Although many would argue it was impossible to feel color, Frederick knew that his face matched a similar shade to the seaweed drifting by the ship's hull in clumps. His head lolled to the side while his eyes lazily rocked with the waves, urging his body to heave the foul slop considered breakfast and cleanse his intestines of the impurities he'd been fed since the moment of his capture.

"Any luck acquiring those sea legs, Frederico?" Diego asked with a firm slap on the back as he sidled up beside the prince—clearly lacking a better understanding of the term 'personal space'.

"I don't normally experience this sickness with such severity," Frederick admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I'm not certain whether it's the fault of the ship or the captain sailing it."

"Or perhaps you've never truly experienced the Sea in her natural, untamed beauty," Diego suggested, lifting his brow playfully with a smug grin.

"It's this crew that's unruly," Frederick contradicted, scoffing as he tried to walk away from the conversation. However, the ship lurched as it raced across the sea crests, forcing him to reach back toward the rail which once supported him. He narrowly missed, and so it was the pirate's arm that actually provided support.

"Careful, Príncipe," Diego whispered into the prince's ear. His tone was stuck between a warning and a threat. "I'd hate to see you swimming with the sharks again so soon."

Frederick shuddered at the reminder of his near death at the tentacles of the kraken. It was only because of the pirate beside him that he was alive at this very moment... then again it was also this pirate's fault that he'd been captured and almost eaten in the first place.

Frederick pushed away from De Soto, dusting himself off. His nose wrinkled just from the proximity. It was almost a relief to know he hadn't adjusted to the stench of liquor and filth.

"Right, well—" Frederick paused as his ear twitched. He could've sworn he'd heard his sister somewhere off behind him. And every once in a while—not so long as he would like though—a sixth sense would send chills down his spine as if alerting him to trouble involving the young princess. He slowly turned, a look of confusion twisting his features as he tilted his head. "Anne... what are you doing?"

"Swinging a sword," she replied nonchalantly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Trying to kill yourself," Diego answered, stepping up to take the sword from the girl by the hilt. "If you keep swinging it like that you're going to cut off your own head."

"Then how should I swing it?" Anne questioned, crossing her arms. But it was almost as if she were challenging the pirate to teach her, rather than pouting.

"How about not at all?" Frederick suggested as he pulled his sister closer to continue his reprimand in a more hushed tone. "It's improper for a lady to be acting as you are right now, Anne—"

"But I'm not Lady Anne right now, am I?" Anne interrupted, a glint of mischief sparkling in her eyes as if that was enough to get away with the way she was currently acting. "I'm Andrew the Pirate."

"Anne, you are the furthest thing from a pirate," Frederick contradicted. "You can't sail, you know little to nothing about the proper technique to wield a sword, and the fine wine you've tasted during the palace's annual festivities hardly compares to the copious amounts of liquor absorbed in these men's bloodstreams."

"All of which could be learned," Anne countered without hesitation. As if teasing her brother, she lifted a small flask into the air. "And according to Mr. Gibbs, it's never too early to start."

"Give me that!" Frederick hissed, snatching the flask from her hand before smelling the contents of her breath for any lingering residue. She was clean and obviously teasing him, but he didn't want to find humor in their current situation. "Anne, please take this seriously. We're not children anymore. This isn't a matter of just letting you sit and watch one of my fencing lessons, this is a matter of life and death. I realize that our captors have forced you to wear a disguise for your own safety—ironically enough—but you are still a lady of the court and would do well to keep that in mind."

"Why?" Anne questioned, her face hardening. "So I can just be married off to the next eligible suitor who would put coin in father's purse?"

"Yes, Anne!" Frederick threw his hands in the air with frustration. "Believe me, I want you to be happy. But there comes a time in our lives where we must stop acting childishly and accept the responsibility of our title to honor our parents and our country. And if that's an arranged marriage to strengthen the bond with our neighboring allies, so be it."

There was a hostile silence between the siblings as their views of freedom and duty butted heads. Of course they respected and cared for one another, but their capture had only placed a strain on those views. Frederick looked at Anne and only saw a child that needed to grow up. Anne looked at Frederick and only saw a boy frozen in fear under his father's thumb. Neither side was completely right, and neither side was blatantly wrong.

"You're drawing the wrong kind of attention," Diego finally added his input into the conversation. He didn't directly look at either sibling as his eyes remained fixed on Kidd, who frowned at them from the helm before resuming her conversation with Captain Sparrow.

Anne huffed under her breath, turning on her heels to walk away. An action Frederick looked at like running away from her responsibilities yet again.

"Anne?"

"It's not like I can go anywhere." She shot a look back over her shoulder. "I'm trapped everywhere I go."

