10A/N: Hi all!
I hope everyone is doing well. This story was going to be a one-shot for my sister, fellow author HC247. It was supposed to be a birthday gift… (I don't know if she'd want me to point out the month of her birth but trust me I'm way waay off!) So, better late than never? I should start planning for our annual Christmas story exchange like now… LOL!
If you haven't, go check out what she has written. It is nothing short of brilliant work!
I need to give a shout-out to babyb26 (another Awesome author!) because she helped me with details and encouraging me when I felt like giving up.
So the one-shot is now going to have a second chapter because the writing muses ran away from me and well… You'll see why.
HC247, I hope you enjoy and never stop being you!
Please all review on your way out I so do appreciate it and the reviews are what my writing muses live on! Thank you ever so very much!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you will recognize in this story. As for the OC of Lady Emily you can have her and just do whatever with said character.
Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.
-…-…-
He never thought he would be here.
Here, on a beautifully decorated balcony in London with the wind softly blowing and a ship of his own down in the harbor. John Smith never would have pictured her dressed so layered and confined.
Never would have imagined her acting so conformed to any society.
Especially the upper echelons of English society.
Yet here she was, dressed in a gown that he could tell from her slight movements she felt uncomfortable in wearing. As soon as she had made her speech to the king, and all had returned from stopping the armada Pocahontas had excused herself from the crowd. At the time, smith thought her going to get fresh air on the very balcony they stood. However, now she was corseted with her dark tresses piled on top of her head and her beautiful tan face appeared sickly under the powder.
Looking at her made his heart ache.
"We walked the same path once," she began a fond lilt to her voice, "I have found where I belong."
"I hope you will also find happiness."
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. For what else could he say? Should he ask her to reconsider? Look at all the options that were spread before her? Should he request to see her in a few days after such pondering?
As soon as the thoughts entered his mind he forced them away. The musings were quite unbecoming of a gentleman to entertain.
The captain had never considered himself to be a true gentleman. He could act the part extraordinarily well, yet he knew it was a facade.
How strange it seemed that King James had referred to him as such not long ago. The praise had been his desire when leaving for Jamestown. To be known for something other than his scandalous reputation. Smith knew he would be looked down on but he would have fame and fortune. Was that not what every man wanted?
It was merely Ratcliffe's status and connections in London that enabled him to first speak to his majesty. In no time at all, Smith had been accused of treason and a price had been placed on his head.
He'd been forced to run, lose contact with his friends and those he thought of as family and cease all attempts to go to the New World. All attempts to go to her.
'Why your hesitation?'
'Do not stand in the way of her happiness.'
A battle raged within him. Here he was in good standing after such a difficult time, and yet he despised this woman's transformation in to a proper English lady. Hated the changes she had to endure just to be a part of the very society he wanted to belong.
'You cannot have it both ways.'
The captain briskly shook his head, willing his thoughts to leave him well enough alone.
Taking her hand in his, John Smith raised it to his lips for a final kiss.
Though, it was not truly a final kiss. That happened on a beach whilst he'd lane on a stretcher in order to go back to England. Afterwards, he held her hand until he had been forced to let go due to his men taking him on board the ship. His fingers had curled into a fist then, bringing it up to his face where he could smell her lingering scent.
Now, the two of them stood together for a moment longer than was necessary or appropriate.
The captain realizing it whilst gazing in her eyes. He knew she did as well. He could see them widen in an indiscernible look prior to her calm expression once again.
It made him second guess everything. The change in not merely her countenance but her spirit. The change in him. Smith could not hold back the flash of anger in his blue eyes. If she had seen it, she made no remark.
What had they done to her? What lies had they told, dances they had taught along with the various etiquette rules they had instructed her to perform? Smith prayed it was all for the safety of her people. Every single thing.
It begged the question; did her transformation go deeper than what was outwardly displayed?
Did his?
He was terrified to know. Scared to examine the truth for very long.
He was thrust back into the present by the soft breeze swishing the fabric of her gown. Brought back to a moment full of so much yearning. So many words left unsaid. It hung between them, the air becoming heavy. Whilst seemingly of their own accord, their hands held fast to one another. For that period of time, palms lay flat and fingers entwined.
Until, "May the Great Spirit always be with you."
