Of Love And Lords

Disclaimer: I own no characters or the plot of which William Golding created. Though I do own Emma Sinclair and her family, not really though…technically.

Summary: A girl's uncle offers to take her flying as a present for her fifteenth birthday. Though her uncle would be on the job, and would be transporting an umpteen amount of boys to their destination, nothing could shatter Emma's dream of finally being able to fly. During the flight, the plane encounters a horrible tropical storm, sending the fiery plane, crashing down into the ocean. Emma Sinclair awakes on the sandy beach, only to be surprised at having two boys confusedly starring at her. And so the battles of love and lords begin.

A/N: Hey everybody. Not many who wrote the fan fictions involving a girl on the island as well as the boys were updating, so I decided to take it into my own hands. I'm also really tired of all the stories involving 'slash,' not to offend anyone who's fond of it. So I hope you enjoy my story as much as I did writing it. This stories main ship is a triangle between Ralph, Jack, and Emma (An invented character), and I'll be updating plenty during this month, though with school approaching, expect the updates to come less frequently. Everyone's ages are altered to fit the mature situations in this story, so everyone is older then they really are in the original 'Lord Of The Flies'. I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

A young girl lay daintily in her bed of purple satin sheets. The sun's warm morning rays shined through her French Windows, illuminating the girl's ebony black hair. She began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing two striking green orbs. A smile spread across her pink lips as she untangled herself from her sheets. She strode over to the large Victorian mirror leaned against the wall next to the bedroom door. The date was March 25th. It was the girl's fifteenth birthday. She twirled around on her toes looking for changes in her, some sort of sign that she was now fifteen; a whole year closer to becoming a woman, though technically she was a woman as she had already gotten her period. She frustratingly observed herself. Though she had begun filling into her more womanly figure at thirteen, she needed something more. The mounds on her chest were quite appealing to her (as well as her male classmates), yet she was in dire need of more curves, though she had hips. The girl's bedroom door opened suddenly, making her heart beat quickly against her rib cage. In came a little boy of about four. He had raven black hair like his sister, and chocolate brown eyes like her Father's. Though, she was the one who had her Mother's eyes…her dead Mother's eyes.

"Happy birthday Emma." piped the little boy with a sweet British accent, hugging her around the waist.

"Thank-you Michael." said Emma, bending down and placing a soft kiss on his cheek, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes.

Emma then noticed her Father passing the open door of her bedroom. He took two steps back, and came in with a delighted smile. His thinning brown hair peeked out from under his hat as his brown eyes glowed and slightly watered at the sight of his daughter.

"Emma, darling; happy birthday," said her Father, squeezing Emma into a hug. "Uncle Charles will be passing by later on to give you the present I've been telling you about. We thought of it all by ourselves, of course." He continued, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank-you Father. I really can't wait! Have a wonderful day at work!" said Emma profoundly.

Emma's Father adjusted his tie and suit collar in Emma's mirror and then said, "Have a wonderful time luv. Good-bye you two." He winked and then left.

Her Father, once again, looked horrible. He had begun to loose hair and had large dark bags underneath his once content eyes. For fortnights after her Mother's death, Emma could hear her Father sobbing and calling out of his wife's name during his short lapses of sleep.

"Emma," asked Michael, tugging at Emma's nightgown sleeve, interrupting her thoughts. "What will your present be?"

"I honestly don't know, but knowing Uncle Charles, it's bound to be good," said Emma pausing to glance at her brother. "What would you say to some breakfast?"

Michael simply grabbed Emma's hand with his own pudgy one and they slipped down the stairs to the kitchen.

After a hearty breakfast of tea and buttered scones, Emma left to change for her day with her Uncle. Emma stood in front of her closet and decided to change into a strapless yellow sundress and a matching weaved hat with a sunflower in the middle of it. She zipped up the dress slowly, having to move the zip to the front to be able to reach it. Emma then realized she needed shoes, so she pulled up a chair from her vanity to the closet and climbed upon it. On her toes, she was finally able to reach a brown shoebox. She clambered down from the chair and opened it eagerly. There were the shoes her Mother had given her for her last birthday. A pair of white opened toed heels. Emma slid them on and stood in front of her mirror. She definitely looked her age. An idea then struck her.

Make-up. Emma thought with delight.