"Anne—"

"Andrew," she corrected, getting the last word in before she stormed below decks. "It's Andrew."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Anne muttered under her breath with a huff as she slammed the flat side of the rusty cutlass—one she'd discovered discarded beneath an old tarp—against the thick support beam below decks. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"That's hardly the way to go about sinking this ship," a voice drowsily slurred from one of the nearby hammocks. Anne stiffened as the former commodore rose from his once sleeping position and stumbled across the wooden planks to stand beside her.

Anne's nose wrinkled. "Have you been drinking?"

"It's a pirate ship," Norrington retorted. "All anyone does aboard this ship is drink. And from the sound of things, you could use one yourself."

As if to prove his point, the former commodore bent down to retrieve a half-filled bottle from beside the beam she'd been fighting only a moment ago as if it were an enemy of sorts. He held the bottle out to her, and—after only a moment of hesitation—she accepted with a quick swig.

Her throat burned and she immediately began to choke, using the nearby beam for support as it felt she might cough up a lung. Her features contorted with distaste and she shook her head. "That's ghastly."

A thin chuckle escaped Norrington's lips as he took back the bottle, finishing off what little remained. His own nose wrinkled and his lips curled with distaste, revealing his own thoughts on the acrid taste. "Yes... but it numbs the pain quicker than anything else."

Anne shrugged, lifting the sword back over her shoulder for another swing. "I think hitting things works just as well—"

Norrington snatched her wrist, then took the blade from her hands. She frowned, prepared to protest, but he held up a hand requesting a moment of patience.

"Keep swinging like that and you'll have a hook for a hand," Norrington noted as he eyed the rust that tainted the blade. "This won't do at all."

"It's the only one I could find," Anne protested, reaching out to take back the cutlass.

However, Norrington shook his head, holding the cutlass behind his back to keep it out of reach before offering his own. "Why don't you try this one?"

"Are you certain?" Anne asked, hesitant to accept the blade.

"It's not as if you're keeping it, simply borrowing it so I can show you the proper technique," Norrington replied.

"You're going to teach me?" Her eyes lit up with excitement as she accepted his cutlass.

"So that you don't unintentionally poke someone's eye out," Norrington agreed, saying it as if he were doing a public service rather than a personal favor. He placed one foot in front of the other, loosely positioning the rusty cutlass in his hand to show her what mentioned proper form looked like. "Now you."

"Like this?" Anne asked, holding the blade out while her feet remained together.

"Not quite." Norrington shook his head, tapping the flat edge of the rusty cutlass against her boots to indicate that she needed to make a few corrections. He then stepped behind her to reposition her arms higher and more parallel to the rest of her body. "There."

"And then I just swing?" Anne asked.

"A simple task," Norrington agreed.

Mentally, she shrugged. Surely there couldn't be much more to it. She'd seen Frederick practice hundreds of times. And if her brother was competent enough to wield a blade with skill and grace, it couldn't be that hard, could it?

She lifted her elbow, reaching back to increase her momentum. However, Norrington had remained standing behind her, wrongfully assuming it would be a safe space. Her elbow collided with his nose; consequently, he lost his balance and fell backward.

Anne gasped, dropping the cutlass to the ground to cover her mouth with her hands. At the last minute, she switched gears and reached out to catch him before his descent was complete. However, his momentum was too great and he only pulled her down with him.

It felt as if the entire disaster occurred within the blink of an eye. And the next moment she opened hers, they were staring into the former commodore's at an embarrassingly close proximity. She quickly cleared her throat, scrambling to get off of him and back to her feet—ensuring there was a fair amount of space between them after dusting herself off.

She could feel her face was flushed, embarrassed by her uncharacteristically clumsy behavior. She wasn't exactly a picture of pristine grace, but she knew how to carry herself with enough elegance to appease the courts.

She gently massaged the sore spot on her elbow, finally turning back toward Norrington to see him doing the same but for his face. She gasped, remembering that not only had she basically assaulted the man but injured him as well.

"Are you alright?" she gently questioned, reaching out as if to take his face in her hands to examine the extent of his injury. "I didn't break it, did I?"

"No, no!" Norrington's eyes widened and he took a step back, keeping her at an arm's length. "I'll be alright."

Her expression fell. It was then she recalled how spectacularly she was failing to act like a man. Deciding that she needed to make up for the mistake, she rashly punched him in the arm and his features immediately twisted with bewilderment.

"What was that about?" he questioned, now massaging his arm along with his nose.

"I—sorry," Anne shrank back. "I don't know why I did that..."

