Almost two years ago, we, the fans of PotC, were introduced to Davy Jones and his fishy lot. Despite their success and the fact that I own all three movies, I decided that they needed to be 're-done'. Hence, Treachery was born. So, strap yourselves in and hang on for a wild ride!

A/N: This is story is AU since Cutler Beckett, the EITC, the Flying Dutchman, and Davy Jones are not involved. But did we really expect Will and Elizabeth to keep themselves out of trouble? I didn't think so... :)

Disclaimer: Nope, Will, Elizabeth and all their Piratey friends belong to Disney and not me. Sorry.

Treachery

Chapter 1: Foreign Rebellion

The sun rose lazily over Port Royal this warm spring morning. The black sky dotted with tiny flickering stars melted away in a fury of red and orange. The beams of light lanced through the puffy clouds. Stretching its brilliant fingers towards the earth, it bathed the houses and shops in a wreath of golden luminescence, waking the inhabitants.

Slowly, gray smoke rose from chimneys and the narrow dirt roads filled with activity. The air, though humid, was clean and fresh as the day's people heading to their various workplaces had not churned enough soil yet.

A smithy, the dark interior cool and but immaculate on the very outskirts of town lay quiet still. The hearth lay cold and only the previous day's ashes rested there.

A brief walk away was a house, its white front and wrap around portico void of humanity. The modestly furnished building was small but spacious enough for a family. If one looked closely enough they would see a balcony door open on the second floor. Gauzy curtains, enclosing the two glass doors edged with polished wood, shuddered in the breeze.

Just inside the attractive room sat an equally attractive woman on a plush chaise positioned to watch the town and sea below awaken. Her golden-brown hair was scooped up into a loose bun, a few curls laying on her neck and shoulders for the wind to toy with.

Elizabeth Turner breathed in deeply of the crisp morning air as her eyes watched the ocean beyond the shops and houses. She, being a late riser, normally would have slept in a few more hours but the baby had been incredibly insistent that she rise.

Her hand fell to the bulging lump on her waist. A moment later a little foot kicked hard against her womb and the soon-to-be mother smiled. Nothing seemed amiss this morning.

The sun shone with strength now on the Caribbean landscape and the sky was a brilliant azure. Tall tropical flowers lent their sweet scent to the soft breezes and it snaked up the hill to the comfortable home Will had bought just before their marriage three years ago.

Elizabeth's amber eyes flitted to the bed behind her. Her husband lay sleeping peacefully. One arm was strewn over the empty pillow to his right and the other plopped over his face to shade it from the brilliant beams of golden sunlight spilling across him.

"Will," she called gently. It was almost nine o'clock. High time he started to get ready for a day at the smithy.

He groaned in response.

"Will," she spoke a little louder, and moved to pause at the bedside next to him.

He groaned again.

Elizabeth thought for a moment and grinned as an idea came to her. "Will! Pirates!"

That did it. He shot up; eyes wide, curly dark brown hair poking out at all angles. "Wha'? Wh're?" His tongue wasn't so eager to spring into action and it slurred his words together.

For a instant Elizabeth wasn't sure that it had been the most brilliant plan of action but she had phase one completed. There was no retreating now. "There aren't any pirates, Will, unless you count yourself."

Will blinked at her then flopped back onto the bed, sliding a pillow over his ears. A phrase unclear through the feathers and cloth but still understandable floated back up to her, "Lisbeth, don' do tha'. I's too early."

"Will!" She leaned over and snatched the pillow away. "It's time for you to be at the smithy."

Something that sounded remarkably like a curse emerged from the second pillow he had burrowed under.

"William Turner!" Elizabeth gave him a swat on the shoulders. "There will be no foul words in my house." She sat down on the bed next to him and gently eased the second pillow away then tossed it behind her.

"Come on, Will," Elizabeth brushed the dark, stubborn curls near his forehead away and laid a kiss there. "Get up."

"Don' wan' to."

Now, Elizabeth knew that her husband was no sloth and this was incredibly unlike him in refusing to wake but this had gone too far. There had to be a good reason for this or someone was going to be in trouble. "Will, what time did you go to bed last night?"

"Dunno."

"Will,"

There was a grunt and then, "few 'ours 'go."

Elizabeth's jaw almost dropped. "What in heavens name were you doing out so late?"

"Workin'. Navy. 'mergency. Needed somethin'." The words grew softer with each syllable.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn' wan' you tired."

Elizabeth, feeling a little guilty, crossed the room, bent over her growing belly and scooped up the two pillows to replace them at Will's side. "I'll tell Isabella to run down to the shop and post a note saying you won't be in today."

Only deep, even breathing was her reply.

