Elizabeth woke from a semi-restful sleep, her eyes fogged and her limbs heavy.
In fact, everything about her felt heavy these days, she mused with a steadying hand on her belly, as she struggled to sit upright and stand from the bed.
"I swear," she muttered under her breath, knowing that she waddled as she walked. "After this baby is born if that man so much as looks at me sideways with that gleam in his eyes I will have him in irons."
She leaned against the doorway of their bedchamber, looking into the light filled space that served as their keeping room in the galleon where her family dwelled. Instantly her rancor evaporated for the sight before her.
"Look at my picture, Papa," demanded Alexandra, their oldest. Her blond braid fell down her back, and green eyes undoubtedly gleamed with some mischief. "See? Mommy's the King and I'm the Princess and you're the Queen."
James' mouth twisted, fighting a battle with a smile, which he lost badly in the end. "I'm not the Queen, sweeting, it doesn't work that way. I'm just the Papa."
Alexandra smiled cheekily, so resembling her mother in that moment it was uncanny. "That's not what Uncle Jack says."
James' smile dampened a little, his eyes narrowing. "Well, Uncle Jack suffers from the impression that he is funny."
"Uncle Jack is funny," said Alexandra with all the authority a five year old can possibly muster, lifting her chin defiantly. "And I hope he comes back soon. Last time he visited he brought me a doll but this time I hope he brings me a sword."
James' smile returned. "That's a terrifying thought. You do know, my dear girl, that Uncle Jack has other directives in life other than bringing you presents?"
Alexandra laughed as though her father had just said the funniest thing in the world, and went back to the table to continue drawing. Young Jamie, age two, who sat on his father's knee, joined in the mirth before returning his fat little fist to his mouth, sucking with gusto. "And where is Jamie in your picture?" asked James wryly. Alexandra often left out her younger brother, no doubt remembering a time fondly when she was the sole recipient of her parents' and the Cove's attention.
Alexandra scoffed. "He's too little," she explained, as though it should be obvious.
It was then that James noticed Elizabeth standing in the doorway, and he smiled in greeting. Elizabeth's heart positively ached for how handsome he was in that moment, glowing with such perfect contentment amidst his children. They technically employed a nursemaid, but the girl hardly ever had anything to do, James so relished spending time with his progeny. James accepted the new command of his small but growing crew with great pleasure, and he led them about the cove on adventures daily, to the beach or the market or the library, day trips in their little cutter or even sometimes the Artemis while Elizabeth continued to see to her duties for the Cove.
Alexandra was smart as a whip, and under her father's tutelage could already read and write. Such intelligence in a child so young was unnerving at times, and when Uncle Jack came to visit her powers were often put to dubious purpose, as was demonstrated in the Great Biscuit Debacle of '35. (Rather than raid the cookie jar, Uncle Jack incited the robbery of the whole bakery with the help of Alexandra and some of the other island children, much to the dismay of the Pirate King, who had to pay for the whole day's inventory and was faced with the tricky dilemma of how to explain to her young daughter that stealing was bad, whilst they inhabited an island full of pirates. James had watched with a twinkle in his eye, somewhat gratified that for the first time Elizabeth's selective moral code caused her some difficulty. Jack did not help matters when later he drew young Alexandra aside and assured her that the only thing she did wrong was get caught.)
Elizabeth entered the room and glanced down at Alexandra's picture. It was being modified so that the Princess was now brandishing a wickedly curved sword. A prophetic scribing, no doubt. Terrifying, indeed. With a chuckle she kissed her daughter's hair, an affection which was barely acknowledged in the girl's intent focus upon her drawing.
"Did you have a good rest?" asked James, receiving a kiss from his beloved wife.
"Somewhat." This far along there was no comfortable way to lie down, and Elizabeth was beyond ready to have this baby out. Any day now, had said the midwife. Elizabeth stooped to kiss young Jamie's dark head of hair, receiving an appreciative gurgle and an enthusiastic greeting of Mamamamaama! Slowly Elizabeth lowered herself into the chair beside James, and noticed an opened letter upon the side table. "Who is that from?"
"Our wayward Nephew sends his compliments," said James, handing Elizabeth the missive. "And the cycle of your corrupt influence is officially complete. Constance gave birth to a boy in May." Elizabeth smiled impishly; even when she was a girl, her dimples showed only when she was involved in some mischief. James had not noticed the correlation, surprisingly, until the same trait appeared in their daughter, and he knew to beware.
Sheridan had taken Elizabeth's advice not long after their eventful departure from Nassau, making off with an all-too-willing Constance Dover to the port of Charlestown, where they were married and settled. Luckily for James, the Baron could not express his displeasure directly, if only because he could not find his brother. As far as England knew, Sir James Norrington, first Royal Governor of the Bahamas, had been killed in his efforts to thwart piracy in the Caribbean.
Little did they know…
Sheridan now made a swift business in the colonies selling the Brethren's smuggled and stolen goods to colonists hungry for merchandise that did not bear the King's crippling taxes.
As though he could sense her looking at him, James reached for her hand, planting a kiss upon her knuckles. There it was, that telltale gleam, and Elizabeth felt her insides melt. "Have I mentioned today how happy I am that you kidnapped me, Your Highness?" asked James.
Elizabeth smiled wryly. "Oh? It was one of my grander schemes, to be sure," she teased airily. "I am rather pleased with the result, myself."
James chuckled. "May I remind you of that when the time comes?" he said lightly, glancing down at her swollen belly. "Last time you directed some rather unmentionable threats at my person."
"Well, our sweet Jamie here was a rather large baby," defended Elizabeth in a cooing tone, touching the boy's soft cheek gently. The little boy smiled up at his Mamma, and drooled on her a tad too. One look at her baby boy, and she knew she would do it all over again and more to see him into the world. Sometimes the ferocity of her love for her children even took her aback; as though she was surprised that she could harbor something so strong and burning inside her without scorching to pieces.
"Well, hopefully our little Lydia will be a bit more merciful on her mother."
"Oh, little Sherry you mean? You lost that bet fair and square, Sir James," Elizabeth reminded him, laughing.
James huffed, regretting ever making such a bet upon how long England could abstain from war with France with his nephew on such high stakes. He sincerely hoped their next child would be a girl, if for anything not to have to endure Sheridan's smug smirk the next time they visited.
"We'll see about that." James suspected Elizabeth and his nephew conspired against him, as usual, but as far as he knew there was no possible way to influence the sex of a child in the womb.
Alexandra drew her father into a game of dominoes upon the floor, and James decamped to the Turkish carpet, securing young Jamie between his long legs as he played with his daughter. Jamie immediately claimed one of the ivory tiles for himself, putting it in his mouth.
Elizabeth looked down at them with wonder; never could she have imagined such a domestic scene taking place in her keeping room could fill her with such utter contentment. Just the Papa, she scoffed. So humble. James was a decorated war hero, a Knight of the Order of the Bath, a man of rare quality, and someday Alexandra would understand. But more than that, James was the anchor of their family. Their rock. Their heart. Just when she thought she could not love this man more, she felt her heart expand to the point of bursting, again and again.
James claimed that she had kidnapped him, but Elizabeth wasn't so sure she herself had not been the kidnapped, what seemed like a lifetime ago in Nassau. His very first act of piracy had been the feat of stealing her heart right out from under her nose. After pulling off that brave and perilous caper, she imagined actually becoming a member of the Brethren paled in comparison. It could be said that James Norrington had been a pirate waiting to happen all along, and Elizabeth couldn't have been happier for it.
The End
Author's Notes
Thank you everyone who has followed this to its end! I hope you enjoyed, and your comments are so greatly appreciated!