Author: See!!!! Didn't I say I was writing!? See! I really like this idea, a lot!

Anyway, I'm assuming dates, the closest thing I've studied about the Caribbean is the slave trade. I know Port Royal sank and I'm trying to place POTC way before that…*eep* So please don't criticize me for lack of historical accuracy. You will see our trio come together, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own POTC.

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Lord Henry Farnsworth kept his place at his desk. Pudgy fingers continued to tap the oak desk in a silent tune that only he could know. The man's eyes dodged from the several scrutinizing eyes of the inquisitors to the documents that rested before him. They were the accusations the men had brought to him, accusations that could very well take his title away from him. In the center of the uniformed men was one who stood out from nobles and soldiers so clean and uniformed. His face was thin and gaunt, almost as though wax had been poured over blood, muscle, and bone and stretched over. The waxy look made him appear much older than he was, for he had barely been in the age of adulthood for three years. With his face dirtied, scars barely healed, and deadened steel eyes, he looked to be lost in both physical and mental realms.

My Lord, Spain has brought to England one of their people who has committed heinous acts against Spain," one of the uniformed men stated, "This man has been brought forth on the charges of targeting Spanish ships en-route through the Atlantic from orders of our country."

Farnsworth took a greater inhale of air at these words. He felt chilled beads of sweat break out and the air around him become more of a challenge to breathe in. Unconsciously, he cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. During this entire conversation, the accused man kept his eyes locked onto the lord's, making the air around him even denser.

"Senor Renaldo," Farnsworth said hoarsely, making his accent more apparent, "I am perfectly aware of the charges this man has been brought on."

"Then you are aware of the statements he has made?" the Senor inquired with his moustache twitching.

Farnsworth nodded to this.

"And what do you to say to this my lord?"

Farnsworth took another shaky breath, "I say…" he began, his voice unsteady, "That this man's accusations are purely false. England has no reason for attacking Spanish ships so suddenly and without reason."

The man in question exhibited the first obvious sign of emotion at Lord Farnsworth's words. His eyes had widened, and his mouth hung open as though someone had clasped their hands around his neck and taken his air supply. Disbelief and horror were streaked across his face as plain as the sun. At that moment he struggled against his captors, trying to shake them off. His resistance only resulted in his beating, bringing more unease to Farnsworth.

"If anything," the man said, his voice presenting more power, "This man," Farnsworth stretched his arm straight out with index finger pointed towards the prisoner, "Is nothing more than a traitor to England, his family has told me themselves that they have no son," he paused for just a moment to emphasize his point, "England gives him to Spain for you to judge…"

The man's resolve seemed to take a definite upturn from his subdued manner as his struggles resumed, "You lying bastard!" the man cried aloud to the lord, "I was willing to do anything for this country! Anything!" he continued to struggle, "You, my family! You'll all pay, I swear it, and you'll all pay for this!"

As the man was dragged from Farnsworth's sights, he continued spitting words of hate and vengeance to the Lord. To Farnsworth, this man was as soon as gone, nothing to worry about…

Absolutely nothing.

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Years later, 1668, England

The man smirked as he plunged the knife down, crimson liquid splashing upon his cloaked body. He felt all sorts of emotions rush through his body as he plunged the bladed object downward over and over.

Slash…

Ecstasy…

Jab…

Completion…

Stab…

And Hate

At last his work was done; he tossed the object aside and washed his hands of the blood. He spat upon the body that he had destroyed. As he departed the room, he uttered one word.

"Turner…"

The door closed and the candle extinguished itself.

And during the whole time, the lifeless body of Lord Henry Farnsworth stared unfocused with dead eyes. His eyes half lidded, odd indeed for a dead person, and only one word whispering throughout his departed mind.

