James brought her hand to his mouth in what he hoped was a comforting gesture; he kissed it gently and arranged himself to give her more room again.

“Did I tell you to get off me?”

He stopped in place, startled, and then, understanding, lay his head on her chest again.

“Pardon me.”

“Pardoned,” she said with an airy hand gesture that ended with her fingers sinking into his dark hair again. It had been longer and perhaps fuller the last time she had seen it, but more sun-faded. She had seen his hair before, of course, but she had not realized how handsome he was; she had been too young to note it. Or perhaps a well-maintained queue had simply not been that impressive to her. Nor any young man other than Will Turner. She couldn’t push the thought away; not when Will was here somewhere; but it settled somewhere in her chest uneasily and made breathing hurt. She caressed James’ hair somewhat frantically to calm herself down.

James leaned in contentedly and let her; it was the kind of tender gesture he had not received much of elsewhere, and especially not in the last few years. He bowed his head to urge her onward, and she was so touched by his submission - his trust, he called it - that she felt the tension around her heart begin to dissipate.

“That feels wonderful,” he said, half-muffled by her shoulder. “You don’t need to rush it for my sake- I’m doing well enough.”

“I think I can tell you what to do easy enough,” she said with another short laugh. “But you know what it’s going to look like.”

“A solid basis for your throne is what it will look like-”

“A king and her dog, more like.”

“I never asked to stop being your dog,” said James.

“Yeah, but you don’t like how other people think of it,” she pointed out.

“I’ll manage, thank you-”

“No, I don’t think you will, actually,” she said, with her other hand cupping his chin affectionately. “I think you will be managed, by me.”

James startled.

“...ah,” he said. “Gladly.”

“Too much?” she asked.

“No-”

“Good; I’m not stopping.”

“That’s what I asked of you to begin with-”

“James, I was going to do it anyway.”

“You haven’t been much, of late,” he said, followed by a yawn against her chest.

“Haven’t I?” She honestly could not recall. It seemed to her she had been trying to protect him from the sneers of the other men, but apparently James could manage that. “Consider your vacation over, Captain Norrington.”

“No floggings,” he reminded her.

“Oh, come on. There’s a very lovely silk tassel in my cabin, doubt you would hardly feel it -” she coaxed him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, unamused.

“You are so boring.”

“Need I undress to remind you?” he said. It was almost a challenge.

“Of what- of how breathtaking I find you-”

“I know there are plenty of men who handle being flogged in the Navy by finding reason to enjoy it,” he groused, “but I’m afraid I’ve come out of it with an informed opinion, and I must say: I’m not fond of it.”

“I wish you were just a little more perverse,” said Elizabeth agreeably, “but not about this.” She patted him fondly on the top of the head before resuming her affections.

“Even if I did find a taste for it, I would not have the marks you leave blending in with the ones I was dealt in the Navy,” he said as he settled back down.

“To be honest,” she said, dropping her voice to a sultry whisper, “that is not where I was thinking of striking you…”

“Elizabeth.”

She couldn’t stop laughing, as carefree as a girl. James had learned to live with it by now.

“You may use me as you like, otherwise.”

“Mm, I have plans for that tie, but don’t worry, I never dreamed of hitting you,” she said, her voice still throaty with laughter. “That isn’t the sort of thing I enjoy.”

“Thank heaven for that,” James said, less dryly than intended.

“I do sort of like rendering you helpless,” she admitted, amiable and not particularly trying to persuade him. “Trust, you said? Is that the look in your eyes? It’s very nice.”

“Glad to be of service.” This time, he got the tone right.

Her expressed turned to wonder.

“My God, James, you would think I had insulted you-”

“Never mind. Thank you, I'm sorry-”

“I like your service,” she said peevishly.

“I know,” he said, “and it's a matter of personal comfort to provide it-”

“It’s rather more than merely a comfort to experience-”

“Ah,” he said. “Well. Good to know, then.”

“James, I want to give you the satisfaction you give me,” she said, taking a turn for the serious, and holding him a little more tightly. “I want to make you feel as important and necessary as I feel. If this is what you want- I would do whatever you wanted.”

“Elizabeth-”

He laughed and adjusted his position to lean on her shoulder.

“That's- forget I said anything. It does not matter.”

“Oh, shut up, James, I want to tell you what to do and you’re going to have to learn to live with it - no take backs.” She tucked one of her legs closer against him, as though herding him into a better position on top of her.

“Mmf,” he said. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She kissed the top of his head.

#pl: pantano river #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #potcsuggestions #potc #norribeth

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 5 years

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The backstory event from James and Elizabeth’s youth referenced in this post. It’s not shippy; I wrote it essentially as a bit of practice while trying to get a feel for their prior dynamic and eventually it got folded into potcsuggestions canon.

#ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #format: fic #potcsuggestions

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 6 years

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Chat: James and Elizabeth

Feat: @norringtonsuggestions and @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions

TL;DR: Elizabeth asks after a topic begun in an anonymous ask she sent to tease him during an Honesty Hour game and James sends the most romantic text any woman ever received in the 18th century.

Elizabeth: Pegging is when a woman does with a man what a man might, yes? James: Yes. James: It's what has been alleged about you for some time now. Elizabeth: Have you ever done it? James: No. Elizabeth: Want to try? James: We'll see. I don't know what you would derive from it. Elizabeth: I have gathered you might enjoy it, were it done properly. James: I don't know about that either. Elizabeth: Oh no? James: I don't know. Elizabeth: I mean, I wouldn't force you. But I do think... if it were done properly... with a mind your pleasure.... Elizabeth: And you know how much i love propriety :) Elizabeth: And more sincerely, how much i love your pleasure. James: And what of yours? Elizabeth: You already see to that so beautifully, darling. James: Thank you. Elizabeth: I mean it. Elizabeth: I do enjoy being your king. Elizabeth: But I love being your woman. James: Are you not concerned that we're going to court the resentment of the crew with how much more bathing we get up to by necessity than the rest of them? Elziabeth: James. James. Honestly? That was the best change of subject you had? Elizabeth: You can just say no. James: It's a serious concern. James: We can try, though I'm not sure how. Elizabeth: I just want to dote on you. I want to be the man for a little while. James: I don't believe I should make a very good woman. Elizabeth: Neither do I, darling. Elizabeth: You don't seem to mind. James: Mind what? Elizabeth: What a poor woman yours is. James: Elizabeth, you are not a poor excuse for a woman. Elizabeth: I'm wearing trousers, but no stays, nor even any jumps, commanding a pirate ship or two, and texting my sweetheart about how much I love engaging in unmarried intercourse with him - it would certainly bar me from polite society. James: That does not make you less of a woman in my estimation. Elizabeth: Well, that is because you enjoy all the spoils of my womanhood, no doubt. James: Indeed. Elizabeth: Do you really think so well of me? James: Of course I do. Do you doubt me? Elizabeth: I don't, but I love to hear you say it. James: I shall be sure to tell you more often, then. Elizabeth: Though I am sure you must know you are biased by proximity. Elizabeth: Proximity and pride. James: Pride? James: Elizabeth, I love you as you are, and I daresay I would continue most easily to love you if you were otherwise as well. Elizabeth: And you would be just as proud, because I would be just as yours. James: I don’t know what otherwise means here, precisely, but whatever it might be, it would not alter my feelings. Elizabeth: I feel the same. James: Thank you. Elizabeth: If we'd married after all and I were stuck with some clean-shaven commodore or if a little more time had passed in Tortuga, before Jack had shown up, and I had been saddled with you drunken and filthy - I am certain eventually we would have found our way here. James: I believe you were likely always headed this way. Elizabeth: Mm, I don't know about being the pirate king, but being in your bed? Your hand between my legs? Yes, it seems so. Everywhere I've gone, there you've been too. A little stroke of fate. James: Elizabeth. James: I know that this is a great deal removed from what you have described regarding your friend Amelia and the Spanish girl, but on consideration I must concede that I suppose that in some other lifetime where you were your father's son and not his daughter, my feelings would have progressed the same nonetheless. I do not know if that speaks to any broader leanings, or only confirms that I love you- but I cannot conceive of a world in which I would not. [there is a lull in the texting as Elizabeth holds her phone over her heart for a long moment.] Elizabeth: I hope you will forgive me, Captain Norrington, if I say, once again, that I cannot breathe. Elizabeth: Oh, James. I never imagined things could go so far between us. James: I used to hope, but not for some time. Elizabeth: I want to be everything you've ever hoped for. James: You already are. Elizabeth: This is interfering rather drastically with my current duties. I fear the Pirate King is beaming insipidly at her phone in transports of happiness. James: Her dog extends his deepest apologies. Elizabeth: I wish I could say something as romantic back to you. James: It's all right, don't worry. Elizabeth: I'm not worried. I just want to do what you do to me back to you. James: I'm already rather overwhelmed by you. James: In the best of ways. Elizabeth: I've noticed that. I adore it. James: I suppose I'm grateful. James: I love you. Elizabeth: Can we conclude business early tonight? Elizabeth: I need you in my cabin soon. Pressing matters. James: Of course. James: Your Majesty.

#if you don't think that's the cutest shit get the fuck out of my face #potcsuggestions #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #format: chat #pl: the black pearl #norribeth

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 6 years

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Chat: Girls’ Night

Feat. @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions, @giselletortugasuggestions, @anamariasuggestions, & @angelicasuggestions

TL;DR: The girls of the reluctant Jack Sparrow Rescue Mission join for a night of drinking wine, dragging Jack, and offering advice on each other’s love lives whether it’s been asked after or not.

Come to see Angelica and Anamaria become the hottest it couple of the Caribbean, learn Elizabeth’s true feelings on James Norrington and discover a truly horrifying secret only Giselle can impart...

