ARCHIVE.

        so, with a great amount of build up, this blog has finally been archived!!! you can now find me over here! <3

        i plan to move virtually all of the threads i owe in my drafts over to the new blog, but if there is one you’re particularly hoping will make the move, don’t hesitate to let me know!! thank you to everyone who has been a part of this blog over the past five years, and i hope to see you allllll on the other side!

        “ We fought a war once before, when I was first made King of the Brethren Court. A war to protect our way of life from those who would see it come to an end. A war against the injustices of Lord Cutler Beckett and men like him, men who saw fit to eliminate anyone who didn’t aid them in their endeavours. If such a war returns to our shores, I see no other choice but to fight. I refuse to allow history to repeat itself. ” [x]

LIZZIE‌.

      It was like stepping through a doorway into the past. Coated with a thick layer of dust as many of the surfaces were, it was safe to say that the room hadn’t been touched since he’d left it all those years ago for the sea, and a livelihood on board Teague’s ship. A book still lay half-opened on his bed, and nearby a bottle of ink had solidified completely, trapping the quill in it. His breaths came thick and fast as the memories reared their ugly heads with a vengeance: the hours he’d wiled away here, reading, writing, learning all he could, all while feeling devastatingly alone. The flinch every time he heard the creak of the staircase out on the landing, and learning who it was that approached merely by the tread of their shoes or boots.

        He hadn’t expected Elizabeth to reappear in his line of vision; if he hadn’t already known that his wife had long held a simmering curiosity for his past, for the events that had shaped her into the man he was today, then her words had confirmed it. As soon as he’d released her hand, Jack had expected her to make the most of this living, breathing echo of his history and explore it for herself. But instead, she had turned her attention back to him, to comfort and reassure and support, and realising she loved him enough to put him first was overwhelming in itself. He had to fight a sudden bleariness in his vision, speaking barely above a whisper. “ I’m fine. I promise. ” He wasn’t, clearly, and he wasn’t necessarily trying to hide the fact: only to somehow, wordlessly, reassure her that this was something he needed to do. That this was a demon from his past that needed to be exorcised, and a chapter that needed to be shared with her. Slowly, he raised his hand to cover her own where it cupped his face, holding her gaze. “ The less I think about it, the better. ” 

        As he gently lowered her hand from his face, giving it a grateful squeeze as he did, Jack was struck by a sudden thought. It cast a shadow across his face at once and, dragging his gaze away from Elizabeth, he let go of her hands and took several steps forward, looking intently at the wooden floorboards stretching across the length of the room. He counted one, two, three -- and knelt down to the fourth floorboard along from his bed, testing it with his fingers before lifting it up and reaching underneath. As soon as his hand made contact with the leather binding, he released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He retrieved it at once, blew off the layer of dust and sat back on his heels, staring at it. The silence stretched on for a minute or two before he carefully peeled open the front cover, recognising at once the handwriting inside. His mother’s. “ I forgot I hid this in here. ”