Stone…

************************

Port Royal, 1668

It was another uneventful summer's day on the island of Port Royal. The small island that had once been ransacked by those of the Black Pearl and their Captain Barbossa had recovered from the incident. Mind you, the town hadn't recovered enough of course. A year had fled by since the incident, and the residents themselves had banned together to help repair the damage done to their beautiful port town. Of course, they had to, England was very wary of giving them assistance after hearing that pirates ransacked the town and that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had eluded them not once but twice. Yes, his Royal Highness had been utterly furious and it had placed Governor Swann in a rather tight spot. Residents of the mansion could be so lucky enough to hear him ranting up and down the hallways muttering, "Sparrow…in love with blacksmith…Elizabeth…" on a consistent basis. No one paid heed to these words of course. He had been the one to allow Sparrow to go.

Today had been actually a rather quiet day. Since most of the shops were up and running the people took their own personal holiday from the busy rebuilding to do something more recreational. Whether it be stopping by the baker's for some pastries or promenading about the town watching the beautiful scenery one could only find in the Caribbean, it was soothing to the soul and good for the body. However, there was one shop though where work was as plain as ever, the smithy. Not only had William Turner II taken on the duties that a once sober Mister Brown had carried, but he had also spent the days fervently working with the men on construction. That in itself was enough work, but he had been working hard to keep up on order that had unexpectedly popped up. It seemed that new weaponry was required and with Mister Brown rather…indisposed; it had been up to Will to fill in those orders.

Knowing this, it was easy to know what was going on within the smithy at that very moment. Easily, one could decipher that the constant clanging was that of a young blacksmith hammering upon a blade. Sweat ridden and exhaustion clearly written upon his face, he paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck back a curled lock. He had been working hours on end for these new swords and the late nights were starting to take their toll upon him.

Pound, pound…

He had grown quite accustomed to the sound of clanging metal, the smell of burning metal, the smell of hay and donkey, and the stuffiness of the smithy. Yet, there was one thing he could not be used to, the lack of his beloved…

Elizabeth

He had been insanely busy as of late that he had been able to see her as much as he'd have liked to. It wasn't that he was the hardworking man and that she was the dainty rich girl. Elizabeth had probably worked just as hard as or even harder than any other woman in Port Royal. Orphans that had been made in the invasion of the towns had no place to go, and she had demanded that her father open their large estate to them until the orphanage had been built on to. At least with construction going on he had been able to see her for she brought food to hungry workers. Also, she had gone under the tutelage of the good physician to help take care of patience that did not require so much attention as others.

He set down the hammer and placed the newly formed blade to the side where it could cool. The fatigue in his body took a definite upturn and the need to sit had become greater than ever. So, he took a seat and felt that he couldn't rise. The arduous process he went through to make all those swords left him exhausted. Even as the sound of knocking up the door struck his ears, he found he couldn't rise.

With a groan and an arm rising to cover his eyes he sight, "It's open!" he cried, still resting on the chair.

I daresay Mister Turner," the smooth, sophisticated voice that spoke caused Will to uncover his eyes and sit up, "Is that any way to treat your fiancée?"

Elizabeth Swann stepped into the smithy with a grin widening her rose colored lips. At that moment Will's own brown eyes absorbed ever feature of his beloveds from her curled copper hair down to her shoes. The sight of her gave him to vigor to stand and see her. Slowly, with support from the chair, he rose to greet her with a gentle smile upon his face of pure love.

"My apologies," he spoke in subdued voice.

The young heiress was no stranger to William Turner, ten years of his company was enough to teach her about him. She could tell what he was feeling and how he was feeling from his movements and his eyes. His eyes gave away all, whether they were burning with an intense passion or cooled down, showing nothing but kindness, they gave him away. At this moment, he was exhausted, overworked, and not taking care of himself.

She quickened her pace not stopping till they were face to face, eye to eye, "Will…" she brought up her own hand to cup his sweat laden cheek to feel great warmth, "You have been working yourself to death," and she gave him a peck on the lips.

He returned her kiss and broke away gently, "There's no need to worry Elizabeth, I'm just a bit fatigued."

Bit fatigued my stockings, she retorted mentally. He never was one to show his pain. At age thirteen they had been walking about the rocks and it wasn't until he slipped from exhaustion that she found blood staining an old bandage. It had turned out that he had cut himself during chores earlier, she had been furious that he never complained about it.

"I look forward to your visits, Miss Swann." He had said.