Elizabeth had never hosted a party. She had been the guest of honor at a few parties her father had thrown for her birthday, and that when she was younger - when she was old enough to host her own parties, her friends had largely moved or married out of Port Royal society. Too proud to ask either James or Giselle for advice this time on how to adapt Port Royal party customs to a quartet of cool pirates, she decided on several basic necessities: food; drink, both alcoholic and otherwise; some kind of rag in case there was a spill; the potential props in order to play games, but kept out of the way so that no one felt obligated; company (so adieu, Captain Norrington, girls only); and, naturally, rules. She was explaining that to the first arrivals on the scene. Elizabeth (to whom it may concern): Teasing is tolerated, bullying is not. If you want to behave like one of the men you can go sit with them if you like. I will be very clear on this point: if anyone wakes in the morning with something written on her head, so help me God, we will find the culprit and we will dunk her." [mood shifting out of Pirate King mode] ...But I think that covers it.[Giselle puts her hand up] Giselle: Can we write elsewhere? Angelica: Can we write on the guys if/when they fall asleep? Ana: I was gonna suggest no writing on people without permission but I’m in if we are writing on the guys. Elizabeth: [pointing at Giselle] Excellent question! No. [pointing at Angelica, then Ana] Hang on a minute. What guys are going to be here? Angelica: Not here, on the rest of the ship. We can sneak out when it gets dark Elizabeth: I dunno if that's really covered by the all-girl-party rules. I was just sort of thinking of establishing ground rules - ground here being my cabin. Outside of it you can do what you like, can't you? Angelica: That sounds fair Angelica: Also I brought wine, if anyone's interested [Giselle gives a thumbs up, already getting into the snacks] Ana: Works for me! And I’ll take a glass. Angelica, pouring wine for Ana: So what do you usually do on a girl's night? Giselle, mouth stuffed full: Not have sex with men. Elizabeth: [poker face] Ana: It was rare we’d ever have one, but I grew up with four older sisters. We would talk shit about the boys around town, do each other’s hair sometimes, drink. Angelica: That sounds lovely Angelica: and not having sex with men can definitely be accomplished Elizabeth: ...yeah, mostly gossip and drink. Discuss - [cough] - discuss anything you're not supposed to be discussing in mixed company. Angelica: it's okay you can say sex life Angelica: how's the former navy man? [Giselle manifests popcorn] [Anamaria chokes on her drink trying not to laugh] [Angelica sips wine] Elizabeth: [turning red] ..... as he is your captain, I don't know if it would be, hm, civil to discuss it- Angelica: how about we all tell each other a secret, to make things fair for poor lizzie? Giselle: Well it's not like we can't hear it Elizabeth: [loudly whispering] GISELLE Ana: Can’t say I’m not disappointed to not hear that gossip, but we don’t all have to talk about anything we’re not comfortable with. This is supposed to be a fun night, no stress. Ana: Or men. Which is like the same thing. Angelica: cheers to that Elizabeth: [takes a big swallow of wine and elects to stay silent] Giselle: Well, in terms of secrets, I'm willing to share some Angelica: Oh? Giselle: [takes a delicate sip of wine] i was once part a group of ladies brought in to entertain some fancy pirate lords Elizabeth: [leaning in from where she's decided to sit] Anyone i know? Ana: [gets comfortable, grinning] Oh God here we go! Angelica: I fear the worst Giselle: i think i'm the only one what can claim to have undone both jack sparrow AND his father Elizabeth: Angelica: That might be the worst sentence I've ever heard, are you okay sweetie? Giselle: a bit itchy sometimes but overall alright Angelica: I can imagine Ana: I have no words. I kind of want to high five you and also forget I ever heard that. Angelica: I second that Ana: Does Jack know?? Giselle: don't think they talk much Giselle: kinda want to see his face when he finds out Ana: That’s exactly what I was thinking Angelica: I brought him up once and jack straight up left Angelica: just walked out Ana: Oh. I’ve only ever heard stories about his father, but never from him... Elizabeth: If it's not too forward - how do you know Jack? Angelica: Let's just say it's his fault that I'm not a nun anymore Ana: He DIDN’T. Of course he did. Elizabeth: [unintentionally melodramatic hand-pressed-to-heart reaction] Angelica: I learned the hard way that Spanish monasteries take chastity very seriously Elizabeth: ... I am so sorry. Ana: I swear to God he ruins everything he comes across. [rolls eyes and takes a drink] Elizabeth: I don't have anything even comparable to that, but he did try to trade my hus- [winces, collects herself] He tried to trade my ex-husband to Davy Jones to free his own soul. And lied to me about it the whole time, letting me think he was doing everything in his power to save the man i loved, who had been cruelly forced into service by Jones. He was just using all of us to get to the heart of Davy Jones, and he didn't care what became of us along the way. Ana: I...I’m so sorry you were treated that way. He can be a complete bastard. Sometimes he even takes pride in it...but I can’t imagine he’s proud of all that. That doesn’t make what he did any better though. Giselle: ………we should leave him to rot Ana: I sometimes wonder why we don’t. He owes me a debt, at least, is what I say my reason is for going after him. Elizabeth: ...Beckett's got warrants for our - I mean mine, Will's and James' - executions... all because we helped Jack out of his own. Elizabeth: I don't know, I guess if he just dies somewhere it's like it was all for nothing. Angelica: And I thought he fucked my life up Angelica: Are you guys okay? Elizabeth: I'm the Pirate King. I'm fine. [hesitates and chews on her lower lip] ... I don't know about James so much. Angelica: Well he's got the bastard himself pursuing him despite everything Angelica: Can't be much fun Angelica: why are we even talking about him, I thought this was girl's night?Angelica: Can't we shift the conversation to something more uplifting Elizabeth: I mean, it's certainly an icebreaker - he's the one thing we all have in common. Ana: Can you imagine how terrified he’s going to be when he comes back to find we’re all friends? Angelica: God you're right about that Angelica: Must be his worst nightmare Ana: We have to scare the SHIT out of him! Angelica: Honestly the only thing that he'd find worse than this would be if we were dating or something Angelica: So I think we're good to go Ana: [winks] Line up, I’ve got two secret admirers already. Elizabeth: [turns extremely red at that one and crams pretzels into her mouth] Angelica: That you do, any updates on that by the way? Ana: No. One’s a naval officer but it’s not James obviously so who even knows. And the other one’s part of the crew, but God knows who it is. Angelica: Yeah I have no clue to be honest Angelica: What do the rest of you think? Elizabeth: [shrugs broadly] As you put it, Anamaria, I've never had a secret admirer, and I don't know the first thing about them. Ana: Alright. But you or James probably know the crew better than I do, so if you ever have a theory let me know. Angelica: This is like a mystery novel Elizabeth: The real mystery is how any of these men learned how to write poetically. Angelica: How do we know if it's a man? Angelica: I mean the naval officer, obviously Giselle: [defensively] nehemiah's a poet! what with his hashtags and quips Elizabeth: [patting her on the arm] Yes, but he's not writing Anamaria, because he's taken. Giselle: [glances between anamaria and angelica, stuffing popcorn in her mouth - SHE HAS THEORIES] Angelica: [sips wine] I'm just saying Ana: I mean it’s either a guy or one of us, if they’re on the crew. Or they could be lying. Angelica: If it's jack I'm going to throw myself in the sea Ana: Pfffft he would have his work cut out for him if he tried. And it doesn’t seem to be his ghost messages so I think I’m in the clear Angelica: Oh that's right he does That Giselle: you should look for hidden messages Giselle: like them emoji Elizabeth: Like, the emojis being clues to the identity of the sender? Giselle: yes! we're all pirates, we're supposed to do hidden clues and such Angelica: idk guys this doesn't look like it could lead to anything Angelica: pretty normal looking if you ask me Giselle: it's a star Giselle: stars shine bright in the night Giselle: so do…… lighthouses!! it's a lighthouse keeper!!! Elizabeth: [wanting to preserve Giselle's feelings but not on board with this] I think it might just be an emoji they think is very nice. Elizabeth: Maybe you should ask Nehemiah! He knows, I'm sure, lots about emojis. Angelica: do we know any lighthouse keepers? Angelica: It sounds like a Solid theory to me Ana: I’m gonna agree with Elizabeth on this one Elizabeth: If they haven't conveyed their identity yet, I'm sure they have a good reason. Angelica: They might be scared or something idk Elizabeth: When my - it took Will a long time to tell me he loved me. He had to be sure how I felt about him. There was... It doesn't matter anymore. Nevermind. Angelica: Aw hun, you don't have to think about that Angelica: Do you want some wine? Elizabeth: Thanks, but I should probably watch how much I drink. Angelica: Fair enough, that means it's more for me Elizabeth: ...anyway. They'll tell you when they're ready, I know it. Angelica: Let's hope they do Elizabeth: They just want to be sure she'll accept them for who they are. Angelica: Oh yes I'm sure Angelica: If you got to choose, who would you want them to be, ana? Ana: I wouldn’t even know, I was always working with family, or just working so much I hardly cared. Never really thought about love. Ana: My dad left my mom when I was really young so I guess I just never thought it was worth enough to go looking for love. I haven’t been unhappy without romance. [shrugs] Angelica: I understand that, though in my experience that's just something that men do Elizabeth: [chatting w giselle about james' clothes lol] Angelica: No offense to you two, liz, Giselle Angelica: I'm sure your boys are fine Elizabeth: ...yeah, I'm usually the guilty party. Angelica: Oh really? Elizabeth: .... Exited an engagement to get engaged to someone else. Annulled that marriage to get with someone else again. [beat] ...Kissed Jack during the second engagement. But it was to kill him, so, you know.[avoiding everyone's eyes] And.... even in a good place, I still think about other people. It's. [huff] It's confusing. Angelica: Maybe you're just not meant for monogamy? I've met plenty of people who made alternatives work Elizabeth: [mumbling] I don't think that's it. Giselle: i feel like it's okay to kiss someone outside your engagement if it means jack sparrow dies Angelica: Oh I'm totally with you on that one Giselle: but aside from that, i'm happy with how slow things are going with nehemiah - ain't never met anyone what didn't want to get my knickers off as quick as they could Angelica: But from what I can tell, that's not always the case is it? Ana: One of my older sisters used to say she was “window shopping”—she didn’t feel bad about looking at attractive men as long as she didn’t “make a purchase” while she was with another. Angelica: That's quite the philosophy, and completely understandable Elizabeth: .....Or attractive women. Angelica: Oh cheers to that Angelica: Being attracted to women is 90% of my life honestly Elizabeth: [peeping up at her in relief, and also... more relief] So that's - that's completely normal? Angelica: I mean if you ask me, it totally is Angelica: Maybe you should ask your man if he's up for a threesome? That way you could get in touch with some ladies Elizabeth: [COLORING] That's not really- nevermind. Angelica: It’s not for everyone, I get that Ana: [lets out a breath] I hadn’t even noticed that I found women attractive until someone thought to ask. I’m glad I’m not the only one. Giselle: i mean, threesomes are alright, i ain't never had a problem being with the ladies, but you had to share the money after… Angelica: Thought threesomes would cost extra? Giselle: they do Giselle: they do Giselle: i just don't like sharing my money Angelica: fair enough Elizabeth: [laughs out loud] Ana: [chuckling] I mean, you earned it, I get that. Angelica: [nodding in agreement] You worked hard Elizabeth: ...Giselle, have you ever been in love? Before Nehemiah, I mean. Giselle: love's a bit of a fool's game in my old line of work, y'know? they start askin for free what you can charge ten shillins for Elizabeth: What'd you charge Jack? Angelica: I could have charged him?? Giselle: [huffs quite loudly and mutters into her wine] not enough considerin Ana: If I’d charged him he probably would’ve stolen it back anyway. Angelica: That's true Angelica: He's tricky like that Angelica: did he leave anything behind when he passed away btw? Anamaria: Whatever, I was using him for sex right back, would’ve evened out if he didn’t take my boat Elizabeth: I don't know how, but I heard Tia Dalma has what's left of him. Ana: Did someone loot the body? Angelica: Isn't she the swamp witch? Feels a little weird to leave a dead body with her Elizabeth: .... was it. Was it any good? Ana: ...I don’t like to talk about it because I hate admitting that it was. He doesn’t need to know that. Elizabeth: [presses her hands over her mouth and lets out a little squeal] I want to know about it though! Elizabeth: I'm the only woman here who hasn't- you know. Angelica: [nodding] I'm not saying it was worth it but all I'm saying is that his mouth is good for more than talking Angelica: The mustache does tickle tho Elizabeth: [is gonna die] Ana: ...yeah I’m gonna pass that question off to Angelica and Giselle. I only ever did it the once anyway. Angelica: For the record I'd like to inform you all that I'm better than him Elizabeth: [moves her hands from covering her mouth to just burying her entire face in her palms] Angelica: I do hope your little navy man takes good care of you sweetheart Angelica: I always say that if he won't go down on you he's not worth your time Elizabeth: [muffled groan] Angelica: [sips wine] Ana: We could be your wingmen if you need it? I can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or upset because your face is covered. Angelica: I can make a powerpoint if you want Angelica: to show james Ana: He seems in love enough he’d probably do whatever to please you. Elizabeth: [pulling her hands down, composing herself immediately, after a moment to sniff as though she was on the verge of crying] I'm good. It's - we're good. Thank you. Elizabeth: [glances at Anamaria with a particularly fond smile at her statement that James looooves her] [because aww] Angelica: Eating ya girl out is part of being in love, everyone knows this Angelica: Just fyi if anyone here is thinking of dating me Elizabeth: [lifts just one hand to hier brow to make it out like she's scratching her temple but is really just momentarily avoiding Angelica's eyes] Angelica: [sips wine] Ana: Maybe if I did date someone the secret admirers would finally speak up about who they were.. Angelica: That might be uh, that could work maybe possibly Ana: I wouldn’t want to use someone like that, though. I dunno, stupid idea. Elizabeth: [hands end up clasped over her mouth again, but she doesn't say anything much] Angelica: I mean I could help you, if you want Angelica: That's what friends are for, right? Ana: What, like, fake date? You’d be okay with that? Angelica: Yeah, totally! :) If it helps us find the admirer then any tactic is good Angelica: plus it might scare jack Ana: That WOULD be hilarious. I mean, if you’re sure you’re okay with it, it’s worth a shot? Angelica: I don't see why not :)))) as long as you're comfortable with it Ana: Alright. I’m sorry I’ll probably be pretty awkward, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages Angelica: Oh no I'm sure you'll do great ️Angelica: So uh Angelica: Do we announce it? Ana: I guess so...? Elizabeth what did you do when you and James started seeing each other? Elizabeth: I... don't know that there's anything to compare to this. Angelica: If we want the admirer to see it we can't be discreet, right? Ana: I guess not, I just don’t really know what to post. It’s not like tumblr has a relationship status thing Elizabeth: Oh, hell. [laughs, albeit a little tensely] Elizabeth: Actually. I think that's nearly the same as this. Ana: [concerned] Elizabeth, are you alright? Elizabeth: I'm fine. There's just a whole lot of irony going around. Angelica: If you talk about it, maybe you'll feel better? Elizabeth: What's any of you know about James and I? Angelica: Not much, but if we knew more then we might be able to help you Angelica: We just want what's best for you darling Ana: I know you two are very close, he cares about you a lot. That’s about it. Elizabeth: Uh. Well. Elizabeth: James proposed to me in Port Royal the day I was first abducted by pirates. I accepted him after he rescued me later, but I was in love with somebody else and he let me go. Elizabeth: I didn't mean to end my entire marriage for him. I wish I could say I did. But it just sort of happened when Will and I met up and I told him how I was feeling. Elizabeth: Then, you know, James showed up in Tortuga and they tried to lynch him. I put a stop to that, and - more or less, people thought I was getting some... Use out of him. So yeah. Elizabeth: [back to business] Same as you, pretty much. We faked it really. I was only keeping him in my room since I thought somebody might try to finish hanging him if they got him alone. Angelica: So it was a bit of a coincidence, is what you're saying? Elizabeth: A huge one! Imagine if he'd showed up just a little earlier than I did. I'd have been too late. Angelica: Oh yeah he'd be dead af Ana: So are you saying it’s still kinda fake now? Elizabeth: It's pretty real now. I just don't know where it's going. Angelica: Well are you happy? Do you love him? Elizabeth: I'm. I'm not sure. Elizabeth: I'm not sure if I've ever really been in love. Elizabeth: [covers her eyes again as though she's getting a headache] Let's not talk about me. Angelica: No but sweetie, we need to solve this Angelica: You look like it's really eating you up [she puts her arms around liz] Elizabeth: [groans, inwardly, outwardly, globally, spiritually, on the astral plane, etc] Elizabeth: I've said I love him, but I don't know what I feel. Except guilt! I feel so much guilt! Angelica: I'm sorry to be the one to say this, but you might need some time to work on yourself darling Angelica: I'm not necessarily saying you should call things quits completely, but it sounds like this could end up being bad for both you and James Elizabeth: I can't do that to him. I was just talking to him about us. Angelica: Listen, you can't move things too fast if you're not sure about this. Whatever you decide to do, that's one point I cannot stress enough Ana: Sorting through your emotions on your own time, either by yourself or with people you’re comfortable with, doesn’t mean you have to leave James behind, or even go on a break. Elizabeth: Angelica, if i took that advice, I would be on an island in the Caribbean somewhere, starving. With Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth: I've spent the last three years of my life moving too fast. Angelica: Then maybe it's time to calm down a little. Focus on your career or something Elizabeth: But I do care about him. Elizabeth: And it's not Jack that ruined his life, it's me. I did that. Elizabeth: He let Jack go because I stepped in and asked him. Elizabeth: Hell. If I had married him, he might not have chased Jack into a hurricane, either. Elizabeth: I owe him a lot. And he needs my protection - he worked for Beckett for a year and no one trusts him. Angelica: Sweetie, you can't be in a relationship just because you feel like you owe the guy something. That's not healthy and certainly not fair to him Angelica: With your position I'm sure you can grant him some form of protection, as for what you owe him there are other ways to pay that debt off Elizabeth: [a little stubbornly] It's not the only reason. It's part of the reason. Angelica: A reason still, you should never feel like you owe a significant other anything Angelica: How would you feel if it were the other way around? Elizabeth: If James felt that he owed me? Angelica: exactly Elizabeth: I think he does feel that he owes me. Angelica: Then that's no good either Elizabeth: [desperately] Do we really have to talk about this? Angelica: If it's making you uncomfortable then we don't have to, but I do think you should talk to someone about this Elizabeth: There's nothing to talk about. Angelica: [shrugging] if you say so... Elizabeth: [crossing her arms, but thankfully not evoking either pirate king or captain status to get her way, just sulking] I do. Angelica: Yeah I can tell :) Ana: Well I might be shit at relationship advice but I’m fantastic at changing the subject. We ranted about Jack already but we haven’t dragged Beckett? Angelica: The only thing I know about him is that he's short and a Bitch Giselle: short and obsessed with himself - we all, 'cept cap'n swann, ree-gret-ah-blee have a kom-man-al-ihtee with him Angelica: Oh really? And with that, Girls’ Night amiably returned to slumber-party standards: subjects were changed, wine was had by all, and eventually men’s faces were defaced with mysterious sigils such as approximations of the eggplant emoji and the exotic incantation only known as DEEZ NUTS... and what horrors it summons, none yet live who can speak of it.