Emma headed for the bathroom and searched through her Mother's make-up. The anniversary of her death was slowly approaching. She was tragically killed in a train accident…or so they said. Emma knew her Mother all too well. It was on purpose. Suicide, in other words. While applying rouge to the apples of her cheeks and peach coloured lipstick, she wondered if her Mother was in Heaven; though she knew that most certainly; she'd be in Hell, if anywhere. Ending your own life was a sin, no matter if it was justified. Stunningly beautiful, yet terribly melancholy…her Mother. Emma's train of thoughts was broken when she heard the doorbell ring. Emma ran down the long winding stairs, skipping steps clumsily. She threw open the door and found her Uncle. Handsome as ever, his green eyes; also like her Mother's, shone as he combed through his blonde hair with the tips of his fingers.

"Uncle Charles! I'm so glad to see you! Please come in." said Emma happily motioning him inside.

"Emma Sinclair, my dear, dear girl! Don't you look smashing!" said Charles, hanging his coat, only to reveal a white button up shirt filled with many badges and a black tie, his piloting suit.

"Thank-you, Uncle," said Emma pausing, beginning to step into the living room. "Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

"Oh no, my dear! Thank-you; but no. We should be leaving soon in fact. Once we grab little Michael we can be on our way." said Charles impatiently, looking around the room for his nephew.

"Actually Uncle, he's next door with his friend Teddy. He'll most likely be staying the night since Father's meeting will be going late tomorrow, and I have plans to catch up with by friend Darla since spring break is almost over." said Emma guiltily, knowing her Brother would be missing out, though he probably wouldn't notice.

"Well in that case, we can be leaving." said her Uncle, grabbing his coat hurriedly.

"Please Uncle Charles, what is it?" asked Emma pleadingly, hoping for the answer she was thinking of.

"Alright, I'll give you a hint," said her Uncle, putting a finger to his prominent chin. "You've always dreamed of doing it, and your Mother loved the idea as well as the thrill of it." He concluded, his white teeth shining as he grinned.

"Flying! You're taking me flying!" said Emma, throwing her arms around her Uncle and grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes, yes alright! Now hurry and get your things or we'll be late!" said her Uncle nonchalantly.

With a smile plastered on her lips, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She hastily opened her bedside drawer and searched wildly for something. Finally, she pulled out a golden, heart shaped locket from under a pile of papers. She gently opened the locket and glanced at a beautiful lady, starring back at her with almost identical green almond shaped eyes. The woman's soft brown hair fell down in tendrils, framing her face. Emma would wear this in honor of her Mother, Virginia Sinclair. In honor of something they both loved doing, their utmost connection. A pang of sadness hit Emma's heart and she felt her eyes prickling with forming tears. The way her Father's voice dropped when he had told Emma and her brother that their Mother, their beautiful, seemingly happy Mother was dead. That she wouldn't be coming home to make her famous Shepard's Pie, nor to sing Michael to sleep. In Emma's mind she cried out for her Mother.

Mum, if you can hear me…we miss you. Please watch over Michael, he's young, and needs a Mother's love. I need your love too, Mum. Father is terribly sad. I can see it in his eyes. Please keep us safe from harm, Mum. And know Mum, we love you, and we wish you were still with us. Thought Emma, doubtfully wondering if her Mother could hear her.

"Emm-arr! Let's not wait for the grass to grow!" yelled Charles from down the stairs.

"I'm coming!" said Emma clasping the locket securely around her neck and running down the stairs, her curls bouncing against her shoulders.

"Finally," said her Uncle, sighing and holding open the door, smiling at the sight of Emma's locket. "Ladies first." He concluded, offering her out first.

Emma left proudly followed by her Uncle. She was a lady now, and she was going to face her Mother's death with confidence, just as a lady would. She walked gracefully out the door and down the front steps of her home. She glanced at the flowers her Mother had planted in the garden, Camellias. She picked one quickly and smelled it. Its scent gave her the hope to continue in life without her Mother, though she knew her Mother would be watching over her, no matter where she was. It was all the reminders of her Mother that made this true. Her Mother was with her everywhere. The things her Mother had left behind for her, Michael, and her Father would help them remember all the fond memories they had experienced. As they approached Charles' automobile, Emma's Uncle walked ahead and opened the car door for her. He shut it once she was inside comfortably. And they were off, and when she was back, she'd be even closer to her Mother, in mind as well as body.