Naturally he wouldn't be any different, that's why she was here. She would care for him with all her heart, that idea alone was enough to make her giggle with anticipation to become his wife.

"So Will Turner," her gentle voice ebbing away and being replaced by a stern, orderly tone, "You will rest," she took hold of his hand and dragged him upstairs to his room, to where the water washbasin was, "You will clean your dirty face," she cooed and brought the wet cloth up to massage his dirtied face, "And relax for the rest of the day."

The way she stroked the cool cloth against his face practically lulled him into a sleepy cocoon. He was almost ready to mumble a soft "mmhmm" and collapse onto his bed. However, his duties as a blacksmith weighed heavily on his shoulders, snapping him out of his blanket of comfort.

"No I cannot," he protested in sluggish panic.

"You can," she assured him with both hands now on his shoulders, pushing him towards the bed, "And you will Mister Turner. Port Royal can live a day without her young blacksmith toiling away and making himself sick."

"There are orders to be finished," he begged, "Orders that cannot be ignored."

Elizabeth turned deaf ears to his words, "You will have your lunch. Then, you will walk with me," it was statement, not a question, "fresh air will be good for you, and sun. Then we will return and you will get some much needed and much deserved rest. You will not touch any hammers or swords for the rest of the day."

"Elizabeth, I have nothing good for you to eat," he hardly had anything good for himself to eat.

She smiled knowingly at this, placing before him a basket of foods, "I know that."

"Maybe I could finish one more order, then could I…"

Immediately, Elizabeth pushed him onto the bed as she set out the food. He had given up protesting to her demands and went lax on the bed. She smiled with amber eyes alight in love as she unraveled the food. As the scent of freshly cooked food struck his nostrils, Will felt his mouth water when the rich scent seeped into his nostrils. As Elizabeth watched him sit up, her lips widened at his sight.

"Come on Will, you need to eat."

It wasn't a candlelit meal by the stars, but it was perfect for him and wonderful for her. At last she could sit with him, her love. She couldn't help but hold his hand, knowing that he was safe here. She had almost lost him, and that had been too close. Never again did she want to come so close to losing him. Never again. Jack Sparrow hadn't come to see them in the past year, and she took that as a good sign. It was a sign that all was well, that no danger would come to Will.

Of course, it would be lovely to see Jack again…still, I'd rather have Will safe

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Governor Swann stood outside his balcony, watching the ocean wave lap back and forth. Truly, he felt as exhausted as ever, not only from duties as governor but from being a father as well. He had been on the receiving end of all sorts of grief from all ends. England sending him messages of heightening security about the port town, a result of allowing Jack Sparrow to escape no doubt. He spent many days arguing with his own daughter about almost everything and anything. William Turner was indeed a fine young man, a perfect candidate that most fathers would consider for a son-in-law. Gentlemen, a skilled blacksmith, an excellent swordsman, a brave man, positively devoted to Elizabeth, and just. One minor detail though…

Son of a pirate, assisted in the commandeering of a ship, and the intervened in the hanging of a pirate.

Pirate, pirate, pirate.

The boy screamed pirate! True, Weatherby Swann had never been one to point fingers, especially on young William Turner of all people. He knew the lad for as long as Elizabeth had when the boy had literally come on board in their lives. He had always been shy, particularly around Elizabeth. The Governor had let the two young ones play together for there was no one else her age to play with her. He had hoped that their childish delusions would disappear as they aged, but alas they did not. He knew Will still fancied Elizabeth, but living at the smithy he had learned his place in society and kept his feelings to himself. While his daughter continued to be ever so cheeky with him…

And now I am positive they wish to marry…

Yes, he wanted his only child's happiness, what father wouldn't? It's just that he hadn't planned on Elizabeth marrying someone so out of her class. She was happy, but would she always be happy? Could Will Turner, the blacksmith really take care of his little girl? Here in Port Royal where pirates lay when jolly old England…

He chuckled at catching his own self off guard.