#potcsuggestions #pirates of the caribbean #long post #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: angelica #ch: anamaria #ch: lady mar-mah-lad #format: chat #pl: the black pearl

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 6 years

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The Pearl: Elizabeth and James

Part 1/2. All the delights and confusions of intimacy; immediately upon conclusion of this conversation, Elizabeth and James recoup in her cabin, intending to enjoy the former and forced to navigate the latter along the way.

CW: James’ personal history, particularly the recent events in Tortuga (gone into in greater detail here), renders his sexuality a thorny territory he is not entirely comfortable in, much as he would like it to be, for her sake. Elizabeth, a rash and affectionate person, but not a particularly emotionally intuitive one, has to learn to be more sensitive and communicative with him, but it’s a journey, and her insecurity that he, perhaps, may not want her as he once did, complicates it further.

There may be some for whom this chapter veers into uncomfortable places - Elizabeth is not pushy, but she gets tactless, particularly in her attempts to understand where he’s coming from. We are personally pleased with their approaching, however slowly, a better understanding of each other and a better style of communication, but readers for whom the topic of desire or lack thereof is a touchy one may want to sit this out.

Feat. @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions and @norringtonsuggestions

Captain Swann, who had been taking a break from studying astronomy with Captain Barbossa to text, took a break from texting to have a Word with Captain Norrington. This involved hastily striding across the deck, brushing her hair out of her face, striving to not be flustered, and then pausing to reply to another text when the very man was in sight of her, because she was so keen not to have the final say in anything.

On that note, as to prevent him from having a moment to reply, she shouted, loud enough to turn heads: “CAPTAIN NORRINGTON!”

And heads did turn. Elizabeth had not prepared for how flushed she was in the face at that, lest anyone witness worse than name-shouting; how serious had he been about holding this over her head? Because he could just blab about it here and now, instead. That alone prevented her from wanting to give the impression that she was angry at him, so while her walk said business, the lift of her chin when she approached him said flirtation.

“My cabin, if you will,” she said, and then regally turned around to shoot every man watching a glare. That put an end to that.

James’s face was quite still as he followed her, but the expression frozen on it was a light smirk. When she finally looked at him again, he moved enough to lift his eyebrows in smug amusement.

Door shut, she immediately shoved him, stifling as much of her laughter as she could.

“I don’t fancy her! You - shh! Shhhhhh-”

Who she was shushing was up for some debate.

“Are you sure of that? Are you really sure-“

She made an abortive attempt to tickle him quiet that ended quickly in dropping her head onto his chest in an effort to bury her blushing and smother her mortified laughter at the same time.

“I’m not about to let go of this,” he laughed, putting his arms around her.

“Nothing happened-”

“Oh, I’m quite aware-“

“You’re aware, are you? Have a second sense of what I get up to?”

“She’s on my crew, I keep aware-“

“For all you know, I have already made plans with her behind your back,” said Elizabeth with a widening smirk - turning this around on him was the only tool left at her disposal to prevent herself from being quite as embarrassed as she was feeling. Her hands slid down his back, squeezed affectionately. He jolted in surprise and began to laugh again.

“Plans? Oh? Without me-“

“Perhaps, as I do not have, what did you call it? The equipage? - we could find some use for you-”

This was the kind of thing guaranteed to break James Norrington’s famous stoicism even if he hadn’t already given himself a break on it. He certainly tried to avoid laughing any longer, but he sputtered and failed, until he was helplessly leaning his head against hers and shaking.

She hmmed at him affectionately and kissed his temple, rubbing her fingers under his hair as she held his head and waited for him to be teasable again.

“I think- I think I’m getting a touch giddy from a week of sobriety,” he admitted. “A kind of reverse drunkenness-“

“Tell me what I can do to help,” she whispered, kissing him on the forehead.

“It’s not a matter of needing help,” he said, with another bleary laugh. “I shall prevail, I’m certain of that.”

When he lifted his head, he returned the kiss, but was sure to give it to her lips instead. Elizabeth kissed him back, but tried to speak to him shortly after, although she was reluctant to break the kiss - she spoke, then, against his lips, voice coming out muffled: “You’re not - you don’t really think - you don’t think I’ll leave you, do you-?”

“Mm- leave is a harsh word,” said James. “I suppose it has ever been close to my mind that our arrangement may not be permanent-“

“Do we have to think so far ahead? We could literally die trying to save Jack-”

“Let us pray not. I think if I were to die trying to rescue Jack Sparrow, I might never live it down,” James said flatly.

Elizabeth attempted to not laugh at that.

“Well,” he said, “are we reassured now?”

“On the contrary,” she said, still attempting not to sputter and occasionally cracking and doing it anyway, “I am less certain than I have ever been-”

“Your crew are probably forming some interesting ideas as to what’s going on in here,” James noted, glancing toward the door and then back to her, with the same smirk as before.

“As long as you are fine with that then I am,” she said, some of her blush returning, though she could meet his eyes.

“It’s part of the territory of being your dog, is it not?” he said lightly.

“Tell me what you would rather we imply and we shall either imply it, or… implement it…” she said, taking him by the hands, rubbing the backs of them with her thumbs.

“Mm- I’m rather short on imagination,” he admitted, leaning his face toward hers again. “Better you devise the scenario, and I follow along, as is my wont.”

“James,” she said softly, pulling back just enough to try and make out his expression, “if something is the matter, say so.”

He shook his head.

“Nothing is the matter,” he said, and he cupped her chin in his hand affectionately to prove it. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on it, and I have come to find it- a comfort, of sorts. It’s familiar, in its way. Directives, duties…” Wryly, he added, “Before long I expect you’ll have fashioned me a uniform.”

“Dog’s head buckles,” she reminded him, and she kissed him.

“Like a coat of arms,” James murmured. When he kissed her in turn, he could only hope his week-old beard did not scratch her too terribly. It was, of course, a silly concern. She liked his beard, and cupped his cheek to hold him closer.

“I don’t want to just give you - more of the same, you know-”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you have seen what I am like in the absence of the same.”

“True,” she said, with a gentle laugh. “And yet somehow there is still so much ass-kicking either way,” and she tousled his hair. Short as it was, it was actually beginning to show its growth far more evidently week by week now than it ever had worn long, and there was by now too much of it to fit neatly under a wig anymore without arranging it. He was beginning to look rather more like a common sailor than a Navy officer, present or former.

“Well,” he said, “I believe the point stands nonetheless. It’s… easier this way, I think. I’m used to living by defined parameters.”

“So am I, but I didn’t like it,” she pointed out, and laughed as she kissed him again. “We must find some way to meet in the middle.”

“I’m best suited to this kind of structure,” James protested. “It’s… well, it’s a purpose.”

“It’s a what,” she asked in glee.

“It’s something by which I can order my life.”

“Those aren’t the same thing-”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you are the only thing left in the world about which I care enough to do that.”

Elizabeth was a little overcome, but it manifested in the only way she knew how to show it - in delight. She kissed him - tried to topple him, in fact.

“Elizabeth-“

There wasn’t much room in the cabin. James hit the bed with a thump, startled into laughter.

“My God-“

“Don’t go that far,” she teased him, to which he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“You’re going to make me break the bed-“

“I would have you on the floor, if I had to,” she said smoothly. “Though I don’t fancy explaining to Barbossa what happened to his guest room-”

“I scarcely fit on the bed the other night as it is,” he said pointedly.

“You’re a lot of man.”

“You haven’t much basis for comparison,” he conceded modestly. Elizabeth slid off him, laughing. It was less immediately fun than kissing was, but it was not so bad, once the mood had settled, to be lying on a bed with someone with the mid-afternoon sun drifting in through a window and your hand stroking their cheek.

And when they were not presently talking, James got a look in his eyes that he only gave her - like he did not believe what he saw, but wanted to. She had willfully ignored that before. She supposed she hadn’t liked feeling guilty about it. She felt guilty about it still, but it was worth a twinge or two of that to look at him, looking at her.

“Is that all you meant to clear up, then?” he asked.

“That I don’t fancy her? Yeah,” she said with a snort in concession to her own foolishness. Her hand slid down from his face, her fingers dragging over his throat, as she moved to lay it over his heart. Jones’ was beating nearby, but that wasn’t the heartbeat she wanted to feel.

“If you did,” he said carefully, “I doubt there would be much I could do about it.”

“There would be something I could do about it,” said Elizabeth, her own pulse quickening. Her eyes moved from her hand on his heart to his eyes, looking fierce, and perhaps a little desperate. “James, you don’t think I’d-?”

“You left your husband on my account,” he sighed. “I am aware that this is by no means a conventional arrangement.”

“I didn’t-” Her anguish showed on her face and smothered whatever words she wanted to say. She couldn’t even think of any.

“Elizabeth,” he began, as he reached out to touch her face, then thought better of it. “Have I spoken out of turn?”

“You don’t think that I’m just some - I’m just faithless - I’m just looking for a good time and with anybody, do you-”

“I never said that,” James interrupted. “Nor do I believe it.”

Elizabeth was so upset and rattled by this that she needed to be embraced, immediately. James was quick to oblige.

“It is only that your separation was so sudden, that I don’t know what I may fairly… hold you to,” he said, in the same cautious tone.

“If Will had not left - if Will had asked me to choose,” said Elizabeth quietly, “I was going to… I was going to stop with you both.”

“Ah,” said James. “I- well.”

He had no idea what to say to that, so he decided not to try. It wasn’t much, he knew- it was at worst a confirmation of what he already feared, but he wanted a bottle like a man dying of thirst.

It was fortunate, at least, that he still wanted it less than he wanted Elizabeth.

“You will still have my loyalty, of course-“ he began.

“I don’t want someone else,” she said quickly, talking over him.

“Are you certain?”

“I know I couldn’t choose before - I’m sorry for that,” she said, still speaking quickly, and trying, perhaps somewhat wretchedly, to comfort him by smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “But God, if I loved you any less, I would have shut it away for good, I would have stayed with Will and I would never have let you know. I tried to. I couldn’t - and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.”

“Elizabeth,” he sighed. “Please don’t apologize. You know I had relinquished our relationship, such as it ever was, that night on the Dutchman.”

“Did you? It seems to me you renewed it - such as it ever was. Or perhaps it started then.” She pressed the top of her head up against his chin, shutting her eyes with her face so near his throat the lashes brushed against his skin.

“Mm. What would the crew think if they saw you like this?”

“Don’t care.”

“Not that I am ungrateful,” he said, burying his hand in her hair and rubbing the back of her neck, “but I would hate to see you endanger your standing with a midday tumble in your dog’s arms.”

“‘I have a headache,’” she moaned in preparation, pressing her forehead against him pathetically. “‘Ooh, I think my head’s going to explode-’”

“So you come to your drunken dog for relief?” James retorted, not unfondly, and tenderly smoothing her hair back as though she really were in pain all the same.

“Maybe I need a very special medicine-”

“You say that and they’ll assume you mean tincture of laudanum, coming to me.”

“Maybe I do. Oh, James, why can’t you shut up, I was trying to be nice-” she said affectionately.

“Because you have a reputation you told me you must maintain on pain of death- God help me, Lizzy, I know what that’s like.”

He didn’t emphasize this by sitting up for fear of dislodging her, but he lifted his head enough to hopefully convey the seriousness of the situation.

“What kind of gap do you think exists between what they think we are doing in here and what we are doing in here?” she asked in some annoyance. “As if anyone would be surprised that we are in bed.”

“I don’t want to cause you any greater trouble than my lassitude already has,” James said. “Please.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, got to a sitting position and gestured at him to stay where he was. Then she took him by the wrists and straddled him. The movement seemed… abrupt.

“Now may I have a serious conversation with you without fearing for my God damn reputation?”

James slowly looked her over as well as he could from his position, eyes widening.

“Er. Yes, I suppose this will do-“

“Will it?” she asked, pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side of his head. It wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable position to have him in. “Because if not I shall begin to insist we spend every minute of our alone time with you bent over something just in case someone walks in on it.”

“Elizabeth-“

“That a yes, dog?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She brought one hand up to her mouth and kissed the palm of it before pressing it over her own heart and holding it there. An apology.

“I meant to say earlier, I do not attempt to paint myself better than I am: I did not really choose you. But James, I would. I would now. Do you believe me?”

He wanted to.

