OBX Pirate AU

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/51933127.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: F/M
Fandom: Outer Banks (TV)
Relationships: Sarah Cameron & John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron/Topper Thornton,
Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron & Kiara "Kie"
Carrera & Cleo & Pope Heyward & JJ Maybank & John B. Routledge,
Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Characters: Sarah Cameron, Topper Thornton, Ward Cameron, Rose (Outer Banks),
Wheezie Cameron, Rafe Cameron, John B. Routledge, JJ Maybank, Pope
Heyward, Kiara "Kie" Carrera, Cleo (Outer Banks), Kelce (Outer
Banks), Other Character Tags to Be Added
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean,
Historical Inaccuracy, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-11-30 Updated: 2024-01-02 Words: 6,791 Chapters: 2/?
 OBX Pirate AU
by ASFPerez

Summary

In early 18th century North Carolina, Sarah Cameron is the eldest daughter of wealthy
governor Ward Cameron. When she discovers that life beyond Port Eight and the entire
Kildare settlement is much more exciting and sinister than she could imagine, Sarah takes a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience it for herself. But, she'll hardly be alone to
navigate these perilous waters.
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Sarah remembers the first time she set eyes on the ocean. Her father had taken her and her
brother out on the water along with Captain Peterkin of the States’ Navy. The Kook was a
massive ship, the largest of its fleet, and Sarah felt like a princess when she stepped on board.
She walked to the front of the ship and took in a deep breath, reveling in the fresh air as the
salty mist of seawater hit her face. “It’s too salty” complained her brother, his face turned up
in disgust. Sarah outstretched her arms to either side of her, pretending she could fly right
over the water like one of those sea birds. She closed her eyes as the breeze began to sweep
through her golden hair and for a moment she had forgotten where she was. A sway of the
ship had caused her to lose her footing and almost slip when she felt a pair of hands catch
her. “Careful darling, it’s dangerous to be this close to the edge” her father warned.
“Father?” she queried, “Have you ever seen a pirate ship before? I mean a real pirate
ship!” By the look on his face, she could tell that her question had caught him by surprise.“A
pirate ship? And where is this newfound curiosity coming from?”
Sarah’s eyes were wide with wonder and desperation, which caused him to chuckle.
“Oh yes, many times my dear. It is quite a terrible sight.” His answer intrigued her and she
pressed on.
“What do they look like?”
Her father proceeded to stand tall, lifting his arms to mimic the size of something large and
formidable. “Huuuge ships with big, scary cannons and black sails! Their wooden structures
rotten and damaged by the harshness of the sea!” Sarah gawked at the thought, her brother
rolling his eyes at their father’s exaggeration. She pondered on the thought before inquiring
again. “Father?!” she gasped, “Have you ever seen a pirate before?”
“Ayeee, I have!” teased her father and she laughed at his poor attempt to imitate one.
“That’s ridiculous!” her brother exclaimed. He had been eyeing down their father, his arms
crossed and brows furrowed. Sarah puffed her cheeks in retort to her brother’s cynicism.
“Rafe, how would you know?!” She balled up her fists in frustration. “Father, tell him!”
Their father had his back towards them, and for a moment Sarah had thought something was
wrong. She stepped towards him, reiterating her request, and that’s when he popped up
towards them, a cloth tied around one eye and hideous teeth blackened with coal residue.
Both children screamed as he started to chase them around the front of the deck, catching
Sarah in his pursuit and swinging her around like a pirate who’d captured a helpless maiden.
Her screaming turned to laughter as he eased her back to the floor. Their laughter persisted
until a voice interrupted.
“Ship is heading back to port, Sir” informed a younger woman dressed in a dark blue
waistcoat. Her father removed the cloth from his head and proceeded to use it to wipe the
coal from his teeth. He turned back to Sarah and crouched down before her, placing his
hands on her tiny shoulders.
“I have a surprise,” he whispered. Her father reached into his coat pocket with one hand and
slowly revealed a shiny golden key hanging by a thin chain. Sarah's eyes gleamed with
captivation. “This is something very special, you see, It was given to me by a pirate a long
time ago,” he continued.
“A pirate…gave you this?” she asked quietly.
“Indeed. It is said to be the key to a lost treasure,” her father proceeded to place the chain
around her neck. “Now it belongs to you,” he said sincerely, “As long as you wear it, you
will always be protected.”
Sarah looked down at the key, admiring its intricate shape and how it glistened in the
sunlight. She then took it in hand and ran a thumb over it. It was smooth except for the three
divots that rested at its end. She momentarily thought about what treasure it could unveil if
given the right keyhole.
“Father? Why are you giving this to me?” He smiled back, his eyes soft and endearing.
“Because you are my little treasure,” he answered. Sarah beamed, oblivious to the presence
of her brother who had stood only a pace away from them. He turned his back to them,
resting his chin against the railing as he gazed back at the water.
Sarah’s eyes glanced upon the trinket once more and noticed a new detail, a minuscule
engraving along the stem of the key. Upon closer inspection, she could make out the letters
J.R. clear as day.
The urge to ask more questions arose, curious as to the history behind this key, but as she
looked up to her father, she was met with nothing but fire. The ship was engulfed in flames
and she immediately ran to its edge, fear clouding her mind and tears streaming down her
face. In the distance, amongst the raging blaze and blinding smoke, she could barely make
out the outline of a ship. A ship with sails as black as the ash the fire had left behind.