The last dish was set on the lunch table and Elizabeth plunked herself down in front of the veritable feast, smoothing her plain brown skirts as she eyed the food. Cold chicken, fresh salad greens, a glass of lemonade, a baked potato and the last slice of apple pie.

Her appetite had been craving the strangest things. It was only yesterday that she simply had to have a bit of fresh mango. She hadn't been able to eat the soft fruit often but had loved the few times she had been able to do so.

With a loud growl from her stomach she sent a prayer heavenward, thanking the Lord for the food, then loaded her fork with a large bite.

It was at that instant that the door knocker sounded.

Feeling slightly irked, she stood and ambled to the large doors as Isabella was still out, leaving her and Will the house. Slowly, she pulled the wooden structure back and stared out at a group of about ten uniformed soldiers. "May I help you?"

"I believe you can." The captain stepped forward. "Is this the home of a Mr. William Turner?"

"It is." Elizabeth grew wary. She did not fear the law. No, indeed, she knew many of the soldiers in Port Royal by name. But these men were different. She had never seen them before.

"We need to speak with your…"

"Husband." She supplied the title with little courtesy, still hungry and irritated.

"Yes, may we see him immediately?"

Elizabeth let the door discreetly close an inch, uncomfortable with the way they glanced behind her into the quiet home. Besides, Will was still sleeping soundly and she wasn't going to wake him for these men. "He is unavailable right now. Perhaps there is something I can assist you with."

"I believe our business lies with Mr. Turner and Mr. Turner only." The captain's eyes flashed with annoyance but the emotion was quickly smothered as she didn't budge an inch. Seeing that she wasn't going to open the door, he tried a different avenue. "Perhaps I should introduce myself."

"Perhaps." Her tone was ice.

"I'm Captain Grant Hawthorne of His Majesty's Royal Army."

"Elizabeth Turner." She nodded curtly.

"Now, ma'am, I must speak with your husband."

"If you have a commission for him you may leave the specifics with me and I will be sure he gets them."

Captain Hawthorne shook his head. "Mrs. Turner, I don't believe you understood. We have a…proposition for your husband."

"And I am his wife. I'm sure I can answer any of your questions perfectly well and if not I shall have my husband come speak with you on another date."

"The heart of the matter is, Mrs. Turner, your husband has been suggested for service due to his extensive knowledge of weaponry."

"What?" Elizabeth's heart threatened to leap into her throat.

"He is to be drafted, Mrs. Turner."

"Captain Hawthorne, he is soon to be a father." Elizabeth let the door fall open, showing her six month pregnant self. "You cannot possibly suggest-"

"Mrs. Turner-"

They were both cut off by a sleepy voice from behind, "Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth turned to see Will, in a plain, white cotton shirt and clean breeches, standing in the middle of the staircase. His chocolate brown eyes were blurry from sleep or rather the lack of sleep. It was obvious that he had just raked back his unruly hair and tumbled from bed to discover what was happening without even stopping to put on a pair of stockings. "What's the matter?"

"Mr. Turner!" Captain Hawthorne barreled his way past Elizabeth and into the house, two soldiers in his wake. "Excellent."

Will blinked, taken aback by the man's audacity. "I don't believe we've met Mister…"

"Captain Hawthorne of His Majesty's Royal Army."

"Ah." Will moved down a few steps. "How can I help you?"

"Congratulations, Mr. Turner," Captain Hawthorne smiled broadly. "You have been selected for service in the Army."

Will's brow creased. He traversed the last two stairs and wrapped his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Captain, I don't believe I heard you correctly. Service in the Army?"

"You heard correctly, sir."

Will chuckled a little at that. "Captain, I'm sure my wife has pointed out that I am to be a father within a few short months. Surely there is someone better suited to the task, a gunsmith perhaps-"

"You came highly recommended."

Will's face creased in surprise. "Though I am flattered, I cannot just leave my family."

The Captain showed the first signs of frustration. "Mr. Turner," he fingered the finely crafted sword at his hip, "it was not an offer."

Will's own temper peaked. "Has His Majesty's Royal Army resorted to threats to gain troops?"

"Mr. Turner, you will decide now. I would suggest for you to agree. If not then I will have no choice but to forcefully remove you from this establishment."

"Captain Hawthorne, this is not an establishment. It is my home." The tone in Will's voice was just as deadly as the captain's. "I am the town blacksmith and have been for several years."

"I will ask one last time then I must give the order for your immediate removal from the premises."

Elizabeth's face couldn't have been whiter and her temper, while hot, was squelched by the crushing amount of fear washing over her. What if Will had to leave her? No, no, no! He wouldn't leave…he wouldn't leave! She repeated to herself a little more forcefully.

Will seemed to war within himself, as if his temper was near flooding point. Yet he composed himself and when he spoke it was very carefully and calmly. "It seems I have no option but to come with you. However, do not expect me to serve. I will speak with your commander and get this all straightened out."