"It's fine..." Norrington continued to eye her, but eventually the suspicious look faded. "You're an odd one to say the least. Now you obviously have no experience overseas, so why a pirate ship of all places."

Anne shrugged. "I needed a fresh start."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to explain better than that," Norrington said, crossing his arms after he picked up his fallen cutlass from the ground. "I did save your life after all. I think that entitles me to a few answers."

Her lips pursed, but eventually she nodded her head with a sigh. "I was engaged."

"And she broke it off?" A look of sympathy crossed Norrington's face.

However, Anne quickly corrected the incorrect assumption, shaking her head. "No, I ran away... It was an arranged marriage, and I doubt we'd have made one another happy."

"I'm not sure the purpose of an arranged marriage usually is happiness," Norrington noted, less sympathetic than he'd previously been. "So you left her at the altar?"

Anne both nodded and shook her head. "It's complicated. Our parents made an arrangement to improve trade relations between our families. Only after we married, I'd move to Spain with all these unfamiliar new cultural expectations. That's alot of pressure on its own without being a newlywed bride—Groom! A newlywed groom!"

"Spain?" Norrington questioned as if the entire conversation hadn't been explained in English. "And your brother? How does he fit into the picture?"

"He offered to come with me," Anne explained. "He left everything behind just to make sure I'd be alright wherever I landed."

"So who's left to make sure he's alright?" Norrington asked. "The pair of you are strange. It's a miracle you've made it this far really."

"Right..." Anne glanced at the ground with an awkward chuckle of agreement.

Norrington sighed. "I'll likely regret this, but let's go again."

"Again?"

Norrington nodded, handing her his cutlass once more. "I can't promise you'll be a great pirate, but when we're through you'll at least be a half-decent sailor."

Anne accepted the blade with a warm smile and a nod of appreciation as she jumped back into the first formation she'd been shown. Norrington made a minor adjustment, then stepped behind her once more—holding her arm to prevent a repeat of history. He swung her arm across her body, showing the proper motion before stepping away to let her try alone.

"Congratulations." There was a look of slight satisfaction on his face. "You aren't completely incompetent with a sword."

"Thank you, Mr. Norrington." Anne reached out as if she planned to hug the man, but then stopped and extended her hand instead. "I greatly appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it," he insisted as he accepted the handshake. He paused as if considering adding something else to the conversation. The moment lasted a minute before he finally nodded with a sigh. "And you can call me James, Andrew."

Anne smiled. However, before she could say anything else, Mr. Gibb's voice could be heard from above deck. "Land ho!"

"I believe that's my cue," Norrington excused himself, walking past her to climb the stairs and join the world up top.

"Right..." Anne muttered quietly to herself, remaining alone below decks for just a minute longer before following after him to rejoin the reality that she was a disguised princess held captive by pirates. It had been nice to believe the illusion though, she'd almost convinced even herself of the freedom that playing pretend offered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You're pullin' too fast," Pintel snapped.

"You're pulling too slow," Ragetti reprimanded with a hissed whisper. "We don't want the Kraken to catch us."

"I'm savin' me strength for when it comes," Pintel insisted. "And I don't think it's Krack-en, anyways. I always heard it said Kray-kin."

"What, with a long A?" Ragetti asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"Aye," Pintel agreed.

Ragetti fervently shook his head. " No-no-no-no-no-no-no. Krock-en's how it's pronounced in the original Scandinavian, and Krack-en's closer to that."

Pintel scoffed. "Well we ain't original Scandinavians, are we? Kray-ken!"

"It's a mythological creature, I can calls it what I wants," Ragetti insisted with a huff.

The argument between the pair of pirates had been ongoing for the last ten minutes since they stepped foot into the longboat. However, most of the crew present on said voyage didn't really seem to care—minus the occasional twitch at the mention of the sea beast.

Pintel and Ragetti were seated in the middle of the boat, each with an oar in hand. Sparrow and Kidd sat in the front—Sparrow cradling an oversized jar of dirt while Kidd nudged his elbow for more space. Anne, herself, sat on the floor of the longboat since Kidd had insisted that one unit of cargo would be present for safe keeping. Apparently she didn't trust De Soto enough to keep an eye on both of them while Sparrow similarly didn't trust Kidd to not lead a mutiny in his absence—thereby forcing the other captain to join them. Finally, Miss Swann and Norrington sat in the back.

For a brief moment, Anne experienced a twinge of jealousy at the look Norrington offered Elizabeth, staring at the woman as if she were his whole world. And then it was forgotten just as quickly as Anne rationalized those feelings away, insisting she just met the man and (a) he believed she was a man and (b) she was just confusing gratitude for a different kind of appreciation. He'd saved her life, not proposed. He didn't owe her anything... in fact it was the other way around really. So perhaps that's how she'd make it up, she'd help the former commodore enter the lady's good graces. After all, she was a lady herself and who better than a woman to know what a woman wanted.