Sarah’s eyes shot open when she heard a quick knock at her door. She sat up in her bed,
adjusting her eyes to the still-darkened room around her. A sliver of sunlight peeked through
the small opening between her curtains, illuminating the golden key that rested on her
nightstand. The glint caught her eye, and she remembered the sudden shift in her dream that
had startled and awoken her with a sharpness in her lungs. She closed her eyes for a moment
and tried to soothe herself, slowly inhaling and exhaling until she eased her racing heart. She
heard another rap on the door.

“Sarah!” the familiar voice of her stepmother muffled from the other side of the door.

She swiftly bunched up her linen sheets, attempting to cover herself, before answering back.
“Yes?” she piped.

“Sarah, darling, are you decent?” her stepmother asked, a veil of urgency and hint of
frustration behind her voice. The woman suddenly opened the door and entered the room.

“Goodness, Sarah! You’re still in bed.” The older woman made haste, drawing the curtains
open to reveal the harshness of the sun’s light. Sarah shielded her eyes immediately, though
her stepmother seemed hardly bothered by her visual discomfort. Following the older woman
were two ladies’ maids, one holding a large box in her arms. Her stepmother had gestured to
the other maid, and she quickly began to draw a bath on the far side of the room. Then she
turned back to her stepdaughter.

“Are you feeling well, dear?” she approached the side of Sarah’s bed and grasped her wrist,
examining it as if something had been out of place. “You’re looking awfully pale.”
“I’m fine, Rose,” Sarah answered quietly. Rose released her limp wrist and straightened her
back. Her features reflected a more bitter demeanor as if she had taken offense to her
response.

“Sarah, what have I said about addressing me? You are to call me by my titles, dear. Lady
Cameron or Mrs. Cameron,” she conjured up a grin, “or, if you feel so inclined to do so,
“mother” would also suffice.” Rose had adjusted herself, fully expecting their previous
interaction to be corrected, though that never came. Sarah did not respond, and her face bore
a frown once again. Lady Cameron cleared her throat and turned to the maid beside her. “I
have a gift,” she spoke. She opened the box in the maid’s hands to reveal a rather attractive
article.

When Rose gently removed it from the box, Sarah’s full attention was seized. There she held
up one beautiful gown, a mesmerizing soft pink fabric with lace cuffs on its sleeves and
golden threads across its bodice. Beautifully arranged faux roses adorned its neckline,
accompanied by ribbons meant to emulate leaves. Her mother smiled widely as Sarah became
visibly entranced by the dress.

“I knew you would love it. You’ll be wearing it for tonight’s Midsummer ball. Courtesy of
your father.”

“My father?” Sarah questioned. She couldn’t remember the last time her father's judgment
was ever considered for anything that she wore, not since the death of his last wife, her
mother. She figured this decision of his to become involved in her matters once more was
brought upon by Rose’s constant efforts to improve the family’s overall relationship. It was a
nice gesture on the surface, but both she and her siblings were headstrong, undoubtedly so.

“Thank you, Ros-“ Sarah stopped herself and, at that moment, managed to reevaluate how the
rest of her day would transpire had she neglected to address Rose “properly”. “Lady
Cameron,” she chose wisely to end in neutral territory. Not quite “Rose,” not quite “mother.”

A butler had approached the open door with a light knock. “Mrs. Cameron, a visitor awaits
you downstairs.”

Rose turned to the abrupt message, a confused look gracing her features. “And who might
this visitor be, Bartholomew?” she inquired.

“Mr. Thornton, my lady” he responded “He wishes to speak with Young Sarah.”