Her words spoken, Pocahontas turned to go back through the doors.
Withdrawing her hand from his thus snatching the moment away.
As she turned to leave, Smith found himself grasping her wrist. He wondered in doing so if the years apart altered the both of them so drastically?
In that beat of time, John realized that he had forgotten. All the years running, fighting to survive and to clear his name he had forgotten the love that had ultimately changed his outlook. It was not Pocahontas who left his thoughts, but the warmth and feeling of belonging when he'd been with her that had left his soul. His heart clenched as if squeezed by an invisible hand and he tightened his grip.
The native pulled slightly whilst turning to face him once again, "I have to go."
Years before, she had uttered those exact words in a meadow. In a meadow where she had said them more to herself than him. A field where they had been surrounded by yellow sunflowers as far as the eye could see. A meadow where he had almost kissed her.
In a place where he had to let her leave.
"I have to go," Pocahontas repeated, "There is…-"
"No," his tone was soft at first as she tried to take her hand from his grasp, "No, I am not letting you leave."
"Excuse me?"
He should let her go. He was finally a gentleman with praise, accolades and the world at his feet. After an arduous struggle, he was at last rising up through the classes.
And yet…
His reasoning screamed that she was a lady who wanted to leave, he had no right to keep her and yet…
And yet…
His heart could not be so easily swayed.
"You heard me."
"What?"
"I just, I need to speak with you. Somewhere else…"
"I, John Smith I cannot just."
"The woman in the cornfield did," he pleaded, "She, she…"
He could not help smiling in remembrance, "She put her hand over her friend's mouth, and said something to her in Algonquian. She took my hand and we ran off."
"John…-"
"Where is she? Where is that woman?"
"Things change," Pocahontas gently said, "People change. I will always care for you however.-"
He interrupted her, "Pocahontas.-"
She cut him off, "In the end, we were not meant to be together."
'Think of what you are giving up. You worked so hard for this.'
'You have always fought for everything in your life.'
Smith glanced over his shoulder, only to see his new ship gleaming in the sunlight.
He knew a decision had to be made. Since Pocahontas refused his offer of venturing to new lands, the captain had to decide if he could truly walk away from her of his own volition. He knowing full well that he would never lay eyes on her again.
"I must excuse myself now," the native woman began as she took her hand out of his, "I have been invited to another ball this evening."
In the haze that surrounded him he vaguely recalled his own invitation to the party. Straightening his shoulders, a sudden idea came to his mind.
"You say that people change," John slowly started as Pocahontas nodded, "Could it be that they have just forgotten what they had? Circumstances can do that, make one lose sight of who they are and what is important to them. Events can make a man unknowingly disregard… From all the running and everything taking place I did try to return to Jamestown. I tried to come back. I promise…"
"Perhaps however John smith.-"
The captain smiled, "So, you say it is possible."
"Yes, and I am glad you attempted to come back. It means a lot. However.-"
"I will see you later then," he said.
Giving her no possibility to reply, Smith turned and left her standing on the balcony.
Acutely aware he had one chance.
-..-..-
Nervous.
She honestly felt ill and she knew it was not just the thought of going to the ball that made her so anxious.
Rather it was who would be there.
When they had spoken that afternoon, he seemed on the verge of letting her go in favor of exploring new lands. The way he had reacted to her refusal to join him left her stunned.
'How could he just leave like that?'
'You were nothing to him.'
The woman had silently fought to quell the tumult in her mind. Pocahontas knowing that if he would have walked away she would not have pursued.
Yet as she had turned to go, Smith had grasped her wrist and the seeds of hurt and anger were suddenly replaced with one tiny seed of hope.
It was magnified as his persistence made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. Made her question if John Rolfe was the correct path. Since Rolfe had accepted his new position with the king, Pocahontas realized that this would become her life. After leaving the palace, she'd sat in the carriage whilst he talked about his new title and the opportunity it presented. She was happy for him and told Rolfe as much.
While Smith's words echoed in her mind.
'Where is she? Where is that woman?'
If she chose to she could have a life where she would be surrounded by every luxury. A swirl of endless parties and polite talk. Her people would be safe and she had accomplished what she had set out to do. Rolfe had told her as much.
'Why your hesitation?'
Pocahontas thought as she put on a necklace in the mirror.