The captain pursed his lips but did not protest, "very well." He stepped to the side of the door, indicating that Will should leave and that he would follow.

Here, Elizabeth could stay silent no longer. "Will! No!" she whirled on the soldiers, "You cannot take him away! He hasn't even eaten this morning! Surely he can re-join you later if he must!"

Hawthorne glanced from Elizabeth to Will, as if gauging whether they could be trusted or not. "Taking into account the fact that you are not keen on this proposition, I believe it would be best for you to come now." He spoke at last.

"Give me a moment with my wife to get some breakfast then I shall go where you want me to but only to settle this business. Let me make it clear that I intend to stay here with my family." Will stared the man down, dark eyes hard.

Hawthorne was the first to falter. "How do I know you will keep your word?"

"Ask anyone around here. I am trustworthy. And besides, you said yourself that I came recommended, don't you think it would be a bit strange to be that highly regarded but unable to keep my word?"

Captain Hawthorne's face reddened slightly in agitation. He stepped back crisply and nodded. "Very well. Report to the Fort Charles in one hour." Then he and his men turned crisply and marched off.

Elizabeth slammed the door shut and leaned against it, closing her eyes. This could not be happening. What if he had to leave? What if he missed the baby's birth? What if he was killed? No! She stemmed the tide of horrible questions.

"Lizzie?"

Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Will looking over his shoulder, paused on what looked like a trip to the kitchen.

"Are you alright? You look pale." He pivoted and moved to touch her cheek. "Perhaps you should go rest."

"No, I'm fine." She endeavored to smile up at him.

"This is about the soldiers, isn't it?"

She nodded slowly, reluctant to admit her disquiet.

Will's hand fell to take hers. "I'm going to be back, Lizzie, it'll take a moment to get everything all cleared up. I'll speak with Norrington and be back in time for lunch. It's just some mix-up foolishness, likely some clerk's sleepy blunder."

She tried not to be bothered while they entered the kitchen together, chatting as if the world had never been better. She tried not to watch him constantly, afraid that this might be the last time she laid eyes on him. Yet she stared as he drank a mug of strong tea, stared as he ate an orange, popping the sections into his mouth one by one.

The little things she noticed more than usual. The way his work-roughened fingers slid over the dishes as he cleaned them, the persistence with which he scrubbed a spill on the floor since she couldn't reach it with her growing waistline, and most especially the way his lips quirked when he found something amusing.

One who hadn't spent much time around him would have thought nothing was amiss, that he was perfectly relaxed and calm, but underneath the surface laid a tension that was barely felt but still present. His chuckle was a touch louder, his smile a bit wider, his words a bit more pronounced. The simple fact was that he was nervous and he was being strong for her account.

And that made Elizabeth all the more upset and ruffled.

Her eyes wouldn't leave him as he pulled on his boots, waistcoat, and overcoat. He wore no hat but yanked back his hair rather intolerantly and tied it off firmly. He had never had possessed much patience when it came to his hair.

When he headed for the door, she ran after him. He leaned in for a kiss then grinned, opened the door, and vanished down the lane. Still, she stood there, clutching her sides until the fabric beneath her palms was damp with perspiration. She had not eaten when he had and now the very thought of food sent her stomach spiraling down to her ankles, or so it felt.

Finally, she spoke aloud, "stop it, Elizabeth. He'll be fine. You worry too much." She returned to the parlor and picked up a book, intent on putting all troublesome thoughts from her head. But all the while she couldn't help fighting off the foreboding cloud that seemed to loom above her home.

Captain Hawthorne thought himself to be a kind and forgiving man. Why, he had even given that horrid woman and her husband some time together. But the way that…blacksmith had challenged him, had outsmarted him…it sent fury shooting through his veins.

He was used to complete and instant obedience from his subordinates and this Will Turner was blacksmith, a blacksmith! He was Grant Hawthorne, a captain!

The walk to the Fort wasn't long and he stormed into his temporary office, provided by the Navy, aides ducking away in fear. They all knew of his fierce temper and his substantial influence in the military. They also knew of his talent with a blade and were in no hurry to find themselves at its point.

His face twisted in wrath, he flung his tri-corn and wig into a chair near the fireplace and began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

It was something he did to regain his composure. A military man, such as he, was not to ever lose control of his emotions. On his ship he was allowed to vent himself in other ways but not here, not before the venerable Commodore Norrington.

Gradually, his expression melted away and he sank into his chair before the desk. This Mr. Turner would not get out of joining his regiment, especially since he was renowned for skill with a sword and his knowledge in the smithy. He also possessed information regarding certain pirates that could be put to excellent use.

Aye, Will Turner would be most useful in putting down the rebellion in the Americas.

TBC...