“Ah!” her brows lifted with enthusiasm. “Well, how wonderful! She will be right down.”
Rose shooed him away and hurried to the edge of the room where Sarah’s bath sat warm and
unused. “Quickly now,” she clapped her hands twice, and one of the maids proceeded to
guide Sarah into the bath. As she began to pour warm water over her hair, Rose took her
leave. Swiftly, she made her way to the stairs, where a young man stood waiting below.

“Mr. Thornton!” Rose exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise this is!” Rose gracefully descended
the stairs, one hand on the railing to keep her steady. Approaching the young man, she
presented her hand to him, which he properly accepted and brushed with a kiss.
“I apologize if this is of poor timing, but it was in my best interest to possibly see Miss
Cameron today.” The young man spoke with such poise, his voice smooth like silk yet
perspicacious. “I would love to take her riding along the coast. It is, arguably, the best time of
the season to enjoy its scenery before the storms roll in.”

“Of course!” Rose adjusted her posture, craning back her neck while projecting her voice. “It
would be splendid if she got some time to enjoy the fresh air instead of being cooped up in
that room all day long. But, as you must know, Mr. Thornton, not many ladies her age
gravitate towards that sort of pastime.” She was referring to the horses of course, and even
more so, the act of riding them. Rose grinned and invited him to take a seat on one of the
soft, plush chairs that decorated the illustrious guest room that hosted so many of his class
before him. Tea had already been set out for her to pour the two a cup. Across from him, she
gently took her seat.

“Yes, my lady. However,” her eyes peeked out over the teacup that rested at her mouth as he
began to speak again, “it is my understanding that Miss Cameron rather enjoys the leisure of
horseback. She has even expressed her desire to acquire a steed of her own.” Rose struggled
to hold back her tea as she swallowed harshly. Mr. Thornton’s statement had caught her by
surprise, and rather unpleasantly.

“Mr. Thornton, I hardly think it’s appropriate-“

“Sarah!” The young lady’s appearance had been abrupt, standing in the doorway of the piano
room only for Topper to notice moments later. He stood up, eyes wide in awe of the utter
beauty that existed before him. Sarah had been dressed in a gorgeous outing gown, its creamy
white fabric glowing in the natural light of the house. It did not have as strict of a shape as
her gown for the Midsummer ball, but still harbored corset boning, making her figure
slimmer in the waist. Its bodice had a rosy pink ribbon laced across it and curved around her
shoulders to meet in the back. Her hair had been groomed, though not too extravagantly.
Topper came back to his senses when she spoke.

“Lovely to see you, Mr. Thornton.” She gave a slight bow of her head. Topper had delayed in
his response, hastily walking over to Sarah and gently placing a kiss on her hand as well
before looking up to meet her eyes. They were soft and kind, harboring a sense of warmth
that he always felt when being around her. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean below and he
marveled at the sight of them.

“Ahem,” Rose cleared her throat as the two shared a moment of admiration which she felt
had gone on long enough. “My dear Sarah, Mr. Thornton here would like the pleasure of
having your company today for some light leisurely activities.”

“Horse riding, to be exact,” interjected Topper as Rose visibly grimaced.

Sarah’s interest was piqued by the offer. “Oh!,” she beamed, ensuring her audible excitement
brought irritation down onto the Cameron matriarch. She could see from the corner of her eye
that Rose was about to voice her disapproval when she cut in front of her, blocking her view
of Topper. “Well, best be going then!” she exclaimed. She firmly grasped Topper’s hand,
which earned her a look of shock, and headed for the door, leaving Rose no time to protest.
Once they were outside, she slowly let go of his hand, to his disappointment and reached
behind her. Topper’s brows furrowed in confusion before he realized what she was doing.

“S-Sarah! What are you-“

“Oh please, if you had any idea how uncomfortable it was to ride horseback in a corset, you
would do the same,” she retorted, struggling to loosen the laces of her dress. Finally, she let
out a heavy sigh and began to breathe more easily. “Now,” she chimed, her cheeks rosy from
the sun’s warmth, “to where shall we go, Mister Thornton?”

Her intrigue sent sparks down his spine as she stepped toward him with eager anticipation.
He looked down at her and smiled back, admiring the small features of her face accentuated
by the sunlight. Her inquisitive brow, her unique shade of dazzling blue eyes, her full lips. “I
know just the place, Miss Cameron,” he mocked in response.

He held out a gloved hand and she accepted promptly, allowing him to guide her to the stark
white steed that stood in front of them.