'Do not stand in the way of his happiness.'
'He will leave you again.'
Shaking her head in exasperation, the native woman readied herself for the lavish gala. A deep violet gown adorned her frame, her mother's necklace tucked in her décolletage as she elegantly made her way down John Rolfe's grand staircase. As her feet touched the last step, Pocahontas could not help but notice the appraising look he gave on her form.
"What do you think? The dressmaker this afternoon said it was…-"
"You look beautiful," Rolfe breathed as his eyes traveled from her powdered face towards the fine shoes on her feet.
"You look splendid," the gentleman began as he took her arm, "I love your hair."
The comment caused Pocahontas to use her other hand to touch the stiff curls, pins and ribbon that decorated her long ebony tresses. They were situated high on her head, the elaborate design having taken hours to perfect.
It was the one thing she absolutely loathed.
A gust of wind swept over the couple as they walked towards the carriage, her hair not moving with the breeze like she had grown accustomed.
"I have something very important to speak to you about," Rolfe continued as he patted her gloved hand, "Perhaps at some time during the ball you will walk with me in the gardens."
It was a statement, not a question.
As the movement of the carriage picked up speed a query replayed itself over and over again in her thoughts.
'Is this what you want for the rest of your life?'
-..-..-..—
"I finally decided to go with the frills instead of the plain fabric."
John Smith nodded at the redhead that sat across from him at the lavish table. Blue eyes swept the room once more, yet there was no sign of Pocahontas.
"Plus, you can easily fluff frilly fabrics whereas silk just stays wherever you put it. It just does not have any life to it at all."
"Is that so?"
Smith inquired as the lady enthusiastically nodded.
The captain sipped his wine, observing the woman's green eyes admiring him. John glanced around the ballroom, noting the various people being on their best behavior.
Acting like how they should instead of how they normally did in everyday life.
'This is what you have wanted. To be known and respected.'
A voice screamed in his mind as the doors at the end of the room opened.
"I do realize it is forward of me," the lady he'd been conversing with now stood beside him, "However, would you care to dance?"
Startled, John placed down his glass and politely cleared his throat. Glancing up, the captain breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted his salvation.
"If you will excuse me miss," John began as he had forgotten her name, "I would be delighted, yet there is a gentleman who just arrived that I must have a word."
A smile graced her lips, "Of course, I just thank you once again for escorting me to this ball and…-"
Yet he was already gone, weaving his way through the crowd to where Pocahontas and John Rolfe stood. He waited in line with the others that'd gathered to greet the couple, unaware of the scowl on his previous companion's face.
"Ah, John Smith," Rolfe greeted cheerfully as he shook his hand, "A beautiful evening for such a lovely ball. Would you not agree?"
John's eyes swept over Pocahontas's figure, "Yes, indeed it is very lovely."
"I have heard there will be dancing along with singing," Rolfe continued, "Though I am uncertain as to the validity of.-"
The gentleman was interrupted by the band striking up a lively tune. Couples cheered as Smith bowed.
"Pocahontas, may I have this dance?"
"Go on," Rolfe encouraged surprising Smith into silence, "There is someone I see I need to speak to concerning a holiday… No matter, you go on."
Grinning, John Smith took Pocahontas's gloved hand in his own.
They walked onto the dance floor, the captain immediately holding her to his chest.
"I am not sure if I know the steps," Pocahontas began as she nearly stumbled over her long skirts.
"I am sure I do not know them," John chuckled, "I just watch and do the basic movements."
The native princess nodded as the music got faster. Twirling her around, he could feel her body pressed against him. People glanced at them, yet Smith only had his sight fixed on the woman who spun in his arms. How different she looked, whilst she acted like everyone else. It gave him pause as he gazed at her heavily made up face. He was brought back to reality by someone jostling the two of them as he began to dance.
"I am serious," she breathed, "I do not know… I do not wish to mess…-"
"Just dance," John laughed as they spun through the crowd. People clapped and cheered, the two of them being swept up in the lively ambiance.
"I love your hair," a young girl called to Pocahontas as she smiled and whirled away with her escort.
"I don't," Smith mumbled.
"Wh-what d-did you say?"
Pocahontas breathlessly inquired as they swerved to avoid crashing into a lone dancer.