How could one forget England? He couldn't for it had been where he had found Annabelle, where he had wed her, where she had given birth to Elizabeth, and where she had died. When the monarchy had sent him to Port Royal, it had been an exciting change, a way to escape from the place where Annabelle's ghost had haunted him so. He couldn't raise Elizabeth here when he himself was so distracted by the land. Instead of cloudy skies there were clear blue and sunset rose skies. Rain and chilly eves had been curtained by the humidity of the tropics. He knew it was here he could raise Elizabeth and here she had grown.

No matter whom she married

"Governor?" the air of thought was pierced by the voice of a timid child.

Swann muttered a few unintelligible phrases before even knowing the girl had come, "Mm, yes Amelia?" he said with a pleasant almost parental tone.

The young lady, barely out of childhood blushed as she handed him an envelope, "A letter had been sent to you from England," sure enough with a grateful smile he saw the letter in his hand was sealed with the royal crest.

"Thank you Amelia."

Weatherby Swann had come to find the girl quite sweet. If he had ever had another daughter maybe she would be more similar to Amelia. The girl was kind and gentle, as most of his servants were. However, being the gentleman of the house, he worked more with the butlers and such rather than seeing the maidservants. Though by appearance and in situations of great danger Weatherby appeared to be a bumbling fool, really he wasn't. One cannot simply blame a man for hiding in a time of danger for it is a human's nature to run. He was a decent man, and Amelia respected him greatly, because he was a parental towards her.

So Swann held the letter from the English Crown in his hand, his eyebrows creasing as he contemplated on what this letter could be. Most of what he received from his old home had been nothing but mad bantering of Captain Jack Sparrow, the town of Port Royal, Sparrow, the Black Pearl…

Did I mention Sparrow?

Currently, he wasn't quite in the mood to listen to his royal majesty chastise him to the grave. The frustration seething through Swann's veins was clearly visible as he began to almost shred the envelope. However, composure soon triumphed over less pleasant emotions. There was no need to upset the young girl, so he returned to opening the letter in a more tentative manner.

"So tell me Amelia, you wouldn't happen to know if this letter brings pleasant or unpleasant news?" the governor inquired as he opened the envelope.

"I-I'm not sure sir," the servant replied with a quivering voice typical of her, "But I heard sailors at the dock speaking about some sort of unrest…"

Weatherby let out an inaudible mumble at this, "Hmm, I fear that anymore bad news and Port Royal will have to find herself another Governor."

"I apologize Governor."

"Oh pish posh, pish posh Amelia," he responded with a wave of his hand, "That's all it is with this bloody conversing."

Admits the exchange of words, he had at last opened the envelope. There was less writing than usual, which could possibly be a more positive sign. Usually the court sent a few words telling that if Port Royal didn't shape up on the trade route that she could expect no assistance in further problems. His own eyes clouded with exhaustion skimmed the yellow tinted paper, until he saw one word that caught his eye…

Murdered

He felt the worst of chills overcome his body when he saw these words. "Murder" was a word most foul indeed, but nothing foreign to Europe or the Caribbean. So whatever was going on, it was urgent and it was close to him.

Weatherby, the letter began with his first name.

Weatherby,

I apologize for sending this, but it is your right to know what has been going on.

England is well, but it will not last. One week ago, Lord Henry Farnsworth was found murdered. The coroner stated that it had been due to several stab wounds all over the body. This in itself is horrifying for you know quite well that Farnsworth has been retired for quite some time now. So no one in the court is able to understand why someone would murder him. There was also a report of no struggle, it was as though Farnsworth had just lain on the ground and let the killer slash at him.

Weatherby, this may be the work of pirates or some other vermin. It may be essential for Port Royal to be aware of this. You are his friend and Port Royal is your charge so you must be aware. If you have any information please write back as quickly as possible Weatherby…

The letter fell from his hand…

Henry was dead

An old friend of his had been savagely murdered. Henry had secrets, secrets associated directly with the crown itself. Farnsworth, York, Harding, Williams…all of them had been friends, mostly connected by Annabelle. Now, one was dead. He hadn't felt thus uneasy since Elizabeth's capture. Now this?

Time and space seemed to blur together as images in a puddle. He felt so numb, as though he was just standing there while nature continued its course. He hadn't even noticed the disappearance of Amelia that was soon replaced by the stiff postured Commodore.