“A new one?” she inquired, referring to the horse he chose to bring for their afternoon ride.

“Not quite,” he hinted. She noticed how he smirked as he helped her up on its back and
wondered why his mood had been so equivocal this time around. Topper settled behind her
and grasped the reins. Before she knew it, the horse began a steady trot down a familiar trail
leading straight to the shore. Sarah always enjoyed the outdoors, being within nature and
feeling the fresh salty air against her face. A brisk seaside breeze crept up her legs as it began
to dance through the fabric of her dress. Sarah recognized this feeling, a feeling she could
only obtain when she was with Topper, though she was reluctant to admit whether it was due
to his presence or the horses that frequently accompanied him. Regardless of its source, the
freedom she felt when riding was like no other. It was a blissful experience, an undeniable
sense of contentment and peace. When she closed her eyes, she imagined she was flying high
above the clouds and over the sea like how she used to as a child. She imagined gliding past
the trees and through rock formations that lay just over the coast. She pictured the impossible
view of the ocean, being able to see all sea life as they swam beneath her in crystal waters.
She would even call it, in this moment, heaven. It hadn’t registered that the stallion picked up
its pace when she opened her eyes and realized she now had the reins in her hands. Topper
must’ve slipped them into hers during her daydream; by some miracle, she had managed to
guide the steed effortlessly along the shore. A twinge of panic seeped into her lower stomach
realizing Topper’s ignorance of her nearly sightless steering of his horse. It did not seem,
however, that he had noticed. She let out a sigh of relief. Sarah felt a pair of larger hands
envelop hers as they reached for the reins.

“Look at you! I must say you have a far better sense of balance than I did when I first steered
a horse” Topper beamed.

Sarah nervously grinned as she chuckled back. “I guess the time we’ve spent riding adjusted
my body quite well,” she said. Steadily, they inched closer to the edge of the coastline where
the sand began to merge with sharp rocks and jagged cliff sides. The tide had been tame that
time of day, allowing the two to relish in the marvelous sight before them. Sarah admired the
sunlight as it danced across the water resembling the twinkling of stars gently swaying back
and forth. Topper dismounted the horse before holding a hand out to help Sarah down. She
hit the sand with a light thud and carefully adjusted the hem of her dress so she wouldn’t trip
while walking.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Topper whispered, gently guiding her by the hand as
they walked.

Sarah wasn’t sure where he was leading her, only that the waves gently crept up the shore,
now and then catching her shoes underwater. She halted.

“One moment,” Sarah insisted as she began to lift her heels out of the confines of her tightly
laced shoes. Once free, she dug her toes into the damp sand, letting out a quiet sigh before
grasping his hand once more. Topper had been silently observing her.

“What is it? Never seen a woman’s bare feet before?” she teased. Topper grew red with
embarrassment, “No! I mean yes” he stuttered. “I just wasn’t expecting you to do that."

“Well, it wouldn’t seem as strange if you joined me” Sarah suggested. Topper tittered at her
tender invitation and gave in. He reached down, clumsily unlacing his riding boots and tying
them to the saddle. He followed suit in burying his feet into the sand, Sarah giggling when he
tensed against the frigid water.

“Now, we may go,” she beamed, a smile caressing her flushed face. She never ceased to
surprise him with her otherwise peculiar mannerisms, but it provided a sense of adventure
and excitement he could never experience with any other woman. It made him feel alive.
They kept on the path downshore as Sarah’s curiosity grew.

“Topper?” she questioned. His hand was still wrapped around hers when he turned to meet
her face.

“Close your eyes,” he gently requested. Her brows furrowed but followed through. Sarah felt
him pull her further and further down the shore; occasionally she would jump at the sudden
splash of water that the tide brought in, sending chills down her spine. Her thoughts started to
exaggerate a thousand different scenarios of what she could expect. Not often did she grow
sick at the prospect of surprises; she enjoyed the thrill of the unknown. But something told
her that whatever it was Topper had planned was much more than a “surprise.”

“Alright, you can open your eyes.”