As the longboat arrived on the shore of the Isla Cruces beach, Jack immediately disembarked. He handed his jar of dirt off to his pair of lackeys with a set of simple instructions. "Guard the boat, mind the tide... Don't touch my dirt."

Elizabeth was handed the compass and then Sparrow stepped aside, as if telling her to lead the way. Kidd's lips pursed from the side of her mouth, but that didn't stop her from sidling up next to Jack as if she had a point to prove.

"It's not working for you, is it?" Jillian asked, a self-satisfied smirk forming at her lips. "Because you don't know what you want."

"It's not you, love. I'll tell you that much," Sparrow retorted with distaste.

Jillian rolled her eyes. "I meant the heart. You're trying to squirm free of your deal with Jones."

Sparrow shook his head, feigning innocence. "Now that doesn't sound like me at all."

Jillian scoffed. "It sounds exactly like you, Jack. In the time we've known one another, there's only ever been just one constant about you."

Sparrow looked intrigued, placing his hands on his hips. "And what's that, love?"

She leaned closer, so close Anne thought they might actually kiss. Jillian's lips teasingly grazed Sparrow's as she spoke, only to yank his bandana down over his eyes before shoving him aside. "You lack the conviction to actually commit to anything! You switch sides whenever it's more convenient for you. If anything, the brand that mars your wrist is proof enough of that."

Once he situated his bandana so that he could see, Sparrow's hand subconsciously gripped his wrist with his bandaged hand. For a brief second, a look of anger flashed across his face. However, Miss Swann's own frustration acted as enough of a distraction.

"This doesn't work," she exclaimed with a huff, sitting cross-legged in the sand. "And it certainly doesn't show you what you want most."

Anne's brow knitted with confusion; however, she noticed the way Norrington rolled his eyes as Elizabeth glanced in Sparrow's direction as he approached. She'd tossed the compass onto the ground beside her, providing anyone the ability to see that the needle pointed back at her.

"Yes it does," Jack insisted. "You're sitting on it!"

"Beg your pardon?" she questioned as if she didn't hear him right.

"Move," Jack instructed with a wave of his hand.

Elizabeth moved back to her feet, unbalanced by the shifting ground. Jack whistled and motioned Norrington over, to which the former commodore listened with an eye roll. He handed a shovel to Anne; however, she was hesitant to accept... especially considering she'd never performed even a second of similar manual labor.

Kidd looked about ready to protest, but Sparrow interrupted with a smug nod of agreement. "Let the lads earn their keep, Jillian. It's why they were hired, right?"

"It's fine," Anne agreed, digging her shovel beneath the sand as she stepped into a rhythm beside Norrington. Her movement was more encumbered, but eventually she got the hang of it as beads of sweat dripped from her temple.

While they worked, Jack had taken a seat on the nearest slope. His legs were crossed in the lotus position and his eyes were closed as if meditating. Elizabeth sat closer to those working, but her mind appeared elsewhere—torn between looking off toward the sea and then back toward Sparrow. Kidd would keep her back to the work for a few minutes, keeping watch over the sea before checking her shoulder as if ensuring Anne hadn't run off thinking the jungle would provide sanctuary.

"So..." Anne quietly tried to start a conversation, grunting as she heaved another scoop of sand over her shoulder into the growing pile behind her. "You fancy her?"

"Beg your pardon?" Norrington questioned.

"Miss Swann," Anne explained. "Do you fancy her?"

"It's complicated," Norrington replied with a huff of his own while digging another scoop.

"How so?" Anne asked.

"It just is—" Norrington was interrupted as his shovel clanged against a hard surface beneath the thin layer of sand remaining.

To confirm, Anne drove her shovel downward, also colliding with what was presumably the chest they'd been digging for. Sparrow, Kidd, and Swann all gathered together at the sound. The group quickly brushed away the remaining layer of sand to reveal a large chest. Together, they reached down into the hole, pulling the chest free. In one swift motion, Jack broke the lock free with the shovel—falling to his knees as he slowly opened the chest.

Within the chest, there was an assortment of pearl necklaces, documents, letters, and an even smaller chest. The second chest was what made Anne's brow lift; however, none of the others looked surprised by the discovery. It's as if they'd been expecting it really. Slowly, the five pressed their ears against the wooden exterior of the smaller chest. Anne jumped back at the sound of a beating heart.

Elizabeth's smile widened and her eyes glittered with amazement. "It's real!"