"Governor?"

Norrington's voice was quick and harsh, uncomfortably yanking Swann out of his dazed state. The Commodore had no time for such things. It wasn't that he held any animosity towards Swann, Elizabeth, or Turner, nothing like that at all. Norrington was most definitely too much of a gentleman for such dishonorable acts. He had to work more than ever due to England's complaints to increase guard around the island.

Weatherby nodded his head dully, "Yes Commodore?" his voice was coarse with all of life's burdens.

"You called for me," Norrington stated expectantly.

The elder of the two smiled, "Indeed I did."

Yes, indeed it was to Swann's relief that Norrington held nothing against him and his daughter. The man had the picturesque husband for Elizabeth in his mind. However, it was no he who was marrying the Commodore and nor did he intend to. He and his daughter were two very different people; the only thing that was relatively similar about them both was their stubbornness. Other than that, there were very few barely visible features one could find between them. Still, he could not understand what Elizabeth saw in Turner that wasn't present in Norrington…

Love

Something he had felt a long time ago, but now he felt grief. For there had been too many tragedies in his life, and another had struck.

"You have heard by now of England's news?" he inquired, in a more efficient tone.

The Commodore nodded to this, "I have."

"I was hoping to have a more lengthy conversation with you," Swann informed him, "However, due to recent events, I need not be as eloquent with my orders as usual?" he asked with a single busy eyebrow tipped upwards.

"I shall see that no pirate is able to set foot on this island without a bullet in their head and a noose around their necks," he proclaimed with all out passion, "I assure you Governor that we won't have a repeat from last year…"

At times Norrington could be a son, shy and unsure about emotions he had never felt. Sometimes, an officer, ready to defend Port Royal to the death. He had many faces, he had been prepared to take off the mask for Elizabeth but didn't. Yet, as devoted as he was, Edward Norrington would not be able to fix Port Royals problems.

Still, Swann smiled with the utmost confidence in the man, "I daresay that you will be the one to end piracy?"

"One can only hope…"

"Commodore," Swann began with a tense look, "Do not try to take on that burden, just do what you are told."

"I shall, good day."

"Good day," Swann nodded.

In a quickened stride the Commodore left Weatherby Swann to his own grief. He had to walk forward, never look back for if he did it would only gain him death. The premonition of trouble seemed to tug at his inner conscience, as annoying as a fly. Of course he slapped these thoughts away just as he would do with a fly and continued on his way.

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While her own father wallowed in the despairing news that all officials faced, Elizabeth herself was basking in her current moment.

Her she was walking about the port hand in hand with the man she loved more than ever. He seemed to be more refreshed after eating a good meal, though his eyes still contained a bit of dullness from exhaustion. She could see that the fresh air had been good for Will. At last he had escaped the stifling air where he had worked for hours on end and out into the fresh sea tinted air. It was obvious enough that he had not had a decent meal when he devoured his lunch.

The docks of the small island flourished with all sorts of trade ships docking and departing. Traders came carrying in all sorts of trades. It wasn't uncommon to see people strolling about the area, for it had an excellent view of the very sea that encased the islands. The sound of the waves swaying along with the warmth embrace of the sun created their perfect romantic walk.

Then, a mysterious light overtook Will's face which did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth.

"What are you planning Mister Turner?" she asked with an enticing spark in her eyes.

He clasped both hands in his own and smiled, "Follow me."

They ran and people stared…

People stared, but they did cared. Both Will and Elizabeth had grown accustomed to the constant stares and whispers of the people. Whispers of classes, of blacksmiths to socialites, and of course pirates. It was something to be expected, so they did nothing but continue running down below the docks.

"Will, what is it?" Elizabeth asked with a wide smile planted upon her face.

"I just though it would be nice for us to be away from the crowds…"

Something they both wanted, the idea of their privacy made her rose colored lips curl even higher, "Really?" she said wrapping her arms around her lover, "Well I dare not protest to that."

Their noses touched the other's, both not able to control their facial muscles. Both were positively beaming with emotion. Then, Elizabeth couldn't help but speak with her smile turned down to a frown.

