1.

She takes it out carefully, fingers unwrapping the piece of cloth she always keeps around it, slightly brushing the hard surface to make it even more spotless.

It isn't dirty, she knows that, but this never stops her from treating it like the most treasured possession she owns. When she finally relieves it of it's binding, she makes her way to the mirror. It is still early in the morning and the tavern has not yet crowded with the usual clientele. She can take her time with this and relish in putting it on quietly, gazing at her reflection for a while longer than usual.

It seems even more beautiful than the last time she had put it on. Glossy pearls trailing to the pendant at the center, which hold on it's surface every color that appeals; greens, blues, and grays; the colors of the sea. She secures it behind her neck and, for a moment, pauses to wonder if she looks anything like her mother.

It's been several years, memory of her face fading with every passing day, yet each time she wears this it feels like she has clawed her way back in time. She remembers how it was clasped into her tiny hands by a smiling woman, golden curls much like her own framing her radiant face. If she holds any memories of warmth from her childhood, it is this one.

But this is not just any thing, so she saves it for special days.

With her father dissolving all business in Nassau, she has had to take a few steps of her own to make her dreams come true. The new consortium is her brain child, a thing that will finally allow her to break free from her father entirely. It is yet one more step towards her independence from that man.

She sighs as she brushes her hand over the pendant fondly, thinking if her mother would have stood proud of her today.

Yes, she assures herself. Today she can't afford to believe in anything less. Today she needs her token more than ever.

For luck.

2.

This morning as she readies herself, she puts on an intricate bracelet. It clinks pleasantly against her arm as she changes into her business attire.

Her face is all mischief, mind immersed in searching what best way to win his favor today. He is all hard exterior, yet she she knows how to get what she wants from him. There will be reprimanding, sure, but as soon as he sees this treasured piece wrapped around her wrist, he will cave.

Mr Scott always does. When it comes to her, there is so little he cannot let slide.

Giving Flint a thousand reales to win support was no easy task. Mr Scott is right, her father is sure to hear of this extravagance.

Even so, as her most trusted counsel, he never controls her. He doesn't know how. His hopes rely more on sound advice, most of which she comes to appreciate later after the cascade of mistakes that follow going against his word. This time, however, things are different. She knows she is right and he is wrong.

"They'd say it was inevitable," Flint's words echo in her head. She repeats it in her head like a chant, willing it to happen with every fiber of her being.

When she finally gets that gold and turns Nassau into a place it was always meant to be, he'll see. They'll all see.

For now, this bracelet will have to do. This incredible token he brought to her years back after her mother had passed; dark beads of different shades joined together on a golden wire, white sculptured charms suspended aesthetically at every turn.

For protection, he had explained to her once. Or so it was believed in his native village.

There wasn't much of his past or home that he let on. So this part of him she cherished and held close to heart. Only rarely would she use it as a weapon to melt his heart and have her way.

He takes note as she displays it nonchalantly, but doesn't say a word.

After all these years, he knows all too well what she aims to do by wearing it, but he takes the bait nonetheless.

Only this once, he finally bargains with himself. This one day to lend her his trust completely and see what becomes of it.

He shakes his head in defeat as she smiles back innocently, eyes ablaze with triumph.

3.

It isn't the only token Mr Scott brought back for her from his travels.

There is another one that she gave away long ago, one she now sees too frequently for her liking, adorned on Charles's wrist.

She wonders why he doesn't remove it and throws it away, given what happened between them. Instead he displays it proudly, all too pleased when her eyes rest upon it. Perhaps her annoyance is what he wants to provoke. Or perhaps a constant reminder of something long past but never forgotten.

She takes it in silently each time they meet, refusing to let her emotions cloud her judgement.

Refusing to believe there might be another reason why he has kept it all this time.

4.

The stone is white. Opal, she decides on closer inspection.

The ring is large, but looks fitting in her slender finger as he slides it in. At a passing glance, it may seem unremarkable, even dull, but in the light it's as if a galaxy of colors explodes on it's surface.

