𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 ▸ W. TURNER

𝟢. 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤

A miscalculated angle saw the blades clash together with such force that it knocked the challenger backwards into the stone wall of the alley. They barely had time to gather their feet before Will launched his next attack. And there was no way they were getting out of this one.

Collapsing to the dirt in a heap, sword clattering down beside them, Will's opponent fell. Wild shouts echoed from across the alley, the boys in the corner laughing and jeering at the defeated as they chanted their victor's name. "Turner! Turner! Turner!"

The blacksmith's boy gave a small bow to his supporters before rounding on his opponent, still crumpled at his feet, with a playful grin. "I told you I would win. I always do."

On the ground, the defeated closed their hand around their fallen blade. As they raised their head to meet the blacksmith's boy's eyes, the brimmed hat they wore dislodged itself from its position. Almost instantly, a cascade of flame red waves tumbled out from beneath, and the midday sun beamed down upon a pale face scattered with freckles.

Lillian Lysander gave a heavy sigh and fixed her dark eyed gaze upon her adversary, reaching out towards him with the hand not still clasped around her sword. "My dear sweet William, I believe I stand corrected." She made an extra effort to look weary from their duel, but she hadn't have needed to – Will gave a triumphant grin, so easily duped was the blacksmith's boy. For someone with such a dark and mysterious past, William Turner was incredibly naïve.

"Now, the least you could do is help me off the ground." She smiled innocently up at him, watched him take those last few steps into her final attack. He bent forward, reached down to grasp her hand in his, but he noticed the change in the expression on her face far too late. A smirk curled Lillian's lip as she latched her fingers around Will's wrist and swept her right leg out under his feet. There was only a brief outcry from Will as he crashed to the ground beside her, before the entire alley erupted into chaos.

The other children, those who'd previously been screeching from the sidelines, had now joined the ring themselves. Fists flew and nails tore and heels connected with ribs, the two blades laying forgotten in the dirt.

This was the scene Mr Brown was presented with when he emerged from his workshop at midday on the pretext of acquiring more rum from the local tavern. He'd previously chalked all the noise down to some kind of drunk brawl occurring further up the street, so it took him a little longer than usual to realise that it was in fact taking place right outside his back door. And it took him even longer to notice that his apprentice was right in the thick of it, caught in a headlock by none other than the Lysander girl.

"Oi! Clear off, the lotta you!" Brown roared, stumbling towards the battling crowd. As if on cue, each of the scrawny merchant kids looked up. They all took one glance at the blacksmith's beet red face and promptly scarpered, disappearing in every direction and leaving only two figures left in the alley.

The Lysander girl had refrained from trying to strangle the blacksmith's apprentice by that point – the pair were stood side by side, both breathing heavily and covered in dirt and dust and blood. A long, thin cut had opened up on Lillian's arm, and Will's nose was bleeding. Various items were scattered about their feet; articles dropped from the pockets of the onlookers, Lillian's now thoroughly torn hat, and of course the two blades they'd been fighting with in the first place.

As soon as Brown noticed his fine handiwork discarded in the dirt, his face blanched. "What did I say about leaving work laying around like that, boy! A man'll pay good money for a fine blade, what good are they doing out here in the alley. In the dirt might I add!"

Neither Will nor Lillian wanted to be the first to meet Brown's eyes. After all, it wasn't the first time the two of them had been caught. For Will, it wasn't so bad – in fact his master often encouraged him to practice. It gave him better understanding of how the weapon must feel in a man's hand, the weight and balance of it. There was, however, no excuse for Aoife Lysander's daughter to be engaging in swordplay. And both teens knew it.

"I don't wanna see this again, you understand, boy!" The blacksmith barked, fixing Will with a murderous glare.

Will nodded, eyes focused on Lillian's destroyed hat, which had incidentally become quite fascinating to look at since Brown had made his appearance. "Yes, sir."

"Good, now pick those up and get inside."

Will hurried to gather the blades from the ground and made his way through the back door of the workshop, leaving Lillian alone in the alley. "And you, Miss Lysander, get yourself back home before you mother has my guts for garters."

Lillian did not need to be told twice. Swiping her torn and dusted headgear from the ground, she started towards the end of the alley, breathing a sigh of relief that Brown hadn't frogmarched her straight back to the door of the tavern. If her mother knew she'd been duelling in back alleys again, there'd be hell to pay.

The town centre was heaving with merchants when she emerged into the streets. She jammed the broken hat back down on her head in the hope that it would steer attention away from her appearance – though a fair few young merchant women in Port Royal donned male attire, Lillian was almost certain most of them did not look as if they'd just braved a sandstorm.

She was only moments from turning left onto the winding road which spanned the two blocks to her mother's tavern, struggling to tuck those auburn strands up into her cap, when a familiar voice called from a nearby window.

"What do you say, we call it a draw?"

Lillian spun on her heels and looked up. Though she had to squint to see him through the glorious rays of sunshine filtering down upon the Port, there was no mistaking her duelling partner. Will was grinning down at her from the second floor of the workshop, hair now loose and flowing to his shoulders. Still covered in dust, shirt torn and knuckles bloody, there was something wild about him. Something Lillian feared would be stamped out of him in years to come. That would be stamped out of both of them. She was determined to keep hold of it for as long as possible.

Lifting the brim of her hat, Lillian shot him a smirk that she wasn't quite sure he would see, but it didn't matter. Will knew it was there.

"I'll think about it." 

𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 ' 𝐒   𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 
Hey everyone! Welcome to the beginning of The Dutchman's Daughter, aka the story of Lillian Lysander! I'm so incredibly excited to write this story, and I can't wait to share what I have planned for her with you guys - she's one of my favourite ocs I've ever made (probably because she was originally designed for an actual novel) and I love her to pieces :') Here's just a little introduction into Will and Lillian back when they were 13 or so, but the story picks up later on when they're 18/19 (I'm not actually sure how old Will and Elizabeth are during CotBP but I'm going with that for now, please correct me if I'm wrong), and Lillian hasn't seen him in like five years because she moved to Tortuga with her mum. Also just a warning I know I have Will in the title but this story is actually gonna go so much deeper than just being a Will fic - there's a lot to it and I'm super excited to write it. It's giving me a refreshing break from writing nothing but Hunger Games for six months (don't worry I'm not abandoning my clato community I'll be back soon I swear)! Either way I really hope you guys enjoy this and I'm sorry it's not my usual content but honestly I'm writing for me now and this is what I want to write at the moment :') Much love and thank you for all the support recently - Vee xx