12 years later, England ~

"Tia Alma, Tia Alma!" Angelina screams. Alma grips her skin so deep she felt like her flesh was going to come out. Her aunt's nails dig into her, her eyes turning red, tears streaming from them, mumbling those words—the ruby, Angelina...the ruby...

"Thief! A filthy thief! Seize her!"

Angelina awakened from her thoughts when one of the governor's men had found her. She had been stealing from the governor's mansion; pieces of gold, jewelry, and silver. She rushes to the main lobby of the estate, where she knows no men are guarding.

With a blade in hand and a bag of treasure in the other, Angelina hides behind an enormous marble cabinet. She slides her arm onto her forehead, drying her face filled with sweat.

Tears had started streaming down her cheeks, but as always, Angelina had kept her painful sobs silent.

All her life, she had been battling the world's obstacles silently; but now it seemed like everything was conspiring against her.

A droplet of water touches the dagger Angelina was gripping, not knowing whether it was her sweat or a tear. She bowed her head to glance at it. Angelina belays when she sees her reflection on the blade.

On the dagger's handle carved her name—Angel.

Or more likely, it was what Oliver had always addressed her.

She continues to stare at the blade, and her face mirrored on it; within a few moments, she places the weapon down beside her.

She fights again, her tears that somehow cannot be delayed, for the pain seems to twist the knife inside her.

The poor lass sat behind the cabinet for quite a time until she decided to escape through the window that was in front. She dashes towards the docks, but a rugged grip stops her from doing so. She was pulled back, surprisingly in a swift yet gentle manner, and she frowns at the sight of who did it.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Oliver looks at her with concerned eyes, "Angelina. It should be me who is asking such a question. Where were you from, and what were you just doing?"

She cringed at the sound; he called her Angelina. Oliver does that when things are about to get serious.

She lets out a sarcastic laugh as she faces him, "I have no time for this. My crew is waiting."

"You're what? You're sailing?"

"Why are you concerned about me sailing? I believe I know these waters better than you!"

"That is not what I meant. And clearly, I believe I know the seas as much as you do."

"Then what's wrong with you?"

"Angelina," he whispered as he pulled her close to him.

He left no space; the young man had embraced her like he wouldn't have the chance to do it again. Angelina's tiny whimpers had been audible now, or maybe they were just waiting for him for them to be heard.

She couldn't handle it anymore; sooner or later, she'd explode. "Come with me."

"And why shall I? I never should've followed you twelve years ago."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Leave me alone, Oliver."

"No will do."

She struggles away from his touch, and she wipes her tears as quickly as she could.

"My time costs more than your gold, Lieutenant."

Silently, the two of them walk toward the Lieutenant's manor. Angelina enters the place, a place she knew of as home; but not anymore, she thought.

She had gone to the second floor of Oliver's house, where a sophisticated couch sits on the center of the lobby. It is facing a massive window that lets anyone witness the beauty of the sea. Angelina carefully sits on the couch, and the lad follows beside her. "Wine?"

"No."

"Anything you need?"

"I need to go."

"Angelina..."

She taps her pocket watch, "Say what you must, Lieutenant."

"Look, I—"

"Just spit it, Oliver."

"I heard the commotion. Were you stealing inside the governor's manor?" he asks, his tone with great concern. "Are cargo ships and other pirate ships not enough?"

"I realized I had to step up my game. Why steal from fellow pirates and cargo vessels when I can rob the rich who do not care to look at his people?" she says in a neutral tone, crossing her legs. "Happy?"

"No," he sighs. "I don't want you to get caught. I can't let you be in trouble. I may be a lieutenant, but I can't save you from the governor, Angelina."

"Then don't. Easy, Oliver," she smiles. "Anything else?"

He stares at her, the way he always does. Those eyes looked exactly like the sea—calm as the waves and the calmest of blues.

For more than a decade, she had seen the galaxies in his eyes, had kissed the most delicate lips there are in men, had pinched the cutest of noses, and probably, the warmest of embraces.

Oliver is home; soon, he'd be another woman's spouse. "Can't you see how difficult this is for me?"

The pirate woman stands abruptly, walking away, but he pulls her against his front. Oliver secures the woman by wrapping his arms around her.

He carefully places his chin on her shoulder; his eyes shut closed with the fear of finally losing her. "Angelina, we can talk about this..."

No matter how painful, her body seemed to know what it wanted very well.

Her hands absent-mindedly crawled onto Oliver's, feeling his warmth, touching the home that had been hers for the longest time. "Would that change anything?"

"I...I don't know."

"Oliver..."

"Please. Angelina. I'm bombarded with everything right now. The promotion, the engagement, I don't know anymore."

He tightens his arms around her, "All I know is that you're the one I want. You're everything I want."

She slowly turns to face him, "Ollie."

"I'll turn them down. I don't want the promotion. I don't want to be engaged with some spoiled, badly-behaved woman. I don't want anything; it is you what I yearn for, every day, every minute..." Oliver says, with a tone so longing, a longing just for her.