Norrington appeared stunned, looking from Sparrow back to the chest as if he didn't truly believe his eyes. "You actually were telling the truth."

"The truth about what?" Anne asked, almost as if she didn't really want to know.

"The heart of Davy Jones," Kidd replied, eyeing the chest with a renewed sense of greed. "Control the heart, you control the seas."

"There's not actually a heart in that box, right?" Anne asked, taking another step back. "It's not possible."

"Quite possible," Sparrow contradicted. "As the former commodore said, I was telling the truth... Something that I do quite a lot. Yet people are always surprised."

"With good reason!"

Every head whipped around to meet the face of the fresh voice approaching. The man had seemingly appeared from thin air, but his sopping hair and soaked clothing revealed that he'd swam from some other unknown point of origin.

"Will!" Relief flashed across Elizabeth's face. Anne suddenly understood why Norrington claimed his affection was complicated as Will wrapped his arms around Elizabeth's waist before passionately kissing her. "You're alright! Thank God! I came to find you!"

Sparrow eyed the newcomer with unease. "How did you get here?"

"Sea turtles, mate." Will's eyes narrowed as if he were mocking Sparrow. "A pair of them, strapped to my feet."

"Not so easy, is it?" Sparrow asked, choosing to ignore the slight with one of his own.

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack," Will admitted, but from the sound of it there was something he was omitting.

Sparrow's brow contorted with confusion. "You do?"

Will nodded. "After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones."

Elizabeth gasped, outraged. "What?"

"What?" Jack asked as if he wasn't fully aware of this the entire time.

"I was reunited with my father," Will added.

"Oh!" Sparrow brightened as if he might be able to flip the tension of the situation. "Well... you're welcome, then."

"Everything you said to me... every word, was a lie!" Elizabeth exclaimed, glaring at Sparrow.

"Pretty much." Sparrow nodded. "Time and tide, love."

Will stooped down, flipping out the end of his jacket while he removed an odd looking key from his pocket. Sparrow caught on quicker than anticipated though as he turned the attention back to Will.

"Oy! What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna kill Jones," Will announced.

Sparrow immediately drew his sword and pointed it in Will's direction. He clicked his tongue and shook his head; however, there was a panic-stricken look in his eyes. "Can't let you do that, William. 'Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh? Now. If you please: The key."

Will slowly returned to his feet, backing away while keeping Elizabeth in reach. Suddenly, he drew Elizabeth's sword from her sheath then pointed it right back at Sparrow with renewed determination. "I keep the promises I make, Jack. I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it."

Without warning, Norrington drew his sword and pointed it at Will. "I can't let you do that, either. So sorry."

Sparrow grinned. "I knew you'd warm up to me eventually."

Norrington frowned, changing the direction of his sword to now point in Sparrow's direction. "Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it, and get my life back."

Sparrow almost looked impressed. "Ah. The dark side of ambition."

"Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption," Norrington contradicted. He held himself a little higher, as if everything he'd lost was just in reach.

Another sword entered the mix, one that surprised everyone as Anne stepped forward. The sword she wielded had been borrowed from one of the drunken pirates lounging about the Pearl before she boarded the longboat.

"Andrew?" Norrington's brow furrowed.

"Control the chest, control the sea," Anne slowly repeated, focusing on keeping her breath steady as she eyed the three men.

"You didn't even know about the chest an hour ago," Sparrow replied with a knowing grin. "Put the sword down, lad."

Anne shook her head. "That chest is my key to freedom."

"Then you better hope you win," Kidd announced her own presence as she added her blade to the growing tension with a terse smirk.

"And now you want it too," Sparrow's enthusiasm fell flat as his lips twisted into a frown.

"It's power, Jack," Kidd grinned with playful glee. "And an eternity of power at that. It'd be foolish to simply give that opportunity away... I'm not afraid to commit to the Dutchman, are you?"

The silence surrounding them was heavy and growing more tense with each passing second. Waiting for just one wrong move to justify striking them all down with a smiting blow. Patience was key... only time was limited for each and every one of them. Whether it was death waiting to collect his debt, visions of honor fading with the sun, a great collection of power just out of reach, a marriage proposal hidden behind the noose of treason, or a girl tired of waiting to be rescued, a moment's hesitation was all it took to lose everything.

Kidd was the first to strike: sliding her blade beneath the others before striking Sparrow on his inner thigh with the flat of her blade to snatch the key from his grasp.

Elizabeth gasped at the sudden show of violence. "Stop it! Be careful!"

Kidd hardly paid her any attention as she sprinted past, running down the beachside as fast as she possibly could. She even through back her head with a laugh of glee for good measure.

