stowaway || j. norrington

13

at world's end

Theodore banged on Frances' door, waking her up. She rolled out of bed and opened it, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as he pushed into her room and sat on her chair.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"You were the one that told me to do it, I didn't think I needed to ask your permission." Frances rolled her eyes.

"It's been two days, Frances. And you told Beckett before your own brother?"

"Alright," Frances rolled her eyes, walking over to her brother. "I am sorry, Theodore. Can you find it within yourself to forgive me? This is what you've been planning for the past decade, so I can't imagine you're that upset."

Theodore simply sighed and looked away, failing to hide the soft smile gracing his features. "Well, we must host a party. And a hell of a good one, at that."

"In the current climate? I would not deem such a thing appropriate in our situation." Frances frowned.

"If you do not, it won't be believable. The entire island must think that you are madly in love."

"Believe me, they've known of my intentions since I rather loudly proclaimed them to Elizabeth seven years ago in the town square." Frances smiled at the memory. At the time, it had been humiliating; in hindsight, it was actually quite humorous to think of her teenage self being so enamored that she felt the need to shout about it in public.

"Well, they know nothing of Admiral Norrington's intentions. Perhaps he should shout them to me for all the public to hear," Theodore grinned. "Oh, Theodore, she's just so wonderful. If I ever marry someone, it will be her. And when you are married, we can live next to—"

"Alright, that's enough, brother. We all remember what I said. I will talk to him about a party. If he refuses — which he will — you must not push."

Theodore waved a hand in the air dismissively, though Frances couldn't tell if he meant it in agreement or otherwise. She could only hope he wouldn't meddle. But he wasn't called Theodore 'The Meddler' Groves for nothing (no one but Frances had ever called him that).

Mere hours later, Frances sat in Beckett's office with a small smile on her face. He had insulted her acting abilities once, and he'd never do it again. Not that she was completely acting. If she was honest, she was thrilled. To marry James Norrington was a dream, and it was happening, and she didn't care for what reason.

Beckett sat and observed her as she stayed lost in thought. Finally, he spoke up. "I haven't seen you in a few days. Where have you been?"

"Making preparations, My Lord. I know my betrothed has visited you."

Beckett hummed. "Yes, the admiral has contacted me. Very convenient timing for this wedding of yours."

Frances swallowed. "Yes, we are rushing it along. It has been a long time coming, and I am very glad."

Beckett pretended to be convinced, and he was a much better actor than Frances. She smiled at him, mind clouded from thinking about her fiancé. Beckett found it sickening. Sickening and unconvincing.

•

Frances bathed and prepared herself for bed, humming quietly as she did so. She'd dismissed her maids and took her time. After blowing out her candles, she slid under her sheets and drifted off to sleep. A completely perfect dreamless sleep, however short-lived.

She woke abruptly to a hand pressing down harshly over her face. Immediately panicking, she tried to jump out of bed, but found that her legs were also held down by the intruder's knee. There was nothing to see by other than the dull glow of the moon. A dagger glinted in the light, poised to strike.

This was it. This was how she died. Beckett had finally picked a night, and of course it had to be before she married Norrington. She couldn't even share a bed with him before she died.

The intruder was not very smart. Beckett should've sent Mercer. The masked man moved his hand slightly to readjust. In this time, Frances had taken the chance to bite his hand and grab it to pull it away from her face. She screamed as loud as possible, just sounds at first before calling out for her brother.

No one was coming. She was wrestling with the man's dagger arm and had already been cut. She finally accepted her fate. At least it was death and not torture.

Just as she was about to let the man cut her neck open, her door opened to reveal her brother, still in his nightclothes and hat, holding his sword. He swiftly grabbed the intruder and ran him through before pushing him out the window and hurrying over to Frances.

She grabbed for him and hugged him tight, unable to cry due to the shock.

Theodore finally spoke. "I should never have tried to keep you here. Find Elizabeth and stay alive. I won't tell James about this."

She responded quickly and urgently. "You must."

"He'll kill Beckett and damn us all."

"Then let us be damned! Beckett deserves to die. My only regret is not killing him myself."

She was already standing up, looking for travel clothes to change into. "Now you must help me out of here before Beckett starts to miss that assassin."

The siblings packed a bag in record time, and Frances was out the door and down to a dock within ten minutes. She untied a dinghy and pushed off. She had no idea where to go, so she rowed and rowed, hoping maybe one day she'd reach land.

Her bag didn't include much other than food and water for two weeks, if even, so she had to make it somewhere, anywhere, before her provisions ran dry.

Her boat hit something. She originally thought it a wave, but it was more solid than that. She peeked over the edge of the boat to see what was passing by. Some chunk of dead fish or other. A large chunk, to say the least. It looked like some type of tentacle. Perhaps someone had decimated an octopus nearby.

She shook off the thought and continued rowing. A few minutes later, a ship appeared on the horizon. She didn't even care if it was an English one, or one of Beckett's. As long as she could be off the dinghy and drinking water.

•

hrrrhhuhhgghhh

it is my story and i get to pick the plot holes i include!