She plays with it, determining each color, memorizing each shade, at different angles and different times of the day. How the colors dance as she writes with her quill, how it sparks as her hands wrap around him, how it is almost like moonstone against the dark hue of her evening drink. In moments of weakness, she fidgets with it between her fingers, hoping to draw strength and resolve.

There are no special days to wear this keepsake; it is a constant, never leaving her finger.

As was their ritual each time he returned from sea, they meet at their quiet place by the beach. She settles on the sand with her back resting against his chest, his hands nestling around her. For a moment she takes offense when he brings out the token, almost kicking him for assuming she'll ever accept something that belonged to someone else. A piece from his latest prize, no doubt, one he's probably scavenged after the Captain's permission.

He is silent for a while, his gesture proving as difficult a feat as her accepting it. She's never cared for embellishments on her face or clothes, no kohl around her eyes to accentuate her features, no added color than what nature has already bestowed her with. If there is one thing he's discovered she coveted, it is these little accessories on her arms, her hands, and around her neck. So when his eyes had set upon this simple item, his thoughts had immediately rushed to her wondering if she might favor it.

A strange thing for a man like him to procure. He had noticed the raised brows around him but had no patience to satisfy their curiosity.

"Spent my share at Tortuga where we stopped for supplies," he gently fondles the ring in his hand, "Bought it off a stall. Wasn't the prettiest but I figured it's the best any pirate can get for honest coin."

Her scowl transforms into a beaming smile and she eagerly places her hand in his. It is beautiful as it rests on her finger.

As he lays her on the sand clasping her hand hard in his, she knows she can never part from it. No, she resolves, lips moving roughly against his; she will not wrap this up in cloth or save it for another day.

5.

She struggles to button her waistcoat in his tent now, fingers fiddling and still trembling from the passion that had transpired moments ago.

She can feel his eyes watching her and she knows what he'll do even before he does it. His hand reaches out to stop her, his finger resting on the white stone. When he presses it she knows he remembers that day as clearly as her.

It's been six years since he brought it from Tortuga, yet memory makes it feel much closer tonight.

His fingers intertwine in hers as he strokes the ring, leading it to rest on his chest. It's hard not to go back in time and relive that moment. A familiar sensation claws at her insides, warm and comforting, and she realizes she is as drawn to him now as she was on that beach.

As he brushes a loose strand of hair from her face, she finally musters the strength to look back at him. A look is all that takes for the walls she'd spent months building to come crashing down around her.

His piercing blue eyes, capable of sparking such fear and terror, are fixed upon hers with the same love and reverence she's witnessed so many times before. She can feel his intense gaze consuming her, piece by piece, and she is only too eager to satisfy her own craving. Bringing her hand to his face, she kisses him, every soft brush of his lips a taste of returning home.

A scream erupts around them and the spell is broken.

As is always the case, their treasured moments are hardly meant to last. She was a fool to think that this time would be any different.

She destroys him that night, eyes that had held each other so tenderly seconds before turning into fiery rage bound to consume them both in days to come.

When she storms back to the tavern, she walks up to the window, staring out as bitterness and fury seep through every pore. Her eyes fix upon the Walrus crew as they celebrate tonight's unexpected reward of more men and a ship; a different kind of token she had seized from him. One that shall flourish her ambitions but will likely haunt him forever.

Her hatred surmounts and it is a while before she notices how her fingers have been groping at the white stone. Her body has responded of it's own accord in the face of intense turmoil. Even in this moment, it is his token it latches on to.

Furious, she digs her nails into her skin and pulls it out. Grasping it firmly, she looks at it with revulsion. As she aims to throw it out the window, the moonlight catches it's surface, setting it aglow as it always does, bringing the universe of colors along with it.

Her hand pauses and she hates herself a little more.

Walking away from the window, she steps in front of her drawer and opens it. The cloth unwraps roughly under her fingers as she sticks the ring inside. Next to the pearl necklace and beaded bracelet.

To the knowledge of all crews on the island, she has won. But she saw the look in his eyes and she knows he knows the truth. When Max had cast her aside to go back to him, she knew.

And now, as her finger twitches and agonizes over something amiss, she knows she has never felt weaker.