He wasn’t sure.

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation.

She smiled somewhat painfully. She didn’t believe him. But she leaned down and kissed him all the same.

“Just tell me what you need from me,” James murmured between kisses, “and I will do it…”

“Tell me, James,” she sighed, letting his other hand go so that he could, hopefully, touch her with it. Her grip on his other she maintained, entwining their fingers, rubbing her thumb over his fingers, bidding him feel her heartbeat. “What is it like, to possess the heart of the most dangerous person on the sea?”

He slid his fingers into her hair.

“It is a tremendous burden that I know has placed me in harm’s way,” he said softly, gazing up at her, “but which I would not trade for the world…”

Fuck her reputation.

Elizabeth dropped down to embrace him again, and she was trembling with gratitude. James, misunderstanding, pushed up in alarm.

“Elizabeth?”

“Hold me, James-”

“Ssh- I’m here. Tell me what’s frightened you, sweetheart-“

“Nothing-” Realizing where he had misunderstood her, she willed herself to relax into his arms and pushed herself up just enough to press kisses all over his face.

“Elizabeth-“

He didn’t exactly mind being kissed, but something about it was still hitting a false note.

“Elizabeth, please-“

“What is it?”

“Are you all right? You’re shaking,” he said, taking her hand in his own, which was thankfully steady now that his drinking tremors had passed.

She leaned up just enough to look down at him and see his face, smiling ruefully.

“I don’t deserve your love, but I want it,” she said, releasing the hand of his she held so that she could gently cup his face instead. She brushed her thumb over the new beard developing on his handsome jawline as she kissed his open mouth.

“I suppose-“

He didn’t get to finish the sentence; kissing her was better than that, and her hair and the back of her neck were both in easy caressing distance.

The longer they did this, the likelier it became that someone would come looking for them, and the harder it became to stop. Eventually Elizabeth decided that there was an easy explanation - she could say they were eating their lunch, the hour was late enough - and then realized that the best way to actually implement that was to acquire lunch so that they could eat it and then resume whatever they were doing. Also, she didn’t want James to go without food for very long; she thought it seemed likely to agitate his desire to drink.

The reluctantly agreed to part ways and then do just that, spending some time actually captaining before reconvening with food. Elizabeth thought she would get the eating over and done with quickly, on account of being hungrier for something else entirely. It turned out she was, mostly, just hungry. She sat with him on the bed, one leg proprietarily over his leg, eating from a large platter she’d assembled for them both. It was nothing fancy, in spite of their captain status; it was the same thing everyone else ate, plus some of Barbossa’s fruit.

“Are we packing more provisions at the witch’s house?” James asked, after swallowing a bit of what had been ostentatiously marked as PROSCIUTTO DI PARMA but was plainly the same salted pork he was already used to from his time in the Navy. On reflection, he wasn’t sure if there was actually much of a difference between Prosciutto di Parma and salt pork, but he had to concede that he didn’t have enough of a finely developed palate to entirely know the difference- though it did seem just like Barbossa to stock the ship with salt pork under a more impressive name.

It was the oranges that were of more interest to him- they were small, of course, not like the fist-sized delicacies he’d occasionally eaten in Jamaica, but very sweet, and capable of being peeled without a knife. All he had to do was dig his thumbnail into the peel and pull, and it came away in thick, sweet-smelling flakes that could be saved and dried to grate for-

Well, perhaps not rum, in his case, but they would probably still lend a good taste to water they were boiled in. He tried not to think about rum by breaking up the little orange and offering Elizabeth a wedge.

Elizabeth smirked at him, took his wrist and ate the slice from his fingers, though gracefully enough that she started to laugh at herself.

“There,” he teased. “If the rumors are true, there’s another six weeks of good health for you.”

“I’ve heard other rumors,” she said primly. “Perhaps I ought to spend some alone time with our Spanish lady.”

This took James a moment, after which his eyes rolled directly back into his head to the point of nearly going white. Elizabeth started giggling and tapping him on the ribs with her fingertips.

“I haven’t even given you a proper demonstration of that,” he said, pointing at her to emphasize it, “so good luck with that.”

(This was about as filthy as he could yet tolerate being with Elizabeth.)

“I think it would be fairly intuitive. I can empathize; you can’t.”

He paused, about to ask exactly how knowledgeable her empathy was, and then looked at her hand and decided against it.

“I do not see what is meant to be so distracting about her. I have yet to have so much as a clear view of her face with that hat in the way.”

Elizabeth made a cupping gesture over her own chest and looked at him in disbelief. James, in turn, gestured as though grabbing coat lapels that covered anything beneath them.

“Christ’s wounds,” said Elizabeth in near scorn, “what did you see in me? Do you have eyes?”

“You were already a dear friend,” James said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. “Not everyone pays attention to these things, Elizabeth. If I went noticing every time a handsome woman walked in front of me I would accomplish nothing but proving the worst ideas about the Navy to be incontrovertible-“

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she realized she had managed to overlook his entire descent into bearded, open-shirted beauty the first time he’d sported it and that it was relatively easy to do.

“I give you permission,” she said, carefully and chastely, “to notice her. And report back to me on it, will you?”

“And then what?” James demanded in exasperation. “Is it not enough to concede that the woman is good-looking?”

“Maybe I will make you tell me your fantasies,” asked Elizabeth, teasing him and moving gingerly to her side. Her leg remained over his, but now she slid it underneath the other, which somehow seemed even more intimate.

“So now I’ve been tasked with inventing fantasies,” he said, giving her a very flat look up from his orange.

“Do you not have fantasies? You’re a- used to be - a naval officer. What else could you have done with your nights?” In spite of the topic, Elizabeth’s frown was more curious than salacious.

“I slept,” he said stiffly. “I made plans. I wrote in my log- what, do you suppose I had time to dwell on carnal matters-”

“Who doesn’t have time for a little bit of dwelling-”

“There’s little point in dwelling when one is three weeks from port!”

“It was a euphemism!”

“I had to be prepared for someone to come knocking on my cabin door at all hours,” said James, with an attempt at firm dignity. “It was not… prudent, to prioritize such matters.”

“They could hardly be surprised - they’d have been doing it, too.”

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but as an example-”

“Of what, impotence?”

“You are in a uniquely suited position to know otherwise,” said James, just before he tipped back a tin cup of a disappointing mixture of coconut water and lemon juice.

“Just the thing to recommend you to a girl’s father. ‘Sir, I am capable, yet wholly sexless. I do not notice contours of any kind-’”

“Elizabeth-”

“What a wedding night,” she said, casting him an amused, but detached look - not a cruel one, but one unsympathetic enough to unintentionally hurt - as she sipped her own cup and pulled a face, bearing it well, especially for a lady raised on teacakes and prime cuts. “No fantasies to speak of, just your good Navy enthusiasm for doing your duty-”

“I told you,” he said, with an annoyed, forced evenness, “I practiced.”

“Good. It sounds as though you need to.”

“Most men do, if Lettie’s word is to be trusted.”

“Not at pleasuring themselves,” she said dismissively.

“Why do you want this so close to my mind?” James blurted.

“I’d flattered myself you’d wanted me,” she said, a touch bitter, and then surprised at that. “That’s all.”

“Of course I wanted to marry you,” James said, frowning.

“Oh, you idiot,” she said, now in real irritation, flushing and feebly kicking him.

“Elizabeth-”

He had to cover his cup to keep it from spilling.

“And what do husbands and wives do, do you know that part?”

“Yes,” he said in frustration. “That’s why I sought out lessons.”

“But you never thought about - about it?”

He shrugged.

“It seemed… uncouth.”

She stared at him.

“Thinking in such a manner, of a woman who had not yet made herself available in such a way…” he said, spreading his hands apologetically.

“Nothing?”

“I suppose I thought of… kissing you,” he admitted. “Carrying you into the bedroom-”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, turning pink, and glanced aside. But after a moment she stole a look back at him and said, “Really?” She smiled involuntarily, only for a moment, before composing her expression as casually as possible.

“That seemed suitable,” he said. “Acceptable.”

“And - what did you - What did you imagine to be my reaction-”

“I suppose I hoped you might lean your head on my shoulder-” He gestured to the specific place, just beyond his neck.

Elizabeth felt like she was, strangely, vibrating - like a phone ringing on silent. “Do you remember - do you remember walking with me in the garden at my father’s house-”

“I’m ashamed to say I have dwelled upon it, in my lower moments,” he said, eyes averted.

“Why did you try nothing? You never even took my hand-”

He looked up at her again.

“I did not wish to be overzealous in my affections.”

“You didn’t have any zeal.”

“Or so you believed.”

“So you showed!”

“It would have been unseemly to do otherwise!”

“More fool you,” she said coolly, though the momentary flash of anger in her eyes was all heat. “I do think you had a chance then.”

James stared at her, stunned into silence.

“Well,” he said finally. “There is little point in regretting that at this late date-”

“You didn’t think about it at all?” Elizabeth interrupted him, swiftly and in enough agitation to reveal how personally wounded she felt by it. “You didn’t - nothing?”

“I didn’t think about that with anyone!” James retorted.

“But you wanted to marry me-”

“I don’t- Elizabeth, I don’t dwell on such things. I never have-”

She looked hurt, she felt foolish for looking hurt, and she tried to end the conversation, or her part of it, by taking the last swallows of the tasteless anti-scurvy concoction, but it only invited comparison to all the prim sips of tea she’d sipped across a delicate wooden table from this man in well-bred company and know that his eye had never once slipped over her décolletage.

“I- the few times it occurred to me, I pushed it away. It seemed a grotesque violation,” said James.

“It - it did occur to you, though?” asked Elizabeth, wanting to stop herself from seeming too vain and pathetic, and undercutting it with her smile of relief.

“The thought of you taking your hair down-”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened, and the blood rushed to her face. She avoided his eyes, but hers were wide.

“-I had to shut it out,” he said, too quickly. “The- the implied intimacy-”

“You’re making me wish I wore it up again,” she said with a nervous laugh. It died on her dry lips as she looked at him.

“No, you don’t,” he said ruefully. “I drank to dull the thought of it.”

“I suppose it isn’t the same when I braid it up, is it.”

“It’s different now,” he said. “And we have already been rather intimate.”

“I know,” she said; “but only twice.”

“Only twice!”

“Are you counting more than once in one day? I am counting by days-”

“And that’s leaving off Tortuga-”

She flushed yet again. “Yes, there is that, but- James, I-” She broke off and bit her lip, smiling down at the abandoned rest of their luncheon, feeling a greater fool than she had accused him of being.

“Yes?”

He reached for her hand. That only embarrassed her further, when moments ago she had been accusing him of not wanting to touch her enough.

“I know I may be a king of pirates, and a rather undeserving captain, to boot- but I still have all the vanities of a lady,” she said with a rueful, but sincere smile, still looking down, now focusing her attention on their hands, as she rubbed her thumb over the back of his.

“Why, then, do you wish for me to pay more attention to the Spanish girl?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “I love you, Elizabeth. I love you.”

She looked at him abruptly, a lost and wondering look in her eyes. James smiled for a quick moment, but it fell just as quickly as he returned to his plate.

“I just want….” she began, but she couldn’t finish, and withdrew her hand. The moment seemed to have passed very quickly, but she had lost her appetite for their meal, which was not particularly flavorful, anyway. She saw why their men enjoyed their rum so much, and made a compartmentalized mental note to herself to find something to alleviate that when they were back from this latest mess of Jack’s.

He watched her, and while it occurred to him to ask what she meant, he feared that would seem graceless and prying even now. He touched her knee instead, with a look of concern. She looked quickly up at him and smiled again; it was a reflex, but it was sincere, though it had a lot in common with smiles she had given him in years past that had been more than a little pained.

“...what all women want,” she said quietly. “Pirate King or not. To be wanted. And beautiful. I feel…. If it is a choice, of course I will choose my freedom. It is a pretty poor trade, to imprison all women and tell them that they inspire poems and paintings and whatever. But I did not realize what I might miss from that life until you returned to me and I saw myself through your eyes.”

“I would never have satisfied you on that account,” he said, moving his hand away. “I do not- I feel as though any inclinations of an artistic nature I might once have had were stunted, burned out. You should have seen the poetry I once wrote Mrs. Fenton.”

He made a rueful little scoffing noise.

“I never gave it to her. Nor, do I think, were any about the woman herself, so you needn’t feel jealous of that.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant-” she said in frustration. “All women, including your Mrs. Fenton - we’re only ever allowed to be beautiful and married. And we don’t have a choice in that matter - well, if we do, we invite the world’s judgment. That’s the only way to do anything, as a girl. If you’re beautiful or if you marry well. It’s even worse for women like Giselle. She’s not exactly been courted by commodores,” she said moodily, tossing her empty cup onto the floor, where it clattered. “Not unless you mean so very euphemistically. Well, I’m not sorry I chose this over that. I just didn’t realize until you got here that I would miss any of it. The nicer bits. The ones that are supposed to make up for the crap.”

James watched her for a long moment.

“...I didn’t realize,” he said softly. “I thought you were in your element here.”

“I want to think so,” she said with a quiet, harsh laugh. “Sometimes I feel as out of place as I ever did in Port Royal, though. I like it best when you’re here. You’re my people, James. You’re not Port Royal - not really - and you’re not really pirate, either. But making do. And it suits you, but you haven’t gotten there yet. Like me -”

He nearly protested that he wasn’t making do as much as he was finding the only use he had left, but if even a little of that use was to make her feel less useless and out of place by her own reckoning, it wasn’t that terrible, he supposed. Instead of reaching for her hand, which he supposed would read as a weak and sexless gesture after everything they had just discussed, he moved the tray aside and picked up another orange, meeting her eyes as he did.

He peeled it, broke off another little wedge, and held it out to her lips between his fingertips.

“You’re doing a better job than you think.”