Fuming, Sparrow was the first back on his feet, running after the woman who made it her goal to beat him on every occasion. There was the rare moment she succeeded, which only added to the semi-malicious banter between them.

"Jack!" Elizabeth called after him.

Turner was on his feet a moment later, running after the others while calling back to Elizabeth over his shoulder. "Guard the chest!"

Norrington was the next to regain his balance but Anne pulled him back. He frowned, addressing her with a tone of little patience, yet it wasn't exactly hostile. "What do you think you're doing? They're getting away."

"We're on an island. They can't exactly escape very easily." Anne scoffed, but then held out her hand. Norrington's brow furrowed with confusion and distrust. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm suggesting a truce—at least for the time being. We can sort out what happens to the chest once it's in our possession, but our end goals are closer than you might believe. We might as well work together."

Norrington's lips pursed; however, he did shake her hand with a curt nod of his head. "Fine. But Sparrow's mine."

"You can have him?" Anne tilted her head, misunderstanding the meaning of his statement. "He's hardly my type anyway."

"What? No." Norrington shook his head, fumbling over his words until he ultimately gave up with a sigh. "Nevermind, we're losing valuable time. Come on."

Together, they rushed down the shore to catch up with the others. Sand flipped into the air with every step. Between the beach and the salt of the sea, Anne's eyes burned from the air.

The fighting resumed in a glorious clashing of swords once the five self-proclaimed pirates caught up to one another. They danced in a circle, steel clanging against steel at the threat of drawing blood with each blocked blow.

Elizabeth had had enough. She shrieked at the top of her lungs, remaining near the chest yet her attention remained focused on the group. "This is barbaric! This is no way for grown men to settle—Oh! Fine! Let's just pull out our swords and start banging away at each other! This will solve everything! I've had it! I've had enough! Wobbly-legged, rum-soaked... pirates!"

The last thing Anne could recall was a rock flying somewhere off to the left from her peripheral vision. It was too far to really matter or act like a threat, but it distracted her enough for her opponents to take advantage of her carelessness.

Jack pulled the same move that Kidd had used against him earlier, yanking Anne's bandana down over her eyes. She cried out in shock, stepping away from the group as her sword fell to the ground. Kidd frowned, stepping back from the fight to ensure her cargo remained in one piece while the other three carried on.

By the time Anne freed her eyes from the cloth and restored her vision, she found herself at sword point with Kidd staring down at her with a smug grin.

"Done playing pretend yet?" the captain asked.

"Hardly, I was just getting the hang of it—" Anne reached out to grab her cutlass from the sand, but Kidd placed her foot overtop the flat edge.

"You're floundering in this fight," Kidd contradicted. "For a princess, you lack grace and discipline."

"I ran away from my own wedding and basically asked a bunch of pirates to kidnap me," Anne retorted, swinging around to kick the side of Kidd's shin. The captain hissing in pain, jumping back to massage the bone. Meanwhile, Anne retrieved her blade and extended it out as if to challenge Kidd. "I'm not exactly your typical princess."

Once she'd gotten over the pain, Kidd looked impressed. "No... you're not."

"Now step aside or I'll make you," Anne threatened, her voice wavering ever-so-slightly. "My brother and I are going home."

"Princess," Kidd chuckled, shaking her head as she readied her cutlass, "I'd like to see you try."

Anne's lips tightened and her jaw clenched before she released a shout of frustration while swinging the blade. Not only was she using Norrington's lesson, but pulling what she could recall from her memories of Frederick's fencing lessons.

She remembered that as a boy, her brother got in trouble once or twice for employing some more illegal tactics that some of his friends had taught him. His Italian instructor immediately went ballistic, berating the boy in a language he was just beginning to understand. The point was that a gentleman never cheated nor did his put his opponent in a questionable position. He would have to win through hard work, dedication, and genuine effort to outsmart his opponent.

Anne was not a gentleman nor had she been taught by an Italian instructor. Not only did she use the blade in her hands, but every tool at her disposal. Their fight led them deeper into the jungle. Kidd had made the mistake of underestimating the royal, assuming that natural instinct to survive wouldn't kick it. Yet, it was more than that... it was if the innate gift was coursing through her veins as Anne learned with every strike and eventually found her rhythm.

Kidd may have once smiled and laughed at Anne's efforts—easily deflecting each blow—that is until they reached the jungle line where she actually needed to watch where her opponent's blade would land. The Royal was far from perfect, but like a drunken pirate or a retired soldier—rusty but growing more sober with every movement. Kidd could see potential blooming within the girl. She was almost impressed, that is until she pulled out a very Sparrow-like play, sweeping her leg to trip the captain up.