Sarah’s compulsive overthinking halted to the sound of his soft and inviting voice. Much to
her surprise indeed, the sight presented before them was like a scene out of the many
romance novels she had read before. A small group of trees arranged indiscriminately by
nature, accompanied by a canopy of willows and twisting vines adorned the grove-like space.
Small coastal flora and greenery sprouted out from underneath the damp sand and in between
coupled rocks, proving once again the resilience of nature herself. Ropes of seaweed littered
the ground purposely placed to emulate a pathway, reminiscent of a horse track or even an
aisle.
“Topper…what is this?” she asked hesitantly. However, how his eyes softened as they met
hers made her stomach drop. She knew what this was. She dreaded this very moment since
the day her father introduced the boy to her. Slowly, he guided her down the makeshift path,
and terror filled her chest, unbeknownst to him. Finally, they reached the center of the grove,
just where the trees began to separate and allow the sunlight to peak through. The very sight
of it left her in awe, but it wasn't enough to dismiss what was occurring right in front of her.
Seeing him knelt on one knee, bathed in the sun's golden rays like some Greek god as he
reached for her hand was a sight she was less than prepared for. Shockingly, it surprised her
more that he did not propose sooner.

“Sarah, my light, my life, my love…”

Oh, here it comes, she thought. Sarah stood stiffened by the intense display of yearning
before her and thought of how horrible of a woman she ought to be. Horrible in the sense that
she’d rather make a run for it than face the clearly infatuated man who has devoted the past
three years of his life to showering her with nothing but love and support. If anything, she did
not deserve him at all. But that was no reason for her sudden trepidation. The idea of
marrying Topper went against every moral code she had curated for herself since the age of 8.
It was true that she held a deep sense of admiration and, perhaps, even love for the young
man, but her freedom was much more desirable, so much more. If only she could articulate
that to her father without disappointing him further.
She had almost forgotten where she was before the sound of his voice caught her attention
once more.

“Sarah?” He looked worried like he was eagerly expecting her to speak. God, had she
completely disassociated during his proposal? Just as she thought, horrible woman she was.

"Sarah, are you ill?" he wondered. "Perhaps it is the seaweed? I knew its stench might be too
much for a woman's senses."

“I apologize, Topper. I must’ve come down with something,” she rubbed at her temples to
mimic the rise of a headache. “I’m afraid I did not catch that.”

“I had asked for your hand in marriage… if you so wish as to accept. It would make me the
luckiest man in the world.”

She had managed to process his request more plainly in her mind. Dear God, she had gotten
herself into quite a predicament. Not only was the young man she had fawning over her for
years finally proposing to spend the rest of their lives together, but it was at that moment she
realized she did not want to. Was it fear that kept her? There wasn’t a thing she had to fear.
He was everything her father had wanted for her. An upper-class man who came from a
notable family, rich and fruitful in his prospects, dedicated to devoting all of his time to
pleasing the governor’s daughter. It was a match made in heaven if heaven was a council full
of viciously arrogant and decrepit aristocrats. Sure, there were a few things she did not
particularly like about the young man. Like his tendency to assume women are these delicate
creatures who cannot function without a corset or shoes. Or inept to the degree that they can't
handle the smell of blessed seaweed.
Sarah tried her best to crack a perfect smile full of gratitude and tenderness. She had hoped it
 would mask her utter distress at the situation and relieve him with an answer most
satisfactory.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

The contents of her stomach churned and threatened to spill all over the man who knelt
before her, but she managed to keep her composure. Topper, on the other hand, gleamed with
delight as he stood up to embrace her. Sarah could barely reciprocate the passion of his kiss
that came with it.

They parted and he grasped her hands tightly. "One last thing." He parted ways and exited the
grove before returning, this time with the reins of that beautiful white stallion in his hands. "I
wanted to wait until this moment to tell you that he's yours. Consider him my unofficial
engagement gift," he proclaimed.

Sarah could not believe it. Despite all of the emotion she had just put herself through, perhaps
something good did come out of this catastrophic venture. He handed the reins to her once
more, and she gazed up at the steed, its dusty gray eyes like two full moons staring back at
her. She felt an instant wave of calm wash over her, and Sarah gently placed a hand on its
nose to stroke it.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Topper queried. Sarah hadn't really given it much
thought, granted she was just introduced to the magnificent creature earlier that day.
However, his presence accompanied by her creativeness in nature, prompted her to choose a
name quite fitting.

"Valor," she spoke, "it means to possess 'great courage in the face of danger.' I feel as if he'd
do well to display such character." Unlike her.

"A brilliant name, my dear." She cringed at the endearing name he'd already given her. “We
have to break the good news to your father, Sarah. We must do it tonight! At the Midsummer
Ball.”

Her mouth went dry. “M-my father?” she faltered.

“Well, yes! Of course, your father would be overjoyed to hear of our engagement.” He placed
a hand to her cheek and smiled warmly. “This will be good for us, I promise,” he whispered.
If this was his attempt at easing her, it was all in vain, because in her mind she had already
made her decision.