This time she held onto his hand, and kept her eyes on his as she accepted the orange. It did not have the amusing undercurrent it had had earlier. She took it as an apology, though she expected neither of them fully knew what he needed to apologize for - possibly every dim thing that had passed between them in another lifetime. She also felt that the brush of his thumb against the inside of her upper lip sent a chill down her back even in the Caribbean climate, and when she had swallowed the orange she kept her hand on his - fingers on his palm, thumb at the back of his hand- and kissed his knuckles, returning his gaze again.

“I know that this may not be of any reassurance,” he said, “but I only feel as though I’ve truly made your acquaintance out here, as you- as we are, presently. I believe that in turn my affection has only increased.”

He hazarded a smile. Elizabeth reached out and brushed her thumb over that smile, entwining the fingers of her other hand with the hand of his she held.

“I feel as though I’ve met you for the first time, and yet as if I’ve known you forever, better and longer than I’ve ever known anyone,” she said in wonder. “I can’t explain it. It as though knowing you now illuminates every single thing you’ve ever said or done before. And now I recall things that irritated me or bored me in the past, and I see them differently, and I love you for them - as if I always had. That’s funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s encouraging,” he said, laughing.

“Is that what it is for you, too?”

“It’s a welcome reminder of continuity,” said James, “to know that you see me as an improved continuation of my prior life, rather than the ruins of it. For me, watching you- it is like watching a rose bush become a bower and climb over the walls of the manor house that once kept it trimmed and arranged for display.”

“That’s poetry, James,” she pointed out, but she let go of him.

She wanted to put these dishes on the floor.

And then she wanted to rest her head exactly where he’d said he had once thought of. That one little concession to her aforementioned vanity - telling her that.

“You’re right,” she said, with a sigh of contentment, shutting her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate to think of any more than this, not when I wasn’t yours. But it would be nice - it would be nice to know I had inspired that. Back when I was still capable of being pretty. When I was supposed to be.”

“You are far lovelier now than you were then,” he murmured. “There is a joy in your eyes you once pointedly lacked.”

“That’s also poetry.”

“Nothing very good, though, is it?” he laughed.

“Second-rate poems, for a second-rate mistress,” she said with a bitter laugh of her own. “It suits me fine.”

“You’re far too lethal to be counted as a second rate,” James said dryly.

She still looked morose, but she couldn’t grudge him a smile. “Yeah. I did a fairly good job of ruining your life, after all. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“Elizabeth,” he sighed, “I was already a-“

He swallowed.

“Elizabeth. Listen to me. I was a pirate-hunting drunk who had most likely reached the end of his promotional ladder when I brought you into that battlement and asked for your hand. All right? Does that assuage you? If the Admiralty had any faith in my ongoing prospects, they would have sent me off to the Channel, or at least out to deal with French ships off of Jamaica, not pirates. I’m not even the youngest to have made Commodore. They gave that to Keppel only a few months past, and he’s of an age with you, I believe, and created a viscount besides. That’s what they do for men with futures. I’m not- I wasn’t the great, promising leader you thought. I was only ever the… the backup system, and already in my cups when you weren’t looking. You ruined nothing- because looking back, there was nothing to ruin. I did not see it then, but it is plain now.”

He said this firmly- almost fiercely- and made his point by kissing her at its conclusion. She had been angry enough at what he said to be thoroughly thrown off by that, but after accepting the kiss for just a moment, she took his face in her hands and pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

“My father didn’t think so,” she said defiantly, and made her point by kissing him.

“Your father probably believed I would eventually follow him into the governor’s mansion,” James shot back when he could free his mouth long enough to say so, and then kissing her again to smother her argument.

“And- mm-” Elizabeth was faring worse than he was, having no practice, as he apparently had, at stifling her libido, and presently wanting him very much to keep his mouth where it was, “-you- might’ve- done-”

“I’m- mm- hardly a political animal-“

“I suppose he thought-- “ Elizabeth was nearly panting, she so struggled to kiss him and speak at once that she forgot to breathe. “-- I’d do it for you--”

“Pr- probably-“

Elizabeth put her hand between his thighs while slipping her tongue into his mouth with a moan of resignation. James smirked against her mouth and did what little he could under the circumstances to move himself back from her hand, teasing her. Elizabeth reached forward for him enough to lose her balance, narrowly avoiding a painful collision of their faces but unable to evade making an idiot of herself as she fell onto his chest.

James laughed affectionately and helped her up.

“You really ought to be more patient.”

“I can’t,” she entreated, putting her hands on his arms and sliding them upwards, pulling herself closer into his lap in the process. “I spend every moment I can spare thinking on your beautiful face -- and the last place you put it--”

“Not bad for capable yet sexless, was it?” he said pointedly.

“You win,” she wheedled, nuzzling him. “You win, darling. You’re all man, every inch-”

“You haven’t had every inch yet,” he reminded her.

“I’ve seen it,” she said, sliding her hand up his thigh again, and tilting her head up to look into his eyes. “Every inch.”

James crossed his legs.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Pirate,” she reminded him, her lips smiling against his.

“Even so-”

“Do you really not want me?” she asked, hands resting on his knees, tilting her head.

“Of course I want you,” he said, leaning forward to claim her mouth.

“Then why don’t you want me?” she asked softly.

“I do-”

He put his hand on hers.

“-but not right now.”

“I can entice you, if you like…” she said, bringing his hand to her throat and pressing his palm over her collarbone.

“In the middle of the day?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Oh- shit- that’s right,” she said, breaking the mood so abruptly and wincing at her own stupidity such that she did not see him blinking. “I forgot to tell you - Giselle wants to have a little all-girls party and I offered up the cabin as a meeting place. There’s nowhere else we can actually seclude ourselves.”

“Why are you asking me?” James asked, taking her hands. “It’s your cabin.”

“I’m not asking you,” she said wryly, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re being informed. Unfortunately…”

“Well,” he said, “some of us can wait.”

He kissed her again, as though his cheek were not enough. She accepted the kiss, but did not deepen it, because she wanted to argue that point.

“But why should we have to, when we are here together now…”

“For the sake of your reputation, at the very least,” James said insistently, leaning his forehead against hers. His eye was less bloodshot now- the pooled blood had receded, and was replaced by a small pink filigree burst.

“I don’t think it harms my reputation to abscond into my cabin after lunch to make my mistress service me,” she argued. “Barbossa spends his free time training a monkey and sewing it its own little outfits!”

“Then allow me to service you,” he said pointedly. “Let me tend to you, as your dog.”

She closed one hand into a fist and weakly pressed it against his chest, where she unfurled it and sadly rubbed her fingers over his collarbone.

“That isn’t what I want, James.”

“What… precisely… do you want, then, Elizabeth?” he asked, tipping her face up to his.

She tilted her head enough to kiss his thumb, then shut her eyes and lean into his hand.

“It’s my turn. I want to taste you.”

“Are you certain that’s wise, Your Majesty? Anyone could come in here, cameras blazing-”

“They had better not,” she said, kissing his palm affectionately. “Tell me you don’t want me to, and I’ll stop. I’m not trying to make you-”

“It’s your standing that I’m worried about,” he said as he moved his hand to cup her cheek instead. “You’ve much more to lose- as both King, and as a woman.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to come in, and besides - if they do we can very easily pretend I’m doing something else-”

“And what would that be-”

“Come on,” she said, eye-rolling. She did not elaborate. “Besides, I hate to shock you, but if anyone came into my cabin without even knocking first, I would shoot him regardless of what I were doing. That would uphold my reputation.”

“I’m afraid I’m not exactly prepared,” he retorted.

“For what?”

He gestured down between his legs, rolling his eyes at the indignity of having to indicate this.

“I don’t expect that to last. You adore me.”

“Of course I do,” he said indignantly. “But the timing at present-“

“What, you can’t get it up when the sun is?” she asked, baffled. “Come lie down with me and we’ll kiss for a while, then…”

“If her majesty insists,” said James, with an exaggerated seated bow. “But this might take some time. I feel you ought to be forewarned.”

“It’s good enough to be kissing,” said Elizabeth, visibly perking up at the implication that they would. “Do you mind if I- get a little more comfortable-”

“Be my guest-“

Elizabeth shrugged off a number of accessories - belts, a waistcoat, a lot of weapons - until she wore just her trousers and her shirt, then she enthusiastically kissed him - pulling herself close and throwing a leg over his lap. James startled and had to lean back on one arm to keep her from knocking the both of them over, but he put his other arm around her and deepened the kiss. Elizabeth rested her arms on his shoulders, playing with his hair while she kissed him.

“What are you doing up there,” he murmured, without much rebuke in his voice.

“I like it here,” she said with a sleepy-sounding, very contented laugh. “Touch me. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” James sighed in affected weariness. “If I may speak in my defense, I never noticed any contours in Port Royal largely because a woman’s dress and all of that underlying scaffolding does not leave much contour to notice in the first place, save a bit of exaggerated bosom. This, now, on the other hand…”

It felt forward to admit, even now, with her flopped against him and her mass of loosened hair falling freely, but he did as he was told and slid his hand against her side, through her thin shirt.

“God help me, Elizabeth,” he said, fully aware of the type of teasing this was inviting. “I… I like you very much in men’s clothing.”

Elizabeth’s eyes, shut to better savor the touch of his hands, opened wide at the specifics of that, startling her into laughing. “Good Lord, I hope that is not to imply I look enough like a boy for you-”

“It’s quite the opposite, really,” he said. “Women in stays all have the same sort of shape. I feel I can form a greater… appreciation this way.”

He showed her what he meant with an appreciative slip of the hand to meet her bosom over the shirt. It took her by surprise. In spite of what they’d been up to now - approaching nearly a month of being up to, in fact - she still reacted to being touched with a startling degree of innocence.

“To say nothing of your legs- with a skirt and panniers you might as well be rolling about on casters-”

“You think I don’t - ohh, James.”

She kissed him, distractedly.

“Mm- what’s that?”

“I hated those skirts,” she whispered affectionately, trying to get closer to him without hindering him at the same time.

“Did you? I never noticed- at least not once you were no longer a girl-”

“Yes, I finally conquered it,” Elizabeth laughed. “Womanhood - the whole mess-”

“I rather assumed if we married that you’d end up in breeches eventually,” he admitted, “being at sea and all that.”

“Is that something you thought about?” she asked, with a curious frown.

He blanched, eyes widening.

“-here and there-” he said, rather quickly.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, but it did not disguise her smile of contentment. She wasn’t smug; she was too sincerely happy to hear it for that.

“I suppose you’re closer now to the ideal I had for our future than you ever were in Port Royal,” James said, a little helplessly. “Does that reassure you?”

“It does.”

“Good,” he said softly. “I feared you might find it… perverse, in some way.”

“After everything I just said to you?” she teased him - gently; he seemed delicate now.

“Especially after your fear that I prefer you as a boy-“

“I mean, I seem to have made a rather convincing one, without too much alteration to my appearance-” she said with a rueful laugh.

“With your head held down, in an outsized coat,” he reminded her, peppering the sentence with tiny kisses intended to reassure her, “and your hair in a queue, with whatever possessed you to do this-“

He touched one of the shorter locks of hair that still fell around her face. At the time he referred to, they had been a short fringe that fell only as far as her cheekbones.

He did not bring up that he had been miserably drunk when he first failed to recognize her.

“I wonder what I looked like when I first heard you,” she said, trying to suppress her laughter and succeeding only insofar as it sounded like she was suppressing a series of coughs. “It must have been something - I could not believe it at first -”

“I didn’t notice,” he said darkly. “I was somewhat preoccupied, as you might recall.”

“I was around the pillar from you. I couldn’t see you. I came in right in the middle of it.”

“Oh, don’t remind me-”

“Your voice,” she said, touching his throat and gazing at him, eyes not fully focused. “It took a moment to understand I was really hearing it, but you’re unmistakeable.”

“So I’ve been told,” he groaned. “I was not incognito for very long after they left me there.”

But despite this unpleasant reminder, he had no intention of letting this bog down their time together. His hands found the lacing of her shirt and untied it.

She gasped. That plucked her out of her memories, and how.

“It’s harder to ignore this, too,” James murmured, opening the lacing to expose her bosom.

“Well, now that I’ve stopped wearing jumps, I imagine-” she said in an attempt to seem still very composed, ruined entirely by her inability to breathe.

“Even in jumps,” he objected. “Though I can’t say I mind this- it’s not like stays, of course it shows in stays-”

“I’m flattered,” she said, flatly, but not flattered.

“And honestly, if one lives with enough men for long enough, stays lose their charm,” he added dryly. “That’s something I suppose you’ve been spared living among pirates- the spectacle of everything men have under their clothes-”

“I don’t have the slimmest fraction of an idea of what you mean,” she said flatly. “James, where - pray tell, if you know, if you’ve noticed - are the men, with whom I travel, from?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he said, waving it off. “That’s why you’ve never seen a man’s stays, or his stock-padding, or anything of that nature. That quite destroyed any eroticism a woman’s underthings might have had for me.”

“So you’re telling me I have more of an appreciation for that than you have.”

“I reckon so,” he said cautiously.

“I suppose it’s different, being one,” she said, with more nostalgic reflection than she realized. “Everything that’s a burden to wear on oneself is a joy to complain about with other girls.”

“It’s the one thing I was spared, I imagine, being put to sea so young,” he said, with a brief laugh. “The admiral saw no point in having me trussed up as a boy, and I suppose as I grew older I was too proud to go in for any of that.”

“Nothing would fit anyway,” Elizabeth remarked economically.

“That too,” he said flatly.

“Do you think you like women less because you’ve seen them so seldom?”

James frowned.

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m fond of women-”

“Perhaps in some kind of eccentric manner,” she said. “Haven’t you sort of noticed your feelings, as you describe them, are morbidly cool? I think I have shown more enthusiasm, and I am a woman-”

“I had other matters- other goals on which to train my sight,” he said vaguely.

