There are stories that circled around Port Gibraltar. A story that tells a mysterious tale about the menacing and merciless Captain of the Blackwatch falling from grace then strayed down this path. Once highly respected of his ranking and stood right beside his new comrade, now Commodore, John 'Jack' Morrison. Famously known as, the Golden Boy of the Golden era. No one remembers the man beside the charming Commodore Morrison he only meant much before said man joined the Navy. Many speculated of the man's fall from grace's reason is the passing over of the Commodore position; this led to the breeding of jealousy. A few weeks went by and one of the Ports got destroyed terribly leaving debris and rubble and the cries of women and children begging for help. The man fled and swam to a ship with crew members pulling him on board and captain the current ship, the fearful Blackwatch. Commodore Morrison halted his troops and stared at the man sailing away and from then on, the wreckage of the port pointed towards the Captain of the ship, it is still unknown who caused it and why.
You continued writing in your brown leather journal a gift to you on your sixteenth birthday. Currently, you are turning 18, perfect age to be betrothed. You thought bitterly about that, you bite your bottom lip and dusted the feather part of the quill across your chin. The door creaks open which startled you from your writing, you peered over your shoulder to see who it is at the entrance. As it turns out, it is your father. Hastily, you packed both the ink bottle and the journal into your drawers. Your hand dusted on your dress, feign ignorance, and greets, "Hello father," you rest your sleeved arms on the wooden desk. Your father evidently notices the suspicious behaviour but he swept it under the rug and smiles at you with hands intertwine with each other.
"Hello my dear, I see you're returning to writing again," He points his gloved finger to the drawers. You nervously laugh at your blatant mistake and duck your head low. You pulled the handle and took out the brown leather journal, surprisingly in pristine condition and you examined it with great care. A stray hair fell on your face; you brush it behind your ear and a vivid memory of your mother lying on her deathbed with weak hands giving you the present. Her half-lidded eyes and mustered up courage smile insisting you to take it, encouraging you to, always write to your heart's content. You graciously accepted it with tears welling up in your eyes, before you already knew it she has passed on.
"Your mother's greatest love has always been writing..." Your father adds on sadly. The two servants greeted your father from behind and bows to both him and you, your father steps aside and watch the two set the white coloured box with a pink ribbon tied around it on your bed. You intriguingly wondered what is inside the box, you side-eyed it shortly then returning your gaze to your father. Your father then walks towards your bed and gestures you to come over. You sat down right across from him. Attentively watching your father unwrap the ribbon. He lifts the cover open to reveal a cream coloured dress with floral designs. The gold lining struck out to your most as it glistened under the sunlight, you gasp softly at its magnificence and intricate design.
"This is beautiful..." You marvelled in disbelief. It was too grand and too much for everyday wear, you held it up and carefully inspected it in closer detail. Your father chuckles at your awe-inspired expression. He clears his throat to grasp your attention; you set it down gently back into the box.
"As a father and a nobleman," He says prolonging his intentions, "It is important I have to keep up with the trends for my beloved daughter and uphold her image." You nodded as you wait further.
"I want you to wear this for tonight's engagement part-"You groaned loudly and stood up from your bed. Angrily crossing your arms and huffing out a heavy sigh. You faced out to the balcony; there was no need for an engagement party to begin with. A simple arrangement of marriage between you and the man who is 10 years older than you are. The man who is arranging with you in this marriage fate is Commodore Morrison. Oh, how you detest saying his name at the mention of it, it reminds you of his futile efforts to pursue your love. Regardless, you could never see him as an eligible bachelor nor a husband beyond that sweet yet charismatic façade he puts on to save his 'image. You sense there was much more than that. You sigh once more, endless reminders of the trap laid out the moment of your birth that you will have another title. Commodore's wife. You shudder and hands brushing your sleeves as you peer over your shoulder.
"I'm not going," You protest at the idea with not much contemplation. Your father frowns at the reply and in a calm manner, he tries to persuade you to come.
"Commodore Morrison is going to ask for your hand in marriage, Y/N, surely you can't turn down this eligible young man right?" Eligible? You scoffed. Maybe for the women who has a close mindset with little goals in mind dreams daily to lock arms with the Commodore? Every eligible young woman drools about being his wife, apparently, it is a privilege. You felt bile building up in your throat. You shake your head affirmatively.
"Let me marry someone I love father!" You blurt irrationally. Then noticing the mix emotions written all over on his face. He slams his fist on your nightstand, jolting you from your senses. Taken aback by it. Your heart raced and drumming loudly in your ears as you gulped.
"I married someone I love and I lost her!" He shouts with tiny croaks hidden behind. Sensing sorrow and regrets in his tone. You clench your fist on your dress to steady your breathing. Eventually, you agreed to it, arguing further would lead to unhappiness and strain. You resigned to your fate as the Commodore's wife.