Topper grasped her arms and professed once more, “I love you.” If she wanted to save herself
now from the reluctance with which she approached this whole situation, all she’d need to do
was dive right into the sea behind them. But as spirited and audacious as she seemed, she was
still just a coward.

“I love you too,” she lied. And it would be the worst lie she had ever told him.

Chapter End Notes

Hi readers! Thank you so much for taking the time to read the first chapter of my new
work! I was instantly hooked on OBX when it first came out and binge-watched the first
season multiple times during Covid. With the show having three seasons with lots more
to work with, I've decided to bring a vision of mine to life and create my own story
centered around these characters in an 18th-century pirate-eqse workpiece. I was heavily
inspired by the Pirates of the Caribbean movies (ofc) so you will see lots of that
influenced in my writing in future chapters.
*THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER OR RETELLING OF POTC*
I am still working on a good title but will have more chapters posted before the end of
the year. If the title changes and you have trouble finding this work, feel free to
bookmark it!

I appreciate any and all comments and criticisms! I am a college student at the moment
(not an English/writing major), and I don't really have much experience with storytelling
or writing complex plots minus the writing I did in high school English classes, so
PLEASE correct me if I make a literary mistake and I will correct it pronto.

OKAY! That's it LOL see you guys in chapter 2!

(Also, I highly recommend listening to POTC ambiance or just the movie soundtracks
while reading this. They are all I listen to when writing and it inspires me so much!).
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Hey guys! So I know I said I would try and get some more chapters out before the new
year, but honestly the holidays have been so busy for me. But anyways, thanks to
anyone who stuck around and waited for me to post! I am almost done editing chapter 3
so I should also be posting it shortly. Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Two maids assisted in preparing her for the night's festivities. Sarah could hardly breathe, and
it wasn't solely due to the tight corset around her waist.

"My lady, you shine like the pearls of Venus," one of the maids complimented.

"Thank you, Margaret." Sarah stared at herself in the full-length mirror before them. She
could finally see the gown in all of its unabashed glory. From its lush bodice adorned with
pale pink roses and silver ribbon to its puffed sleeves hemmed with ivory lace, all fashioned
onto fabric the shade of wild carnations. Silvery thread was sewn into the hemline of the
skirt, as well as the trimming, giving it an ethereal iridescent glow. For a moment, Sarah felt
like she truly was the most beautiful woman in Kildare. Until those feelings of unbearable
guilt came flooding back.

"I am afraid I am far from any goddess. Let alone the goddess of love."

"Nonsense," attested Margaret, playfully swatting her with a handkerchief.

She stepped away briefly while the other maid began to dress Sarah's hair. She returned with
a small wooden box. Engraved on its lid was the silhouette of a bird—an albatross.

"My lady, forgive me if this seems unfitting," she opened the box to reveal a gorgeous
diamond necklace, "but I felt it to be a wise choice for the occasion." Her breath caught.
Sarah recognized the piece immediately.

"My mother," she breathed. She hesitantly reached out to withdraw the delicate jewelry.
“This was my mother's necklace." She held the piece closer to herself, almost as if afraid to
let go. Each diamond twinkled in the light as she ran her thumbs over it. All together they
shone like a thousand stars in the night sky. Instantly, she was reminded of how graceful her
mother looked when she wore it.

"Where on earth did you find this, Margaret?" she asked.

"Amongst the many things your mother left before she-."

Margaret hesitated. She knew she had overstepped and quickly retreated, averting her gaze in
fear she had offended the young mistress. But Sarah knew she meant no harm. Very rarely
was she keen to punish any transgressions made by them, unlike Rose.

"This is lovely, Margaret. Thank you."

She bowed her head, then asked, "May I?"

Sarah nodded, and the maid proceeded to take the necklace back and place it around her
neck. She gasped at the sudden coldness against her skin, but the image before her was even
more breathtaking. Looking at the mirror again, Sarah could see every minute detail, every
jewel like silver teardrops. Like the teardrops she shed every night over the loss of her
mother. Those same tears threatened to spill even now, but she forbade them. She was so
much stronger than they were. She had to be.