“But for recreation-”

“I… I did seek it out from time to time, in port,” he said carefully. “To… relax. It was a far sight better than fumbling in the dark below deck-”

“It just seems to be - unusual,” said Elizabeth, choosing her words carefully, and noticing with dismay she had apparently driven him from his affections, “for a man to disdain every single female practice with an object of attracting men.”

“It never struck me as important,” he said. “Merely incidental.”

Elizabeth leaned her head cautiously on his shoulder, looking almost troubled.

“Would you like me to continue?” he asked, sitting up. “Elizabeth- please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I find you to be- well. Probably the loveliest woman I have ever met-“

Elizabeth flushed very suddenly, startled out of a reminiscence that resembled a daydream in most ways to be reminded of the present in only the most pleasing manner possible.

“Oh, James. That’s - I cannot imagine why, and you knew me all throughout my gargoyle years, too-”

“Your- Elizabeth, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, taking her into his arms again reassuringly, with his hand in her hair to match. “Gargoyle years?”

“Comedic exaggeration-” Elizabeth was almost affronted for a moment that he had read her as being so self-deprecating, but then again, if James had said something similar, he would have meant it. “Mostly in that I was a terror, and I heartily embraced it.”

“I dare say you’re back to that,” he teased, “but rather prettier this time-“

“It took a while to grow into my chin,” she said primly.

He kissed it, pointedly, and she burst into graceless laughter - probably spitting on him in the process.

“Stop!”

“I suppose you did. I never thought of it with that level of exactitude.”

“After all that you’ve told me,” she said, in fond exasperation, but with an emphasis on the exasperation, “I am amazed you ever noticed anything.”

“Perhaps if you’d dressed more like this,” he said, “I may have had a greater recognition that I would be far worse at concealing-“

“Dressed like one of your navy lads?” she said, smirking.

“If you insist on putting it that way, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“If I could have, I would have,” she said, realizing the moment the words left her lips how true it was.

She had wanted a lot of things, as she burned candles to nubs in her room at night trying to finish lurid pamphlets about pirates, dry books about ancient societies and illustrated texts about insects or whatever else it was she did as a child, and all of them represented the same thing to

her - freedom from everything she was being raised to be. She had stolen Estrella’s clothes more than once to travel into town incognito and if she could have pretended to be a boy the way she later had on the Edinburgh Trader, she realized, she would have - not merely for the greater freedom, but for the greater comfort as well.

“I endeavor to strike a better balance, in the future, between men and women’s dress,” she admitted, “and English and Chinese dress, too, for that matter - but for the time being - it’s bare breasts and trousers, all the way-”

“You know,” he said, pulling her down toward him, “this is exactly why I love you.”

Elizabeth gasped in affronted delight, then kissed him.

“I’m rather glad, though, that in your pursuit of that you didn’t deprive the world of this,” he added, lightly gripping her hair.

She shut her eyes, very briefly.

“Now that is my greatest vanity, and I cannot joke about it,” she said, clearly joking anyway, though she looked solemn.

“I don’t mean to suggest you would have been diminished without it,” he said, just as solemnly, “but I would have missed it all the same.”

He kissed a tress of it to emphasize his point.

“It’s permitted-” she laughed.

“Hm?” He was moving on to her neck now.

“It’s - oooh.” She shut her eyes and leaned into it. Between this and the placement of his hand, she did not know that she could form another sentence.

“I’m not certain I follow, Your Majesty,” he said as he settled on her collarbone. She bobbed in his lap like a piece of driftwood, trying, simultaneously, to stay situated where it would be most pleasant, and to get his mouth on as much of her skin as possible, but he was so damn tall.

“James,” she complained.

“Mm?”

“You have no right to be so good at this-”

“On account of the sexlessness?” he said dryly.

“Yes-” Whether that was a response, though, or a slip in her composure, was unclear.

“How flattering,” he said, kissing between her breasts.

“Does this - does this bother you-” Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly and hoped he said it didn’t; she didn’t know what she would do if he stopped.

“Which part-“

“The part where we aren’t- married-”

“Elizabeth- I don’t think we ever shall be-“

“I know, but you’ve always been so proper,” she said. The irony of saying this astride his lap and panting heavily was not lost on her. She reached for his hand and squeezed it over her breast, then pulled his head back by what little grip she could get on his hair and began to return the favor, kissing his throat, despite the beard.

James tensed and inhaled sharply.

“Pulling already-“

“It’s long enough-”

“Lovely,” he said dryly, though without totally losing his momentum. “Elizabeth-“

“Darling?”

“Give me a bit of warning next time, will you?”

“Oh, all right - next time I’ll just -”

She took his chin and jerked his head back - not hard, but suddenly. Then it was her turn to lavish attention on his collarbones.

“Thanks-“

He hissed a little.

“They didn’t do that so often in Tortuga-“

“Oh, darling -” She straightened enough to kiss him softly on the mouth. “ -- I’m sorry.”

“You’d no way of knowing.”

“Still stands.”

He kissed her in turn to show his lack of anger.

“...thank you,” he said softly. “I hope that does not interfere with your desire.”

“It’s a bit of a disappointment,” she said, then sputtered in laughter at herself. “I should probably be more concerned by that.”

“I look forward to thinking of you in the future, and not…”

He struggled for the right word. Failing, he settled for merely “That.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, touching his face gently with her fingertips. In spite of their present activities, she found herself caught off guard by him - him hoping for their future together, hoping for her desire. Sometimes she felt she had to catch her breath at how quickly things with James were progressing - currently it was a mixture of that and the way he looked. The sunlight in his eyes, his eyelashes - ridiculous right now.

“I look forward to thinking of you in the future, too,” she said, a little shyly.

“I’m honored that you should want me,” he said, looking up at her, eyes soft with gratitude, “even knowing that I’ve-“

“Yes, James?”

“-disgraced myself, for the sake of a few bottles and a place to lay my head,” he said, reaching for her hand.

“I don’t care about that,” she said, lacing their fingers, then shutting her eyes and sorting this out in her head. “That is I don’t… want, or like, or respect you less for it. I care that you hated it.”

“It was worst when I didn’t,” he said softly. “If I could, I shut my eyes, and tried to think of anything else. I told myself I was a boy again, fumbling about in the dark below deck, getting release.”

He averted his eyes.

“I even climaxed a few times, doing that. It was a small relief, for a few minutes.”

Without looking at her, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“I’d never done that as a boy. It was simply the nearest thing I could think of. On regaining my bearings, I felt worse for having even momentarily enjoyed it, and I’d drown the thought as soon as it came. I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Oh, James. Of course not.”

Elizabeth caressed his hair for a moment, then pulled his head down beneath her chin, which was just about the limit of how low she could bring him and how high she could sit. She had to take a moment to find words; ordinarily she was quick-witted, but this required more from her than wit. She could comfort him with her hands, though - one rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck, the other on his back. She just wanted to hold him.

“There’s no shame in bearing misery. There’s no shame in making misery bearable. What else were you to do? Die of it?”

“God knows I tried,” he said, with a weary laugh.

He closed his eyes again and let himself lean on her.

“I don’t want to any longer,” he said, after a long silence. “I don’t want to die.”

“Good,” she said. She snorted into his hair, almost more in relief than amusement, then kissed the top of his head. “Good.”

“Your patience is admirable,” he said, sitting up enough to face her again, hair ruffled from her ministrations. “I feel I ought to be more of a man than I am, for your sake, and that I am still regaining that particular suite of skills.”

“I find I do not require more or less of a man than you are. We’re good here.”

He kissed her again- slowly, tenderly, as though thanking her.

“It’s as though it’s a weight I can’t be rid of- something cold and heavy at my center that I thought I could exorcise when I regained my life,” he admitted. “It never left. I don’t know if it can. I thought I would be rid of it under Beckett. Beckett didn’t change a damned thing. Beckett only made it colder, heavier-“

He caught himself before he could become any more vehement.

“...it’s still there,” he said. “But it is not half so cold nor heavy, here. I feel as though there is something beyond that, something I’m regaining- I don’t know. That probably sounds foolish, but it’s something-“

“I believe you,” she said softly, watching his eyes with wonder in hers.

Her expression did not go unnoticed.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You look as though you’ve witnessed the Second Coming,” he said, smoothing her hair behind one ear.

“Bit of an exaggeration,” she said with a dry smile.

He smiled and suppressed a laugh.

“My apologies for the change of- we’ll say subject,” he said.

“Ah, well.” She laughed now.

“I will admit, it’s a relief to have finally said as much,” James said, nodding as though it were only dawning on him.

“I’m… I feel flattered that you told me,” she admitted, not certain he would take that well. “Like a secret confidence.”

“Whom else could I have told?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

Elizabeth kissed him. That was like a secret confidence too - especially as there was still so much she wasn’t ready to tell him.

“There’s nothing else to tell,” he said, with the dawning realization of how true that was. “We’re back to where we began, with you knowing everything there is to know about me. I have not acquired any especially desirable secrets since then.”

He looked at her and smiled his old, strained smile, which broadened out his mouth but never reached his eyes. It was the same hesitant smile with which he had met her reluctant acceptance of his marriage proposal.

It was true, Elizabeth realized unpleasantly - they had gone back to that. And again, Elizabeth’s secrets were about Will - and how much she cared for him. She avoided the guilt his smile brought her by pulling him into another embrace, staring blankly over his shoulder and slipping her fingers into his hair with a tenderness he would not know was an apology.

“I will not burden you with any further details of that sorry period in my life,” he said, rather briskly. “Having it out on the table is its own relief.”

“You know you can tell me anything you want to,” she said, scolding him a little.

“I lost the tooth in the alley behind the Three-Breasted Siren,” he said flatly. “There. Now there is nothing else to tell.”

“Navy hazard, one way or the other.”

“It’s lucky to have gone that way,” he said, with a grim half-laugh.

“Indeed. I think king and country have suffered a great loss with your defection. I wonder who the handsomest man in the Royal Navy is now.”

He grinned, too flattered to complain.

“Elizabeth, that’s hardly important-“

“It is the little things in life,” said Elizabeth in an affectedly vainglorious manner.

“I certainly won’t be the handsomest lad on the other side of the operation,” he said agreeably. “I believe that falls to you.”

“Low,” she said with a short laugh. “Very low.”

“Not as low as your shirt has fallen.”

“You untied it,” she reminded him.

“And quite intentionally so,” he said as he slid his hands into it and down to her ribcage.

“Do you want to do this now?” she asked quietly, putting a hand over his elbow to pause him without pushing him away. Her eyes sought his, even as she slid closer into his lap. “There are other things I like to have your company in than this.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I like speaking with you,” she laughed; “did you think I didn’t?”

“No,” he said, “but I believed you enjoyed other things more.”

“They’re still new to me,” said Elizabeth, coloring. “I can’t help it if I find them distracting.” She walked her fingers up his arm to rub at his collarbone again. She would have to express her gratitude to Giselle later for convincing James to dress like this.

“Now what-“ he said, affectionate and bewildered all at once.

She looked mildly irritated at him. As though he didn’t know. “Nothing.”

“What did you wish to speak of, then?”

“Oh, anything,” said Elizabeth, realizing that was what they were doing now with a mixture of disappointment and relief, and slipping sideways off his lap, she settled into a comfortable position on the bed, lying on her side, head leaning on her hand. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Rather more than that, at this rate,” he said as he leaned back down to pull the tray up again. “Or so I may hope.”

She graced him with a smile.

“Mutual mistresses,” she said, smile now showing teeth.

“There is a masculine term for that,” he countered. “Two, actually- though having learned them, ‘mistress’ may be the more palatable after all.”

“Enlighten me,” said Elizabeth, sticking her fingers into an orange.

“Kept boy,” he said flatly.

“Actually think Barbossa might have said that,” she said, managing to make sloppily eating fruit look erotic; the open shirt did not help. “Don’t properly recall.”

“Barbossa must be taking an interest, then, because he supplied the second as well.”

“He’s an old busybody. What was the second?”

“Some singsong Italian nonsense. Chee- cicisbeo? Something like that. It’s practically an occupation in Venice, by his account. Something to do with accompanying a married woman in public and whispering in her ear-“

“Probably knows that one from experience,” she said sagely.

“Rather rich, given the emphasis he put on how often such gentlemen are inverted-“

“Well I have no idea how upright he is, not to put too fine a point on it,” she said, moving to flop on her back. “What word do you want to use? I assume none of what’s been mentioned.”

“It seems they sometimes call cicisbei ‘cavalieri servanti’ instead, but that’s practically ‘knight errant’-“

“Why are you such a nerd? Just answer me.”

“I’m asking you,” he said heatedly. “Evidently my choices are limited to mistress or some bizarre Continental male concubinage-“

Elizabeth fell silent for an irritated moment.

“I told you you could call yourself my lover,” she said, when she thought she had collected herself. “You said you couldn’t say that.”

James tried to recall why that was, and realized it was undoubtedly some stupid stab at honor in a fit of pique. He would really have to work on that.

“Well,” he said, with cautious dignity. “I have changed my mind.”

That made her almost insufferably happy. She crammed the last of her orange in her mouth to hide her smile.

“If you find it suitable-“

“It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

“Even so-“

“James,” she said in exasperation.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Can you - can you do something for me?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she said, her irritation bleeding into affection and an overall incredulity that one man could make her feel such a wide variety of things all at once. “I need you to just - stop talking and be kissing me right now-”

He granted her request with a good-natured eye roll and a careful effort to navigate his large body over the bed without prematurely disturbing her, and stretched out beside her as well as he could to follow it with a few smaller, softer kisses. She slid her hands up his ribs, one sliding up his chest to slip into his hair, although in keeping with her promise, she didn’t grip it this time; the other remained where it was. During a lull in the kissing she broke away to kiss his neck again.