"Nothing," Smith answered as the couples around them spun away from one another only to join hands once again.
"Wait," Pocahontas began, "I did not see.-"
"No worries," John laughed, "The step has already been done. We can catch it next time it comes around."
People clapped, spun and cheered as Pocahontas stumbled, moving under Smith's arm as he caught her. Pocahontas smiled, ignoring the tightness in her chest as they moved. As the tempo increased, her once lively steps became disorganized. The couple twirled the beat rapid and the air feverish as the crowd danced. When she raised her foot in order to turn, her shoe caught on her skirt thus causing the princess to slip on the fine material.
"I got you," Smith said as he held her, she feeling to faint to answer. The native could sense the room tilt, sweat gathering and she realized as she tried to take a satisfying breath she could not. It was as if all the air had suddenly left the hall, merely to be replaced by a suffocating heat.
One look at her countenance and Smith was alert, pushing and trying to apologize to the crowd as he exited the dance floor. Securing his hold, Smith half carried half walked her out of the area towards the door.
"Here," Smith startled as he spotted the woman he had escorted from before, "There is a private chamber where women go when they are overcome. I will take you."
Without waiting for an answer, the woman swept them out of the ballroom and down a well decorated corridor. Stopping in front of a mirror to look at her reflection she waited for Pocahontas and Smith to catch up.
"I, I am so embarrassed," Pocahontas began, "I do n-n-not know what…-"
"Sometimes dancing can be too much," supplied the lady as the three of them finally halted in front of an inconspicuous door. Upon knocking and receiving no reply, the red head opened it to reveal a small private antechamber, the brightly colored curtains swaying gently in the breeze. A matching Chaise sat in one corner next to a table, a few goblets and a pitcher. A writing desk and a plush chair occupied the other corner.
"Thank you," Pocahontas said as she slowly moved towards the Chaise.
"You are welcome," the woman began as she ran a hand through her hair, "Why do you not rest and we will go back to the ball? I will let John Rolfe know you are relaxing."
"Well I should stay…"
"She will be fine here," the lady continued whilst ushering her and John Smith from the room, "We will tell John Rolfe she is resting and she will be just fine here. After all, this place is meant for relaxation. I am certain she does not mind."
The firm close of the door brooked no farther discussion as Pocahontas sank back onto the Chaise. Quickly realizing that lying supine was not helping her breathe, the princess straightened trying to lean forward towards the window. A small garden greeted her sight, along with a fountain. Though the sound was nothing like her beloved river from home, Pocahontas took what comfort it offered. Her frayed nerves were soon soothed by the water flowing over the stones in the fountain.
The fact this space was set aside for women made her feel better as to her privacy. Inhaling, the sweet scent of a promised rain comforted her even more. Folding her arms on the window sill, Pocahontas allowed the peaceful breeze to envelop her as best it could give the surroundings. Whilst the wind caressed her face, Pocahontas began to gather her thoughts.
Though grateful to the stopping of Ratcliffe's army, the native knew that more work needed to be done concerning the various ships and colonists. An agreement would have to be reached to insure the survival of all.
Experience taught her that an alliance between the English and her people would be achieved through marriage. It was that prospect that concerned her. If she could not choose, then who would on her behalf? Would she even be given a choice in the matter? Sighing, Pocahontas knew in her heart the one who occupied her thoughts.
The man who at first she turned away for she thought he no longer loved her. The one who wanted to explore far off places. As the wind blew, the last conversation they had floated across her mind.
A sudden opening and shutting of the door startled the princess as she gasped, turning to see who had entered the chamber.
Captain John Smith leant casually against the door, an eyebrow raised as he stared at her before heading towards the plush chair in the other corner.
"How is the party going?"
"Fine," John replied, "Lady Emily found John Rolfe and explained your absence."
"Good," Pocahontas said as silence fell.
"Are you alright?"
After a pause Pocahontas answered, "I feel better leaning out the window."
"Good," John replied.
More silence fell, merely to be punctuated by the tinkling of glasses and the sounds of the ball.
"So," Pocahontas began, "How do you know Lady Emily?"
"I know her father and she needed an escort," John said, "After I was given an invitation to the ball I naturally had no one to go with so…"
"I see," Pocahontas chuckled.
"Actually," John Smith continued as he relaxed in the chair, "I kept forgetting her name."