It was near time they made their way downstairs. The two maids began to tidy up, placing
any finishing touches to Sarah's face and hair. Margaret gently styled a few strands to frame
her face and tucked a simple crown beaded with pearls into her blonde locks. After a bit of
rouge and red to stain her lips, they quickly packed their things and hurried along. Sarah was
still focused on her mother's necklace but dismissed the thought for now. She stood up from
her vanity and gave one last look at herself. That is when her eye caught the glint of another
trinket. The golden key that sat on her nightstand glowed against the light like it was calling
to her. She was sure her family was waiting so she quickly grabbed the pendant and tucked it
into her chest.

In the foyer stood the entire Cameron clan. There, waiting impatiently, was Rose, garbed in a
golden-colored gown with a peachy corset and skirt. She wore a crown made of faux golden
roses and spikes. How fitting, Sarah thought. Then there was her younger sister, Louisa,
dressed in a pearly white gown with baby blue bows tied around her waist and sleeves and
one in her hair to match. She was gripping her leather-bound diary, which she always kept
close. Next to her was their older brother Rafe, who leaned quietly in the corner with the
most bored expression. Lastly, there was the man himself, the governor of Kildare, and her
father, Ward Cameron. He looked regal in his attire, complete with extravagant shades of red
and purple, all tied together with gold embroidery. She thought he looked like a king. As she
descended the stairs, his face lit up at the sight of her.

"My dear Sarah," her father approached to embrace her. Sarah probably loved her father more
than anything. Ever since she was small, it was always him at the center of her world, and she
at his. Her fondest memories involved him and her mother, and the love they had for her and
each other. Those were the times when they were all at their happiest. These days, all she sees
is a broken man trying to heal the wounds that grief left him. Rose tried her best to be his
comfort, perhaps even give him a sense of hope. Hope that he could love again, even though
she could never truly replace her.

"Look at my girls, my beautiful girls," he gleamed, a hand on each of his daughter's

shoulders. Sarah smiled widely, fully ignoring the tiredness in his eyes.
"Yes, my dear. They look stunning!" Rose chimed in. “Now we best be on our way-”. Like
clockwork, Bartholomew entered the foyer, earning their attention.

"The carriages are ready, my lord," he spoke.

"Brilliant! Well, off we go. Come now!" Rose ushered all of them out the door, eager to
depart. Sarah knew it was her greatest peeve to arrive late to such functions, especially when
they were the hosts. Outside, two carriages were waiting for them—one for the children and
the other for the governor and his wife. Ward and Rose entered their carriage and Sarah
caught Louisa's sleeve before stepping in.

"He's not sleeping again, is he?" she asked her sister in a hushed tone.

"The maids have been gossiping," Louisa whispered. "Saying that he leaves his room in the
dead of night and just... wanders the gardens."

The gardens were their mother's favorite place in the whole estate. The Cameron estate
possessed several acres of land, far more than most wealthy families in the Figure-of-Eight.
They often held their largest occasions in their gardens, about 1,000 acres from the governor's
home, which granted the use of transportation such as horseback or coaches. As a token of
his love for his first wife, the governor had landscapers construct an array of gardens, each
consisting of a new, exotic variety of flora. He had them shipped from all over the world,
from any destination his wife desired. Sarah could recall how fantastical it all looked.
Strolling with her mother in hand, the two would spend hours observing each specimen.
Anytime she would find a flower she adored, there would be another far more exquisite to
take its place. Yet, nothing compared to her mother's choice of Begonias. She used to talk
about how resilient they were, that as long as they were properly cared for, Begonias could
last all year round. Her mother thought that's what made them so unique. After her death and
the governor's marriage to his new wife, the gardens underwent a massive change, with the
Lady Cameron deciding to fill them with nothing but roses. It felt like every trace of their
mother was stripped away.

All three siblings entered the second carriage and took their seats before Bartholomew closed
the door. She heard the coachman holler a command and Sarah felt a sudden dread begin to
fill the air. Not often were the three of them confined to such small spaces. Sarah knew
instances like these could only end one of two ways. Louisa walks away in tears, leaving
Sarah to console her sister and scold her brother, or she and him get into one of their
screaming debates. Either way, his head always ends up on a pike.

Not a moment passed before Rafe withdrew his silver flask.

"Drowning out the noise already?" uttered Sarah.

Rafe stared at her from hooded lids. "It's none of your concern, princess ." He took a swig.
Louisa unraveled the leather strap of her diary and began to write. Rafe rolled his eyes as he
leaned back.

"You never say anything about little Miss Bradstreet," he sneered, gesturing towards the
young girl.
"It shocks me that you even know Bradstreet," Louisa quipped. Rafe lurched forward and
snatched the diary from her hands. She gasped as she tried to retrieve it.