“Elizabeth,” he said softly.

“What is it,” she murmured.

“I’m only savoring the feel of your name in my mouth,” he said, in a voice so low he was nearly whispering.

“I would still like to feel you in my mouth,” she reminded him again, resuming her kisses and opening his shirt to give herself greater access.

“Elizabeth-”

It was his turn to sound exasperated, though having her pulling on his clothes like this was… not unpleasant, and his back involuntarily arched a little.

“I can be patient,” she protested. She could put her mouth elsewhere on him, at least for now. She had never undressed him with such excellent lighting conditions - by the time she’d gotten him out of his shirt on the Gloriana, it had been later in the evening. He was beautiful, of course.

“And to think, I thought I would be forced to warn you before our wedding night-”

“Of what, your breadth-” she snorted. “What would you have to warn me of that I could not see when you were clothed-”

“Sword-strokes. Bullet holes. The absence of the wig, before I knew how you despised it- it’s rather impressed on one in the Navy that one’s bride may be startled or moved to pity by even a man as relatively unscathed as I am, and thank God for that.”

Undressing was helping his state of mind after the unwanted shock of her pulling on his hair. Most of what had ensued in Tortuga had been either fully clothed or limited to dropped trousers and something to lean on. He had no actual fear of startling her now, even if she hadn’t already seen where his former glory had incidentally marked him- he quite thoroughly considered himself marked and not disfigured, with a mixture of pride and intense relief to have reached this point with someone he loved before the latter had a chance to happen.

“Of course, with you I feared more that you might pity me my former pain,” he admitted. He felt mildly self-conscious not being able to tell what his hair was doing in its partially grown-out state. In another lifetime Lettie Bolger had admired it long and then titched teasingly but not unfondly when it had been cropped for the wig. Either of those would have sat better with James’s fastidious sense of presentation than the uncertainty of whatever was going on now after Elizabeth had tried to grab it.

“Would that have been a poor quality in a wife?” said Elizabeth, a little sharply; he was probably right. Pity would certainly have come before desire, not least of all because at the time all she had wanted was Will, enough to smother any attraction to anyone else - at least until…

Certainly none of this mattered now, not when things had turned out as they had. She did not know when she’d ever see Will again, and if he was not in her future she did not have to force herself to think of him. At least she could make one of them happy. She distracted her restless thoughts by putting her hands on him, and then her lips, when enough of him was uncovered.

“I don’t desire to be pitied,” he said. “That you do not now is a blessing.”

“Then what do you desire?”

Admiration, he thought immediately, though his shame prevented him from saying so.

“It’s all right- keep at what you’re doing-“

“Not an answer,” said Elizabeth playfully, even as she obeyed him.

“I suppose I had once hoped you might find the wounds intriguing-“

“I would have,” she argued. “Maybe not the first night - it would have been a lot happening at once-”

“I doubt it would have happened on our wedding night,” he objected.

Elizabeth looked shocked by that.

“Why not? What else would happen on a wedding night?” she asked, vehemently pissed.

“What did you think, that I would throw you down on the bed and have my way with you?” James said incredulously.

“Hardly,” said Elizabeth, a little flushed, though one could presume that was from agitation with him. “I supposed you would have some short explanatory speech prepared and then fumble your way through it.”

“A dreadful imposition all the same-“

“What, you thought I was just going to lie there in terror? Dumb and silent?”

“I don’t know what I thought exactly, save that expecting it as a point of due course seemed… cruel.”

“I spent over a month preparing myself for the certainty, at the time, of marriage to a man I did not love; I wasn’t trembling in trepidation at the thought of touching you,” said Elizabeth, with the ghost of a sneer on her lips. But when she lay back, grumpily, on the bed, and looked him in the face again, it was all petulance and vanity on her face, and nothing crueler than that. “Credit me at least that I knew what I was agreeing to.”

“An agreement is not desire. If I wished for my love affairs to remain transactional, there are women for whom that would be simply another evening, but to demand that as an obligatory condition of marriage?”

He looked genuinely concerned by the prospect.

“No demand necessary; I already expected it.”

“Elizabeth, that’s horrific.”

“Why propose to a woman at all if you think it’s such a cruel imposition?” asked Elizabeth promptly.

“Companionship, for one-“

“You said you had Miss Bolger teach you all of those tricks so that you could ‘give me a memorable wedding night,’” exclaimed Elizabeth in an exasperation that bordered disgust, “now you’re telling me you didn’t even plan to consummate our marriage?”

“Not immediately- not by the time you had actually accepted-“ he snapped.

“Oh, so then you changed your mind? I suppose you thought I was too damaged by Captain Barbossa- in spite of all evidence to the contrary-”

“Your trepidation was clear,” James said, the familiar glare returning to his face. “That’s why. Because you seemed pleased but lacking in anticipation, which would appear to have indeed been the case-“

“I suppose then that in that, as well as in everything since, I would have had to have taken the lead!” retorted Elizabeth.

“If it had come to that, I would have gladly bedded you-“

“Oh! Good!” Elizabeth snapped, then faltered, eyes unfocusing. “Oh…”

James did not exactly roll his eyes, but he spent a good second or so looking as though he were trying to spot something just above and to his right while sighing in exasperation.

“Morbidly cool?” he said. “Is that what you think?”

Elizabeth, meanwhile, had folded her arms over her chest and resolutely stared into the ceiling until her eyes could pick out distinct shapes again.

“You’re full of pretty words, but when it comes down to the act, you are very aloof, and now you are telling me you never dreamed of me and did not, in fact, even intend to take me to your bed when we married; does that not seem to you an unusually chilly attitude to have towards women and love?”

“Is this another navy joke,” he said flatly.

“No! You are an unusual man!”

“I am merely temperate-“

He immediately caught himself and added, before she could, “Temperate in matters of sex, at least.”

“I would prefer something more complimentary,” said Elizabeth, still disgruntled.

“It may be that your understanding of what is usual is tainted by pirates,” said James, “and Sparrow in particular.”

“But that’s what I want,” said Elizabeth, now smacking him with her pillow.

“Elizabeth!” This was of course somewhat muffled by the pillow, which she pressed into his face in the few moments it took for her to swing her leg over his waist again. By the time he had pushed it off, she was able to lean in and kiss him. He closed his eyes and leaned up and into it, though as soon as they had parted he repeated, in some offense:

“Morbidly cool? Morbidly? Really-“

“Disprove it,” she whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear so it no longer fell into his face.

“Elizabeth, that’s not how it works-“

“I am just a blushing maid. You have to show me how it works-” said Elizabeth, smirking.

“Am I going to be tasting you, then?” James said flatly. “I thought you wanted the opposite.”

“I do-”

“That’s going to put the onus of proof on you, sweetheart,” he retorted.

“Oh, no, it’s quite the opposite,” said Elizabeth, with her lips moving against his as she spoke. “You see, James, you are going to have to endure pleasure for a change. Do you think you can cope?”

He began to laugh at this.

“Do you really think so poorly of me-“

“Yes, very.” She kissed him on the nose affectionately, then on the mouth with something far headier than affection. “...get it up for me, James?” she asked in a whisper, almost blowing the words across his lips, like smoke. Her eyes sparkled.

“You’ll have to help me with that,” he said, brushing her hair from her face.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, though she turned her head and caught his fingertip in her mouth somewhat intuitively.

“You can’t start all at once,” he said, as though lecturing her on the finer points of naval procedure. “Kiss me first-“

She was eager to do so.

“All right,” he said, breathing evenly. “You might try moving downward, very gradually-“

“Is this helping?” she asked, her own breathing decidedly not so.

“That was for luck.”

He grinned. Elizabeth snorted.

“James, can you tie my hair back first, it’s getting in the way-”

“You know I can, though I’ll have to sit up a bit-“

“Permitted.”

“How gracious of Your Majesty. Have you anything to tie it with?”

“No.”

She probably did, but that meant she had to get up, which she did, reluctantly, with a groan. She returned to him with a leather thong and sat on the edge of the bed, her whole manner betraying petulance. James sat up behind her and studied the situation at hand.

“Mm. I’d better plait it, or else this is going to get in the way,” he commented, stroking the shorter hair that fell around her face.

“Do whatever you must so that I may do whatever I want.”

The only way to keep the front of her hair in with the rest was to begin it as two plaits- one on each side- that began rather high on her head and then joined at the back of her neck, where he tied the loose ends together with the leather thong she had brought him. It wasn’t the neatest job he’d ever done, but it would do.

“Why do you know what you’re doing?” asked Elizabeth, feeling as self-conscious as though a maid were serving her.

“I’ve lived at sea for most of my life. One learns things.”

“Mm.”

“And I never was one for putting tar in my hair.”

“Mm.”

He rolled his eyes. “What now-”

“Oh, I know better than to say anything.”

“Oh, no, come out with it then-”

Elizabeth very delicately shook her head, seeing as she could hardly move it. After a moment, she endeavored to change the subject. “I used to do this with Amelia.”

“With- oh, yes.”

“Don’t you remember her?” asked Elizabeth, indignantly.

“It took me a moment. I was always more focused on you.”

She looked momentarily stunned out of concentration at that. “Well, not always.”

“In situations where she was present, typically-“

Elizabeth quickly flipped through the catalogue of memories containing James Norrington in Port Royal and found that, as much as she had believed herself to be aware of his intentions, she had clearly overlooked his feelings in nearly every instance.

“I wish I had known your heart sooner,” she said, sounding nearly wistful.

“You speak of her often,” said James, who was in no hurry to rake over the topic of who should have noticed whom again. Elizabeth colored at having this brought to her attention.

“I am…. Realizing things,” said Elizabeth, cautiously.

He leaned around her to meet her eye.

“Yes?”

“Busybody,” she exclaimed affrontedly, and flicked him in the nose.

“You brought it up-“

“...I suppose we have our Spanish acquaintance to thank for the revelation,” said Elizabeth, looking decidedly away from him now. “It is not frowned on for girls to be close. It is not scrutinized.”

“You-“

No sooner had he begun to ask what she meant did he realize he already knew. He leaned back on his hands.

“I see.”

“If she had been a boy I suppose it would have been extremely obvious,” said Elizabeth with a self-conscious laugh. “Though we wouldn’t have been permitted the friendship if she had been. I was inconsolable on her wedding day. Estrella told me I had, or would make, other good friends. I said it wouldn’t be the same. You know, it really did not seem unusual at the time-”

“Perhaps it isn’t,” he said. “Heaven knows I’ve seen such things between men-“

“Lends a new layer to my blindness to your feelings,” said Elizabeth, laughing feebly. She felt light-headed. “It is your fault I am thinking of this; you kept maligning stays.”

“You haven’t seen what most men have on beneath their clothes; it rather destroyed any eroticism stays might have held for me,” James said in blunt dismissal. “That does not assume the same of you-“

“It seems illogical to find so attractive on other women something one wears oneself without arousing any similar feelings, but, with all the clarity of hindsight, it seems I did,” said Elizabeth, now venturing to look back at him, very flushed beneath her tan. “Perhaps you have not seen stays and stockings in the right context.”

“In lovemaking. That’s what you’re getting at. Well, I have, and I remain unimpressed-“

The right context resurfaced in a memory of Amelia undressing before climbing into Elizabeth’s bed, which had not been an uncommon event when they were girls. Elizabeth could not stop bringing these memories to the light of day; they all seemed very different now, with all she had learned, or been teased over by James. Namely, the flirtatious way Elizabeth treated her friend - the little games they had played, rehearsing their wedding nights together - and the recurring jest that they ought not to get married at all, but run away and become bandits (or astronomers, witches, shopkeepers, seamstresses, circus performers - whichever new strange profession, or present chore, was on their mind at present, but for Elizabeth, it was always bandits, unsurprisingly). If Amelia had ever taken that seriously, Elizabeth suspected she might have, too.

“No, not lovemaking. Just… worn. But on the body of a woman of whom you are very fond, who is… who is talking to you, and about to slip into your bed.”

James wisely decided against arguing this point further and clapped his hand on her shoulder in a way he hoped was comforting.

She squinted at him.

“You’re taking this quietly.”

“It’s long past,” he said.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” she asked, attempting levity, but clearly anxious for his answer.

“Why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know, some notion of female sexual purity?”

“Elizabeth.”

He was practically scowling.

“Jealousy, more like. I thought you might be jealous.”

“Would you prefer I make a perfunctory attempt to smother you while railing about faithlessness or something of that nature? Personally, I’m rather tired for that-“

“Can’t you take anything seriously? Aren’t you in the least bit bothered, if not by this - then by Jenny and Angelica?”

“What do you want me to say, Elizabeth? I am trying to think well of you-“

“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “I suppose I keep trying to pick a fight and I don’t know why.”

“I suppose it would be dishonest to claim the idea does not give me some pause- but Elizabeth, I will not judge you-“

She gave him a wavering smile. “Oh… That does not displease me.”

“It would be poor of me indeed, after all that nonsense I witnessed in the navy, to treat this as some insurmountable difficulty,” he said, very firmly.

“That’s not what I thought you’d do,” Elizabeth laughed, smiling so widely all her teeth were showing. “I just thought you would be bothered. A bit jealous. Perhaps beg me to reassure you I still wanted you-”

“You wanted me in your mouth a few minutes ago.” said James. “I am rather reassured.”

“I still do,” said Elizabeth, leaning in and kissing him impetuously.

“Good.”

“I always thought it took very little to excite a man,” said Elizabeth, leaning in to push him onto his back again. “That’s what I’ve always heard.”

“That’s a good story for a man who wishes to conceal his poor longevity-“

“Oh, please. What does it take? Because it seems to be more work for you than for me-”

“It’s not as though I research it!” James sputtered indignantly.

“Still, you have to admit, this is a bit of a reverse from the usual,” she said, before moving her mouth to his bare chest again.

