Bustling around the grand bedroom of the children's quarters, Elizabeth puts away various toys in the heavy wooden chest at the foot of the children's bed. Not bothering to ring for a servant, she also quickly reorganizes the books along the dark shelves lining the wall in the playroom. Proceeding back into the bedroom, she lights a few more candles. Closing the large wooden shutters, she nodded as the room warmed against the chill of the wintry December night. Picking up her book, she arranges herself onto the gold and white striped chaise lounge sitting next to the children's bed. It will be a long night, no doubt. It always is in keeping watch over sick children.

"Mama, tell me a story!" the little boy sniffs. Wiping his running nose with a kerchief, he glances at his mother through glassy eyes. Coughing a bit, he lies back in the soft blankets of the rather large bed. Dark brows knitted with concern, he coughs again. Seeing the way his already pink cheeks redden, Elizabeth put down her book. As he sits up, the shadows of movement reflect off the walls from the bright lanterns and candles lit throughout the bedroom. Quickly taking a seat on the bed, her silken robe rustles in the relative silence of the room. Feeling his forehead with her hand, she can't help but nod with a satisfied grin; he feels a bit cooler to the touch than before.

"You should sleep, you know, Bennet" she murmurs, "You'll make the fever go away faster-"

"I can't sleep," he snorts,"Especially with Georgie snoring so." Nodding to sleeping, blonde-haired girl splayed out on her stomach in the sheets next to him, he crossed his arms with reproach. Her pale skin prinkled pink with the shared fever, Georgie doesn't respond the criticism. She only mutters for a bit as Elizabeth mother draws up the blankets around her. "You would think for such a baby, she'd at least prove a bit quieter," he mutters with a roll of his eyes.

"Play nice, my dear" his mother warns, "She's only four-years old."

"And I am seven, but I don't snore like she does," he shrugs, "Besides, I'm still waiting for my story," he grouses.

"Keep acting like that and there shall be none, Bennet" his mother quietly says, though her dark eyes narrow with warning.

"Sorry," he mutters, though he grins a bit. Especially as she leans forward, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. His complaints are forgiven. "Now, may I get my story? Please?" he politely continues.

"Only if you promise to go to sleep afterwards."

"Is it a long story?"

"Yes," she replies. Silently climbing over him, she now sits in the center of the bed, in between the two children. Leaning back on the intricately carved headboard, she gathers Georgie into her arms. Still steadily sleeping, the child doesn't respond, save for curling her little fingers into her mother's nightgown. Resting the her daughters head in the crook of her shoulder, Elizabeth gestures for Bennet to come closer. He does, leaning on her shoulder as she throws a comforting arm about him.

"Is the story about someone you know?" he continues, nodding with interest.

"It happened before you were born and so long ago that cannot claim to know him completely. However, I know of him-" Suddenly interrupted by the opening of the door in the playroom next door, she swiftly glances to the entranceway of the bedroom. A smile tugging at her lips, she's met by the sight of her husband.

"Lizzie," he yawns, tall form and messy dark hair outlined against the soft light of the candle stick he carries, "When are you coming to bed?"

"Not for a while, I fear," she replies. She can't help but grin as he gives her an exaggerated pout of supposed offense.

"Come now-"

"Perhaps you wish to stay for a story?" she beckons, laughing as he quickly strides over to them. Settling the candlestick on the table next to the doorway of the bedroom, he plants a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek before stretching out across the foot of the bed. Elbow resting near the footboard, head upon his hand, he settles into the soft blankets.

"And how are my little ones?" he murmurs.

"I'm fine, but mama says I'm still sick," the boy pouts, crossing his arms.

"Considering how red your cheeks are, I'd say you're still running quite the fever, lad," his father replies with a grin, eyes dark in the dancing light. "And my girl?"

"Georgiana is still ill, though she's slept through the night," Elizabeth replies, handing off the sleeping girl to her father. He takes her in his arms, settling her in next to him.

"It will be some days until she is fully recovered. Hopefully, they will both recover within a few days," he replies, absentmindedly stroking Georgie's curling, golden hair. "Now, what of this story?"

"It is about man she knows," Bennet shrugs.

"No, it is about a man, I know of," she quickly corrects him. "Only those closest to him may claim to know him best. I was never so privileged to know him, as we are divided by time and circumstance," she distantly continues. "So here I shall tell the tale of a great man."

"Some say he was too worthy for his own good. Some say he was a fool who thought and expected to too much of others. Some even call him a traitor to his station. But to those who knew his true heart, he was indeed the best of men. For any with eyes and some semblance of grace knew James Bennet Norrington as a man of honor, dignity, and most importantly, friendship. And thusly, here I shall tell the tale of a hero, in the Legacy of the Sea Wolf."