"Stop it!" she shrieked. Helplessly, she tried to reach for her diary, but he was already
flipping through the pages and gawking at its contents.

"Let us see what sort of perversion you have festering in that little head of yours."

"Rafe, stop that. Give it back," demanded Sarah.

"Please, Sarah, haven't you ever had the slightest bit of curiosity." He waved the book in the
air. "Always scribbling away like she's some tortured writer."

"I don't see how that gives any of us the right to pry," she spat. "Besides, she's just a child.
Let her be."

"I beg to differ." He chuckled as he began to read some words aloud.

"Thomas was utterly infatuated with Susan since the day he laid eyes on her. He dreamed of
her golden locks and sapphire eyes, longing for just one... tantalizing... kiss." Rafe mockingly
acted out the descriptions on the page, further humiliating his younger sister.

"Rafe, that's enough!" screamed Louisa.

"Oh, come now Wheezie, don't you want me to finish it?" he ruthlessly teased. Rafe
continued. "She was like the goddess of love, a temptress, alluring and seductive. Why, he
loved her so much, he could marry her!"

Louisa was on the brink of tears and her face was red with frustration. Rafe hardly paid any
mind. He just continued to hold the diary above them and narrate the words on the page. It
got to a point where Sarah was starting to feel uncomfortable about the whole situation.

"Does this not exhaust you?" Sarah snapped at him. Rafe paused his reading for a moment to
entertain her anger.

"You know, my dear sister, if I hadn't known any better, I would say this story sounds
familiar. Don't you agree?"

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, which sent Louisa crashing into Rafe, knocking the
diary from his hand. She finally got a hold of her precious possession and shoved a harsh
palm into her brother's face. The two hardly noticed the distress of their sister before she
swiftly exited the compartment without a word.

The governor and his wife stood waiting at the front of the gardens. Rose planned to have
them enter as a family, but when she saw her stepdaughter quickly retreating, she frowned.

"Where on earth is she going?" she whispered to her husband.

"Who, my dear?"
"Sarah," she emphasized.

"Oh, perhaps she is meeting with Mister Thornton," he suggested.

"I highly doubt it," Rose muttered.

The governor appeared languid. Rose was afraid that his fatigue had finally caught up to him.
She was no stranger to his sleepless nights and incoherent muttering. Many nights, he would
leave their quarters and roam the halls, endlessly searching for something. Or someone.
Sometimes, he would make it as far as the gardens, an arduous trek by foot, even more so
barefoot. All she wanted was for him to find some peace, to move on with his life. Was she
so selfish as to want to wake up in a bed that wasn't empty?

Rose sighed heavily. "We'll just have to enter without her. The people are waiting."

Her husband nodded as they locked arms and began down the path leading to a giant gazebo.
Rafe and Louisa followed closely behind, though she kept her distance from him.

Sarah wanted no part in any festivities tonight. She headed straight for the orangery, careful
not to draw any attention to herself. If she could have just one moment to herself, maybe she
could face the guests that awaited her arrival. She couldn't, however, ignore that piece of
Louisa's writing. Something told her that it wasn't simply a story she had made up on her
own. She felt exposed, degraded even, like she was being taunted in some sick satirical
comedy. Perhaps an orange would lift her mood.

Sarah came to two massive glass doors. She tugged on each one, but they would not budge.

"Shit," she thought. She searched the front of the orangery for any other mode of entry,
though she found none. That is when she noticed some movement from around the
enclosure.

"Hello?" she called out. Perhaps it was one of the staffers who was working the event tonight.
They could unlock the orangery for her. But, there was no response. Maybe they couldn't hear
her. She drew closer.

"Excuse me, sir? Would it be possible to have this opened," she pointed in its direction, "if
just for a little while?"

She heard some rustling, then it went silent. As she rounded the corner, she could see the
faint outline of a figure.

"You wouldn't be in any trouble. You see, my father is the governor. He owns these gardens.
I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I took a fruit or two..."

The figure came more into focus, and she could see everything, from the disheveled clothes
he wore to his calfskin boots and leather belt. He slowly rose until his face was clear to her.
He was young, about her age, with light hair and blue eyes. His hands were callused and
marked with tattoos. She knew then that he was no staffer. Their eyes met and she froze. He
 made no move towards her, only a slight flick of his wrist to reveal the pistol hidden beneath
his shirt.

Chapter End Notes

Also, sorry if this chapter seemed short but I wanna make it a setup for the excitement
that comes next chapter!

Thanks again and I'll see yall in chapter 3! :)

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