“Not the way I recall it,” he grumbled.

“Hm? What do you recall, then? Have you got more Lettie Bolger Life Lessons for me?”

“I recall it taking a good third of an hour to deal with anything below deck!”

“Suppose I have my work cut out for me, then,” said Elizabeth.

She prioritized his scars first, since he had alluded to them being an insecurity and she did, after all, like his body better for having them.

“What are you doing-“

He sat up just a little, then realized and lay back down. “Ah.”

“You don’t enjoy this?” asked Elizabeth, leaning back, somewhat hurt.

“I can’t feel much there- the nerve endings are quite gone.”

Elizabeth laughed shortly in surprise. “James, you said you would teach me. So tell me what you need me to do. Tell me… tell me what entices you.”

He stared at her.

“You, for one-“

“Apparently not enough,” said Elizabeth, finding the inside of his thigh and rubbing it.

James flinched and instinctively half-rolled his hips away from her, before realizing he’d done so and laying down flat again.

“You seem to want a very specific response-“

“Yeah? The one that enables this whole enterprise?”

But she had withdrawn from him regardless, resigned but seeming cheerful about it. “James, let me be the noble one, the one who does not require this as an obligatory condition to loving you.”

“Elizabeth-“

“You don’t owe me this.”

“I want you to have it,” he retorted.

Elizabeth smoothed the braid off her shoulder.

“Oh? Don’t tease me, James.”

“You don’t suppose we can reverse things and give me a bit of a running start, do you-“

“Reverse things?”

“Let me start off on you-“

Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. “I can’t say I am opposed, but - is that- really. Do you think that’s going to help, or are you anxious to be out of the spotlight-”

“It certainly worked last time,” he said, in a tone that could only be described as ‘grumpy’.

“Why didn’t you say so?” asked Elizabeth, in firm disapproval. “I would have sorted you out, you should have let me-”

“I wasn’t about to drag you into that!” he said with a horrified grimace. “As though it were some kind of automatic exchange-“

“James,” said Elizabeth, looking ready to have an aneurism.

“It was easier to think of you and your pleasure-“

“My pleasure is in being here with you. If that is all that matters to you you can stand by the bed and watch me pleasure myself-”

His eyes widened a little at that. He looked away.

“Well?” she demanded. “I tell you, I shall make good on that threat-”

“I would appreciate it if you did not,” James said, in a very low voice.

“Why, what do you think I do on nights where you’re not around-”

“Oh, God-“

He covered his face with the crook of his arm.

“Elizabeth, is this really necessary-“

“James, my God, you blush like a girl. I take it back! I shall pretend to be as sexless as a doll for your sake. Only let me see your beautiful face again-”

He wasn’t blushing when he lowered his arm, but his breathing was deep and a little too slow.

“Elizabeth- that’s- no, don’t do that-“

She backed off from where she had been leaning over him. “James. Look. I’m not trying to hurt you.” Elizabeth sighed and approached him from a different angle, lower down and leaning against him, resting her head gingerly on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. She tilted her head back to glimpse him. It wasn’t the best angle for it, but she thought he would prefer this. “Or- or scandalize you. If you aren’t enjoying it then neither am I,” and she meant it, punctuating it with her fingertip on his lips, like a kiss by proxy.

He let it linger for a moment and then gently moved her hand away.

“It would be easier to enjoy it if I had any assurance of yours-“

“In what way?”

“If you would please let me start on you-“

“James,” she laughed.

“Just how sexless do you find me?” he asked, aghast. “Good God-“

“I don’t think we are on the same page at all,” said Elizabeth, helplessly lost, but laughing about it still.

“That makes two of us,” James muttered.

“James, I don’t find you sexless,” she ventured to begin, after a moment’s pause and silence left them no further to understanding each other. “Perhaps a bit tepid, but you make a good show for yourself when you get up to it.”

The pun was wholly intended. Elizabeth leaned up on her elbow to whisper coyly in his ear, her fingertips lightly resting on his jaw. “And I do not mean to underrate the particular manner of joy you bring me…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Please understand, it’s- it’s complicated.”

“Would you like to tell me, Captain?”

“Is that an order?” he asked unhappily.

“It is a request,” said Elizabeth, settling against him again.

He moved his lower body away from her as well as he could, with a brief flare of panic that if she realized he was aroused that would be that.

“I would prefer to just- switch first, if that’s all right with you.”

“James, I understand that you are concerned about my reputation,” she said in frustration, “but-”

“I just told you the last time I enjoyed it,” he said, forcing himself to sit up. “Elizabeth. Please.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not opposed, I am just - concerned,” she said, looking up at him. “James, much as I love you for my dog, it brings me… far greater joy to know we are happy together.”

He nodded.

“I understand,” he said, turning to look at her. “But I fear it may be some time before that gives me the happiness you speak of.”

“This is ridiculous, I mean-” Elizabeth bit her lip again, this time to shut herself up. “Are you telling me everything?”

“It’s easier to know I have pleasured you first,” he repeated stubbornly. “It’s-“

He rubbed one side of his face with the flat of his hand, exhausted.

“Elizabeth, I just told you- in Tortuga-“

“Is that all it is?” asked Elizabeth in a flood of relief. “That’s it?”

“Am I some sort of weeping maiden for that now as well?” James asked sourly.

Elizabeth reached up and touched his cheek, a warm, open-palmed caress.

“I thought this was some fixation on that dog business!”

“Oh, God-“

“That you were neglecting yourself in my favor out of some need to debase yourself- oh, come down and kiss me, idiot.”

“Elizabeth!”

His offense did not prevent him from following her instruction. This was a welcome antidote to all of Elizabeth’s concerns; she could taste his tongue if not the rest of him, and finding his hands, she guided them up to her breasts - “because I know how fond you are,” she whispered teasingly to him.

“I’ll be better afterward,” he murmured. “It just takes… time…”

“Touch me, James-” She leaned upward to kiss him again.

“Mm.” He smiled into the kiss.

She was still nearly exposed, and all the lovelier for it. While it wasn’t exactly touching, James dipped down to kiss her on the collarbone, then back again to her throat. Her hands found his hair again, but pettingly, now, lovingly - he would have had none of that in Tortuga, she would bet. He leaned into it with a low laugh and gently kissed the underside of her jaw.

“Better.”

If it was her enjoyment he sought, she would not hold any of it back for the sake of propriety, or even a sense of building pressure, and so when he kissed her, she arched, and when he laughed against her throat, she moaned his name.

“Yes…?”

There was the lightest impression of teeth in that same spot.

Elizabeth had been making a conscious effort before. This wretched noise was purely involuntary. “James!”

“Too much?”

This wasn’t a sudden, severe blurt of concern, though; he spoke it directly against her throat, as though to kiss her bruise better.

“No,” she gasped. “I merely- cannot believe- James, this is very good-”

“Hm?” He was moving downward now.

“Going - bit fast, aren’t you-” She clutched at his shoulders helplessly, but did not stop him.

“There’s plenty in between, wouldn’t you say-“

“Oh- yes-” She struggled to maintain some authority, but she was having a hard time maintaining speech in the meantime. “I’ll - allow it-”

“By your leave, then, Your Majesty-“

Elizabeth let him kiss her a while longer, squirming underneath him, before she sat up in some agitation and yanked her shirt over her head, unable to take that nonsense any longer, thank you.

“Elizabeth-“

This cry of surprise did not prevent him from burying his face in her chest, which drew yet another wretched gasp from her, and she was soon after cooing his name.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said between kisses. “That’s another duty of mine, I should think-”

He lifted his head to look at her.

“Protecting this beauty-”

She scowled in the midst of it. “What.”

“I never said I would love you less without it,” he said, halfway muffled by a kiss on the hip.

“My looks, not my - mm. Life? Really, James?”

“I thought the second was already implied. Hence-”

Kiss, kiss.

“Another duty-”

“You are ridiculous- maybe one of my duties is protecting yours, hm? Wouldn’t that strike you as a funny thing for me to say?” she asked, slipping her fingers through his hair and pushing his head back via a palm against the forehead to look up at her, so that she could lift her eyebrows at him.

James smirked and went back to kissing her. She laughed out loud at that, and permitted this too. Her breath hitched in her throat, yanking her out of the plan to tease him further. And was it so strange to James to see things that way? A little weird, perhaps - making her feel too much like the maiden he had once seen her as - but she could put up with a little weirdness to hear James tell her she was beautiful again.

In the meantime, James’s hands had found the button flap of her breeches. He rubbed her hips through the fabric with his thumbs.

“May I-”

“Is this…” She struggled to form words again, and in this case found it especially difficult, for fear of saying the wrong thing. “...does this please you?”

“Very much-” he blurted, a little too quickly.

“Promise?”

“Are you… reluctant?” he asked, frowning.

“I want to make you happy - tell me you are-” Her voice rang small and vulnerable in her own ears.

“Yes, I’m happy,” he said, in a tone of good-natured exasperation.

“You have to say so!”

“Elizabeth-”

She was laughing, but herself exasperated, in her own way. “I can’t precisely tell-”

“May I?” he repeated, a little more emphatically. “Or are you going to sit there shirtless as a sailor-”

“I am a sailor,” said Elizabeth, muzzily and imperiously.

“Lisbet-”

It was unclear if this was an intentional diminutive or if it was just the muffling of his mouth against her hip again talking.

“One thing first,” said Elizabeth, moving herself to a sitting position by wrapping her leg over him and using him as leverage. (This had the unfortunate side effect of pulling his head between her thighs for a moment; she prayed he minded it very little.) Then she divested him of his own shirt.

“I don’t think it’s proper you should wear more clothes than me,” said Elizabeth. Now she was smirking.

In the bright daylight, the scars on his back were much starker, though by now James felt no need to remind her that they existed before she looked at him. He moved upward again, remembering her appreciation of the others- he could not imagine his back as anything but a neutral factor- and kissed her once more on the mouth.

Elizabeth pulled him to her waist and her hips like she was welcoming him back home, opening her mouth and her legs for him, opening her heart to him, and holding none of it back.

“May I say something?” he asked.

“Anything, darling, what is it?”

“Right.”

He nodded, as though catching his breath.

“...I love you.”

Elizabeth melted.

“Oh. Oh, James.”

“I hope that’s not too forward-”

She shook her head distractedly, then leaned up to kiss him again, urging him to believe she loved him too, even though she could not, not in this moment, bring herself to say it.

“-good,” he said, beginning to smile again, and then kissing her harder.

Elizabeth wrapped her leg around his waist and rocked against him, one hand exploring his chest while the other sank into his hair and gave her some leverage to kiss him back as good as he gave.

“And am I pleasing to you-”

“Can’t you- tell?”

“It’s good to hear it,” he volleyed back at her, more than a little smugly.

“I can barely breathe-” she gasped, which was true. “What more do- you want-”

“I want to hear you say it. Is that so much to ask?”

“I shall if - Tell me again that I’m beautiful,” Elizabeth commanded, without any sense of shame. At this point, they were long past shame.

“I shall tell you that as often as you like,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It would please me if you would tell me now,” said Elizabeth, turning his face to hers with her finger beneath his chin.

“You’re radiant-”

Elizabeth beamed at him, but brushed her hand over her own hair now, shyly. She had no shame, but she was not that brazen yet, either. “Oh, I wish I could have you, James,” she broke out unthinkingly. “Do you suppose-”

“-now?”

Elizabeth was reluctant to speak on it. “Oh, it’s not fair-”

“Elizabeth, what is it?”

“I wish - I want you inside of me-”

“I- Elizabeth, again, I’m very willing,” he began, “but if anything happens, the greater burden will be yours, and I don’t wish to heedlessly give that to you-”

“I know, I know- I’m not asking, I am merely…” She sought the right word, then happened upon it abruptly. “- complaining.”

She smiled at him in visible distress. It was unfortunately an expression he had seen her wear during their engagement, though this time, at least, she was happy to be with him.

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

“I could probably rut between your thighs,” he said uncertainly, “but I do not know what you would get from that. That’s more of a… men’s hobby.”

She guided his hand there instead, meeting his eyes and flushing for the sake of what feeble stake she still had in her modesty. She wanted to speak again, but faltered a moment, taking his hand and squeezing it while she sorted out her words.

“... James, let…. James, make me say your name. I want anyone passing by to know what you’re doing.”

“With my-” He took her hand and kissed it.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?”

“Whichever way you want, so long as I have you-”

“Are you certain you want it out in the open like that?”

“As though it isn’t already! Wouldn’t you rather be overheard pleasuring me than have it assumed I’m going at you every night with some sort of- I don’t know, implement? What do women use?”

James blinked.

“We’ll talk about that later-”

“Let them all know you are a man, then, hmm? As well as my dog.”

“Lisbet,” he groaned, and this time it was clearly intentional, though rather undermined by the kiss with which he followed it.

She accepted him with parted lips, fingers in his hair again.

“May I…?” he asked for a third time, and more softly and tenderly than before by far.

“Please-” she pleaded, eyes seeking his with as much vulnerability in them as passion.

James kissed her and began to lean her back on the bed again, pinning her wrists near the headboard as he kissed down her body in turn.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, more in private wonderment than to fulfill her request. “Good God-”’

Elizabeth squirmed again, pulling one hand free to touch him and maintain some sense of agency in all of this. She had no smart reply to what he said, though. She felt overwhelmed listening to it.

“I’m going to unfasten your breeches now. Are you ready?”

“Yes-”

“And your drawers after-“

It felt a little bit like her lungs were closing up. “Oh - yes-”

Her hair-petting approached frantic levels. He didn’t even get to it right away- with her drawers down, James had access to her inner thighs as well. He kissed one of them.

Elizabeth was already making good on her promise to alert anyone passing by the door to her cabin.

#potcsuggestions #pl: the black pearl #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #long post

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