Dusk soon break around Port Gibraltar, bright flashing lights, roaring laughter of fellow soldiers and the orchestra of music playing loudly in the gazebo of the Commodore's house. You arrived in front of the doorstep in the carriage with your father; physically prepared of the popping of question from Commodore Morrison but slightly mentally prepared. The corset is a tad bit tight to restrict airflow into the lungs and you relied heavily on your cloth fan. Two footmen appear in front of the carriage door and open it for the two of you. Their hand extended towards you and you took it to step out of the carriage with ease. You were overwhelmed with nervousness and you attempted to turn back to cower inside the carriage but your father halts you. He wags his finger in front of you and places two hands on your shoulder escorting you inside the grand house. You adverted contact with each and every one of the guests, you just smiled and greeted a tiny, inaudible hello. You prayed hard, before your servants dress you up for the party, that Commodore Morrison fallen ill or probably suffer an injury or two.
"Lady L/N, you look gorgeous tonight," A familiar voice surprises you in the front. You bat your eyelashes as the Commodore took your gloved hand, kissing it. Your father proudly stood beside you smiling and Jack flashed that famous warm smile of his.
"Are you implying I do not look gorgeous every day?" You snarkily reply only to be glared at by your father. You opened your fan and fan yourself to hide the rolling of eyes, Jack took no offence to that and laughs.
"The colour just brings out those shining E/C hues of yours, you should wear it often," That hit a nerve in you were about to make another snarky comment but your father stops you by interrupting.
"Like her beautiful mother, the cream colour does suit her tremendously." Your father smiles at the two of you then shake his head towards you. You fanned yourself vigorously to intake more air as your lungs tightened further. Jack extends his arm, a gesture for you to lock arms with him. You reluctantly did so and walked away with him. You peer over your shoulder and saw your father nodding in approval of your actions, you followed Jack's guide to the empty part of his house; his garden.
He lets go and walks in front of you, slowing his pace for you to match up with his. You, however, was disinterested at his attempt to start up a conversation between the two of you. His long winded stories about how he climbed up the ranks were truly laughable. They favour him because he had the face of a man to lead the nation near to succession, never once he speaks about his best friend. You took it upon yourself to do so.
"And what about Captain Reyes?" You asked to slowly peel that man's façade and to feed your curiosity. Jack stopped dead in his tracks and pauses for a moment, finding words to describe his 'best friend'.
"Remarkable man," he replies vaguely then diverts to another topic. You raised a brow at this questionable behaviour following carefully behind him; safely concluding he is a tough man to crack.
Dinner then approaches, you sat beside your father and fell short on breath, you muster all your might to maintain your usual self even with the pale look on your face. You reached forward to drink the cup of water poured just before the guests sat down, Jack stood up from his seat and using his knife to tap on the golden cup which matches his hair. Although, you noticed little strays were dusted grey. You snickered silently.
"Ladies and gentlemen I have an announcement to make," Jack announces in confidence and everyone on the dinner table halted. Jack glances down at you shortly and smiles, you, however, stared at the bowl of soup placed in front of you.
"As many of you know I am getting engage with the young and beautiful Lady L/N, I have been given her father's blessings to ask for her hand in marriage." Jack snapped his fingers to alert one of his servant, a young lad in his 20s steps forward with his head hung low and a tiny blue velvet box, matching Commodore Morrison's tailored suit, extended towards the said man. Jack took it from his hands and dismisses him back to his place, the lad scurries off. He turns to look at you lovingly and opens the box, revealing a ring with huge diamond sparkling under his candlelight chandelier, everyone gasps in excitement and an uproar of gossips took over.
Commodore Morrison raises his hand up in the air for silence, he gets down on one knee and held the box in front of you. Your eyes bulge out and choking on your cup of water, with leaks of it in the corners of your mouth. You wiped it off with the cloth on your lap, you braced yourself for this moment.
"Y/N L/N, your eyes sparkle like the diamond on the ring, I've watched you grow into a fine young woman," he begins, "I am deeply honoured to be the man and incredibly lucky to ask for your hand in marriage," He removes the ring and gazes into your E/C hues. You tried to divert but 20 pairs of eyes stared at you in anticipation. You looked down at Commodore Morrison, your lips quivering in fear and nervousness for any slip ups and your official resignation to fate.
"Y/N L/N, will you be my wife?" He asks sincerely cracking a toothy smile. Everyone around you, even your father, cheered for you to accept his proposal. Your heart raced and your intake of breath heightened. Everywhere turned blurry and spinning around you placed your hand on your forehead and fanned yourself aggressively to calm yourself down. You pushed your chairs back and it hisses loudly on the floor.
"G-give me a moment," You excused yourself and ran outside to a secluded area to breathe normally. You struggled with the removable of the corset in your dress but somehow managing it to loosen it. You felt yourself breathing properly again and flutter your eyes close as you sat down on the brick ground of the area.
A hand in the shadows reached forward and crept his hands around your mouth to block out your screams. Your legs kicked heavily as a sign of protest, you scream your loudest but it was muffled out by the tightening grip.
"Sleep tight darlin'..." That was the last words you remembered before your vision blackened. You were dragged and thrown into a carriage of the haystack. You hear faint commands of the Commodore to search everywhere for you frantically. He must have noticed you have gone missing after a while. How long has it been you wonder? And, that was the last memory of you in Port Gibraltar of the faint torches that glowed in the dark evening skies.