"I shall not become a foolish girl under your gaze Mister Turner," she stated in a mock disciplinary manner.

The young Turner's eyes widened in false innocence at her words, "Is that so Miss Swann?"

"It is," she replied with eyebrows raised before relaxing and giving him a soft kiss, "You do not know how lovely it is to do this," she spoke in a tender, loving voice, "We have not been together for quite some time…"

"I know Elizabeth, but I have responsibilities that cannot be ignoring," he replied, tightening his loving hold on her.

She smiled, but still had to continue, "But Will, you do not have to throw yourself into your work. You do not have to prove yourself to anyone…especially my father."

Something Will had been reassured over countless times. He knew Elizabeth's love ran deep, but he didn't want to force her to break away from her only family. He had no ties to his family, not knowing anything of his father or his mother. In fact his mother never spoke of her family, so Will knew nothing of family. However, Governor Swann exhibited no hints of approving of him as Elizabeth's husband.

"I know Elizabeth, but it's not that…"

Completely and utterly untrue, Will thought to himself.

Elizabeth seemed to know this too, "Will, why do you torture yourself? We do not need this, we should be happy, we should be…" she stopped herself from saying the one thing she wanted more than anything, marriage, "I mean we shouldn't have to worry, you shouldn't have to worry."

Will's own dark pools delved into Elizabeth's own amber eyes. Both could see a love that no longer was forced to go unrequited. They way they expressed it was of pure, chaste kisses and soft touches that never went too deep. Will was too much of a gentleman to allow his hands to wander, and sometimes she wished he wouldn't. Yet, here they were, together.

"If I must worry than I would rather it is about you," he whispered.

And they kissed…

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And the two parted from their kiss.

The man, barely into manhood, who bared familiarity towards a not yet born William Turner II, looked up at the woman.

"Gabby?" he asked, with a gentle voice not usually used by him, "You alright?"

The young lady's breathing came out in strides as she touched her fingers to her lips. Her ivory silk face was tinted with deep red and her normally calm exterior had vanished. The only thing kept was her curled chestnut locks while her crystal cerulean eyes widened as they eyed the man. Still her fingers caressed her lips, the shock of feeling something such as that wander in her lips…

"What…what," her voice came out in a loud whisper, "What on earth was that Bill?"

With a chuckle and a mad grin, Bill Turner cupped his love's cheek with his own coarse hand, "That my dear was a French-Kiss, where you use your tongue, love."

The blush that had overcome her seemed to spread, "My," she stated, still winded from this "French-kiss", "The French most certainly do love to kiss…"

Though a buccaneer, William (otherwise known as Bill) Turner had learned to be a gentleman. Except for that kiss that both had been completely engrossed in. He held her hands tightly with apologetic eyes.

"Gabrielle, I'm sorry, did I go too fast?" he asked, sounding as a true proper Englishman would.

Immediately she shook her head side to side, bouncing the waves of hair, "No, no," she spoke hastily, "It's just," the blush had overcome her yet again, "Well…you're the first man I've really ever felt this way for and that was so new…but I'm sure you've done it before."

"Kissing?" Bill stated, "Yes, but I haven't kissed like that," he finished with his signature grin, "Something I heard about."

"It was wonderful, but perhaps we could save it for later," she giggled, "This is still new to me."

"And it would be bad for such a scallywag to influence such a proper lady, eh?"

Gabrielle frowned at this, "Do not quote my father Bill Turner," she whispered as she pressed her forehead against him, "I am the one who chooses, not him, even if I must forsake my family."

"Let's hope that is not the case."

"To hell with it," she mumbled in an innocent manner.

"Well," Bill said, positively shocked by this, "Maybe you need to meet Jack."

"Jack…"

She tested the name on her tongue, "Well then."

"I suppose I should go then, shouldn't I?"

They share one last kiss, hoping to hold on to each other for just a little longer. Still, they had to break away and they did. At that moment, Bill placed his lips beside her ear.

"Gabrielle York," he whispered, "I will marry you."

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Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Remember, there's more coming and Jack will be appearing soon. Until then, goodbye!