Kidd lost her footing and fell back, only her descent didn't stop at the ground. Apparently they'd found their way back into an abandoned church—more specifically, the graveyard.

"Oof!" a deeper voice than her own grunted. Kidd frowned, turning her glare of frustration toward the man she'd landed on. Sparrow release a nervous chuckle then frowned. "Bugger."

The two scrambled to their feet, each reaching for their own weapon when a sword was point at the nape of their neck—slowly moving back and forth as if deciding which to strike first.

"Ah, Anne!" Jack looked relieved. He gingerly push the edge of the blade away from his throat as if it were no real threat. He was more than surprised when it was immediately moved back. He tried thrice more only for his efforts to be in vain. He frowned, his brow twisting with confusion. "Love, what is it you're trying to do here? Secure your freedom, sail the seas until your heart's desire is fulfilled? Then what you need is a captain and mentor—"

"She's already got one of those," Kidd tried to interject, yet Sparrow held up his hand.

"No, she's got a captor and a monster," Jack corrected. He was forced to lean back as Kidd hissed in his direction, trying to strangle him with a look since her blade was still a ways away.

"What are you suggesting?" Anne suggested, her brow twisting with distrust.

"A truce," Jack extended his bandaged hand. "Help me get the heart and you'll sail with my crew to your heart's content. I've seen the way your eyes light up from the crow's nest: the sea calls to you."

It was like he saw through her and perfectly explained the longing ache that poured from her heart and coursed through her veins. Her eyes flickered and her hopes fell. "And what about Frederick?"

"We'll drop him off at Port Royale and be on our merry way," Jack brushed the thought away as if it were nothing. "A lifetime of adventure awaits..."

Anne bit the edge of her lip, slowly lowering her sword while reaching out with her free hand to help Jack climb up out of the grave. He took her hand, but instead pulled her down inside—throwing her against Kidd while he took advantage of the moment to climb free. He snatched his sword from the ground, placing the key around his neck with a salute to the pair of women he was leaving behind.

"It was a valiant effort," Jack declared, "but not just anyone is capable of besting Captain Jack—"

The mill wheel behind that had once been bolted to the building behind the grave yard came rolling down the hill faster than anyone could have anticipated. The ground briefly rumbled as the wheel crashed through the fence then rolled directly over Sparrow, snatching him up in the process.

"Bastard!" Kidd called after him, climbing out of the grave to retrieve her blade and chase down the wheel.

As Anne also climbed free, grunting with exhaustion as her bruised body ached, her eyes widened and her brow furrowed with confusion by the sight that awaited her.

Atop the wheel, Norrington and Turned continued to battle. Miraculously they managed to keep their balance as their blades clashed against the other and the wheel turned beneath them. From within the wheel, Sparrow looked like a fancy rat as he chased after the key that had fallen from his neck. And from behind, Kidd chased the wheel—hiking her knees up to tread through the tall grass as she shouted Scottish profanities at the top of her lungs.

Anne joined the chase after retrieving her own blade, only stopping her run just long enough to wave to Elizabeth, Pintel, and Ragetti before continuing without a second thought. By the time Anne caught up to the group, the wheel was no longer in sight. Sparrow and Kidd had one another at an arm's length, swords directed toward the other's throat. Sparrow had the key, but Kidd had the chest.

"Where's Norrington?" Anne asked, breaking the tense silence.

"He preferred to remain on the move," Sparrow replied.

However, Anne's attention was quickly distracted by the scene ongoing just behind the stand-off. Another pirate had made an appearance, only this one was missing its head.  The headless body slammed against the trunk of a palm tree multiple times while the unfamiliar voice of its head called out from the ground.

"Jones's crew," Kidd explained before Anne could scream. "They're stuck between life and death in exchange for pretty much an eternity of servitude. When death becomes an ungranted wish of mercy."

This explanation did little to console Anne and she screamed anyway, backing away slowly as she'd never seen anything that might be considered supernatural... aside from her brief run-in with the kraken that is.

Kidd sighed, rolling her eyes. "You'll just bring more of them here if you keep that up, Princess."

"Follow my voice! Follow my voice! To the left, uh... No, to the right... Go to the left..." The Pirate continued to call up to its body. "No... That's a tree."

"Oh, shut it," Jack demanded. He then turned back to Kidd. "It seems that once again we're stuck."

"What's it worth to you?" Kidd asked, beginning the negotiations.

"What do you want?" Sparrow replied, refusing to give up any bargaining power.

"The Pearl," Kidd did not hesitate to present her demands.

"Absolutely not."