"We can run away."

"Oliver, I—"

"We can leave this hell of a place. We can sail away, the seas as our home. Raise our children together. We'll discover new places, uncover treasures..."

He rests his forehead against hers, his palms soothing her cheeks, never ready to let go, "All I need is for you to say yes."

Angelina blinks a few times, unsure of what the lad had meant. "What do you mean?"

Oliver reaches in his pocket, and the woman catches sight of a blue, sophisticated box.

Oliver slowly opens it, revealing glittering silver—an expensive diamond in its center. Oliver was now going to ask for her hand in marriage while being engaged with another. An arranged marriage, as expected of him.

"Marry me, Angelina. Let's sail the seas for eternity."

Should I be joyous? She asked herself. In all honesty, she loved his idea of sailing away and making the seas their forever home; if she didn't love him enough, she would run away with him.

But she did. She loves him more than anything in the world, and if there is something she'd do for Oliver, it is to sacrifice.

"And what about your retired father, your dutchess mother?" she asks, tears going evident every second. "Have you no reputation to look after? No duties, no honor?"

"I don't want them, Angelina," he states. Looking in his eyes, she knew he meant what he said; and he would.

He would run away with Angelina any time she wanted. What would you expect of a love that had been there, never gone, and never doubted, for twelve years?

"What about all your sacrifices, your hardships in becoming who you are now, Lieutenant Oliver Stevenson?" she cries.

He grips her arms to support her from being exhausted, but she keeps ongoing. "I love you too much to run away with you."

"Angelina—" she cuts him. "Do you want this, Oliver? You're in the navy. I'm a sea criminal."

"So scandalous," she sarcastically chuckles.

"You command the navy. I command scumbags, and I steal."

She removes his grip from her arm and walks away when Oliver pulls her back again. This time, she unsheathed her sword from the leather belt that hugged her and pointed it dangerously close to him.

Though, she didn't expect Oliver to spark a potential duel. He pulls his blade from its sheath as well, hitting her sword hard that it reaches the floor with a clang.

The pirate woman's blade hits the marble floor as the Lieutenant grips her wrist, preventing her from raising the weapon, "Don't make me do this, Angelina."

"You won't hurt me, Oliver."

"God forbid. Unless an evil spirit touches my body, I won't lay a sword on you. Not even a hand."

"You're making me fall for you even more."

"Is it working?" his eyes gleamed for the slightest bit, but the torment in him was still conspicuous. "Should we marry?"

Her eyes delay the threat of tears once more upon hearing what Oliver had said. Their longing gaze to one another spoke of the eternity they could spend together, and the thought makes her lips curl into a tiny smile.

But it was replaced with a scowl when she managed to escape from his grip and pin him against the wall, her blade threatening his neck. "I love you, Ollie. I always have."

"We don't have to do this," he mutters to her.

Oliver pushes her back and parries easily when she attacks. Angelina's blade had fallen to the floor, and now Oliver replaced the blade in her hand with his longing ones.

Then his lips crashed against hers. Again, and again—and again.

Their lips moved in sync; a dam of emotions the two of them had been holding seemed to have been released. After a while, Oliver carefully, reluctantly, pulls away.

"I love you, Angelina. Why won't you sail away with me?" he whispers to her ear, pain evident in his voice. "For twelve years, it is only you that I have loved."

She smiles, letting out a chuckle. She holds his face even tighter, pinching his cheeks, admiring how stunning Oliver looked even when he had tears welling up in his eyes.

"I do too, Ollie. A lot more than you ever know."

"I will miss you, your smile, your kisses, how warm and how home you feel..." she smiles. "I miss you already."

He hastily holds her arms, "You don't have to."

'Tis now or never, she tells herself. Her last chance to set her gaze on this man, last moment to kiss or embrace the boy she had loved for more than a decade—to bid her farewell and to accept that no matter what, she was always on the losing side anyway.

Without Angelina, he'd marry the daughter of a king, commanding the navy, and all those duties that had always brought him honor.

And she'd be sailing with a crew of pirate scumbags—alone, lonely, and unloved.

"Let's just say, lieutenant..." she mumbles, getting close to him. She pushes him back to the couch, straddling his lap.

With a concerned look from Oliver, he tries to soothe her arm, only for Angelina to place her lips on his one last time.

He responds with tongue, but a few moments later, he feels cold metal on his wrist. Angelina had handcuffed Oliver to the railing of the stairs behind the couch and is now ready to set sail.

"Angelina—what are you doing?"

She holds his cheek and places a soft kiss on his forehead.

With the purest intentions, she smiles weakly at him, "I'm sorry."

"Angelina! Please!" he calls in agony.

The pirate woman grabs her weapon from the floor, and before she rushes down the stairs, she looks at him one last time.

"I'm sorry, Oliver..." she says in between sniffs. "Let us never cross paths again."