Pocahontas laughed, "How can you forget someone's name?"
"Do you know how many women here have names like Emily at this party?"
"I presume quite a lot," Pocahontas stated.
"Your presumption is correct," John said as a gust of wind blew.
Despite the cool breeze that wafted through the window, Pocahontas could feel the tension in the room. Unable to look at the man who sat so casually across from her, Pocahontas allowed her gaze to sweep around the interior. A painting of some sunflowers captured her stare and she marveled at how realistic they looked. It brought to mind the field they had rolled around in and the princess dropped her gaze.
Only to see his cerulean eyes studying her form.
"What is it?"
"It is you," Smith answered as he looked at her, "Are you feeling better?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is your breathing better?"
"It is improved," she replied before continuing, "What do you want?"
"What?"
"Why are you in here? Why did you leave the ball? Why did you risk everything for me and my guard in the tower? You were going to let me walk away and now you are sitting.-"
"I did not want you to leave the balcony," Smith narrowed his eyes, "I told you… I asked you if we could speak somewhere else. You were the one who was insistent on leaving."
"I had to get ready for this party," Pocahontas said as she gestured at her embroidered gown, "Do you know how long it took my hairdresser to style my hair?"
"You look lovely," was his sardonic reply.
"You are the one who wanted a ship and new lands," Pocahontas retorted her voice rising in indignation, "You asked me to go and whenever I declined your offer you were ready to just sail off.-"
"I was not," John Smith snapped as he stood, "You were the one who had to rush home like a good English lady and prepare for.-"
It was her turn to stand and glair at the man who had the audacity to be mocking her.
"Unless we are somehow speaking to one another from two different places," Pocahontas snapped, "You are at the same ball. So, how are you any different?"
John threw up his hands, "I hate your hair like that."
"What does that have to do with anything?!"
"Does it even move in the wind?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
In that moment, the woman chose to ignore the fact she'd had the same thought not long before the start of the evening.
Pocahontas folded her arms across her chest before replying, "Though this style is hard to get used to I have been told it is the latest fashion. They see me as an English lady and if that is what I must do for my people.-"
"Do you truly think they see you as a lady? You are a savage."
John Smith glared as Pocahontas's eyes widened in stunned disbelief, "You are considered to be a reformed savage yet one all the same. That is how they see you. That is how John Rolfe sees you."
"How dare you!"
"How dare I what? Speak the truth?"
Even through the silk of her gloves, Pocahontas could feel her nails digging into her palms. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to take a deep breath. She could hear the queen's melodious voice in her head.
'A lady always maintains decorum, no matter what she feels in her heart.'
"You can go now. I thank you for seeing after me however we have nothing more to say to one another."
A mirthless laugh escaped his lips as he moved towards the door.
"Do you hear yourself? Do you listen to how you speak?"
A pause before he continued so quietly the princess had to strain to hear, "Do you even listen to your heart anymore?"
"Captain Smith," Pocahontas bit out if only to steady her rattled nerves, "What part of you can go now did you not understand?"
"I suppose that would be a no then."
"How dare you stand there and lecture me about circumstances that you know nothing about! You see, John Rolfe told me of your background."
Pocahontas seethed as she stepped forward, "I am trying to remember how he phrased it... Oh yes, John Smith is surprisingly invited to this ball given the fact he is the son of a lowly farmer. That is how they see you."
Pocahontas noted the trembling in his hands and saw the once warm blue pools of his eyes freeze as solid as the Chickahominy River in winter. She stood her ground as he took a step forward, then another as he leant so close she became acutely aware of his breath on her cheek.
"I was wrong," John Smith began his voice deadly calm as the rain started to fall outside, "You are just like an English lady. You are beautiful, arrogant and a cold-hearted bitch. Are you happy now?"
Before she could reply Captain John Smith wrenched away, turned towards the door, threw it open and slammed it behind him with a deafening thud.
Leaving Pocahontas to gasp in hurt and anger.
Leaving her to wonder how everything had spiraled down so quickly.
Leaving her to compare how his blue eyes had danced with mirth while he'd held her amongst the spinning couples.
Only to depart with his scathing look and harsh words.
Whilst his heavy footsteps walked briskly down the corridor.
-…-…-End of Chapter 1…-…-