"The Pearl for the Heart," Kidd repeated herself. "Once you stab the heart, you won't need the Pearl and I'm in need of a ship and crew. In your transition of power, I transition into power."

"Only after I stab the heart," Jack confirmed.

"After you've stabbed the heart," Kidd agreed. "And I'll be here to ensure you don't get cold feet when the time comes."

Sparrow contemplated her offer as she intended extended the chest. After a tense moment of silence, he finally snatched the chest from her hands—dropping to the ground to unlock the box and retrieve the beating heart.

"And what of our deal?" Anne asked, crossing her arms with disapproval.

"You're still welcome to join my crew," Sparrow confirmed, additionally muttering under his breath as he stared down at the heart, "it'll just be aboard the Dutchman rather than the Pearl..."

Approaching from a distance, Jones's crew could be heard. Once certain the heart was inside, Jack closed the chest and quickly made his way back toward the beach. The other two followed close behind, skeptically watching their step believing Sparrow wouldn't hesitate to leave either of them behind. They were the first of those that had went ashore to return to the beach.

Sparrow immediately began to frantically search through the longboat. "Jar of dirt!"

He opened the jar, dumping some of the contents out into the boat just as the Dutchman crew arrived. It was quickly three vs three with more enemies approaching as Kidd, Anne, and Sparrow defended themselves.

Anne was driven back toward the beach, wading through the shallow water of the sea, but now unable to see what Kidd and Sparrow were up to as she was forced away from the others. From the jungle, a pair of screams were heard as the mill wheel came rolling down the beach and finally stopped once it hit the water. Norrington and Turner crawled free, dizzily falling back down into the sea with nausea painted on their pale faces.

Norrington used the side of the longboat for support to regain his balance and breath, but also catching a detail that Anne had failed to see: the reason why Sparrow had been emptying his jar was to make room to conceal something far more precious.

He then jumped into battle, stepping beside Anne in defense as she'd become overwhelmed. Relief flooded Anne's face. "James!"

He nodded curtly, yet there was a flicker of doubt that shadowed his eyes. "I've figured a way out... but we have to go now."

"What?" Delight filled Anne's eyes, but it was stripped away just as quickly as she deflected a blow meant for her head. She released a grunt of exertion, fighting the barnacle-covered pirate back long enough to focus on Norrington. "Then let's grab my brother and go."

"There's no time," Norrington shook his head, "We must go now."

"I can't leave him behind, he's the crown—"

As Anne tried to protest, Turner was knocked out to her right and collapsed in the long boat. Elizabeth gasped, interrupting all other conversation.

Sparrow shook his head. "Leave him lie! Unless you plan on using him to hit something with."

Elizabeth looked around frantically. The group—all eight of them—had been forced back against the long boat with little space to defend themselves. "We're not getting out of this."

"Not with the chest," Norrington added. He then paused before shouting out a set of instruction as he snatched the chest. "Into the boat."

"You're mad," Elizabeth exclaimed.

A soft smile flickered across Norrington's face before a more serious one—not to be taken lightly—replaced it. "Don't wait for me."

"James—" Anne tried to dissuade him, but it was clear he'd made up his mind.

"Best of luck to you and your brother." And then he took off through the water, back onto the beach, and disappeared into the jungle.

Sparrow didn't hesitate to take advantage of the distraction. "Uh, I say we respect his final wish."

"Aye!" The rest of the crew—with the exception of Anne and the unconscious Turner—all shouted in agreement as they jumped into the longboat to complete their escape as the Dutchman crew chased after Norrington into the jungle.

Only once the remaining seven were back aboard the Pearl did Turner wake with a gasp, frantically looking around before relaxing as his eyes settled on Elizabeth. "What happened to the chest?"

"Norrington took it to draw them off," Elizabeth explained.

"You're pulling too hard!" Pintel exclaimed, while trying to bring up the long boat.

Ragetti shook his head. "You're not pulling hard enough!"

The argument continued as Gibbs pressed his way past the others to reach Sparrow's side. "Where's the Commodore?"

"He fell behind," Sparrow simply explained, caressing his jar of dirt as the Pearl made its way further out into more open water.

Gibbs's concern melted away as he nervously clasped his hands together. "My prayers be with him. Best not wallow in our grief."

"That's it?!" Anne exclaimed, throughout her arms in the air with exasperation. "He sacrifices his life and we don't bat an eye or offer a word of respect?"

"I don't think you fully understand the gravity of the situation, lad," Sparrow replied, setting his jar down at the helm.

Gibbs nodded his head. "Besides the bright side is: You're back. And made it off free and clear."

And as if the Sea herself had heard his reply, the waters opened and the Flying Dutchman surfaced like a beast prepared to devour her meal.