Months later, England

For the past decade, he looked and felt all the same. His chiseled frame, clad in a navy lieutenant's uniform, his head dressed with an urbane officer's hat, and an exquisite blade resting on the side of his hip. 

The medallions glimmered brightly on his chest; evidence of his victories, discoveries, prizes every time he captured notorious sea pirates. He waited for a few more moments before finally shifting his gaze up to the massive mirror across him. Deep in his mind he tells himself he must be joyous for he had once again earned another medal, and secured a future that should be brighter than any; but could he?

Oliver opens his palm, revealing a medallion forged with gold. He stares into his reflection; he wore a face that is of gloom, and inside him, his heart felt no pinch of happiness. Whenever he earned a promotion and a medal, he always looked forward to seeing the woman he loved—Angelina would've visited him in his manor with flowers in hand, showering him with wet kisses as they danced around the hallways. If she was still here, he would've been exuberated; but she isn't, for she is out there sailing the sea. 

He was about to leave the medallion behind when someone clears their throat from outside his slightly-opened door. "May I?"

"Mother," he manages to wear a smile. "You're here early."

"Of course I am, darling!" the duchess exclaims in eagerness. "I wouldn't miss this day."

He chuckles. "No, you wouldn't, Mother. Is...father coming as well?"

"Oh, he is, Ollie dear," she walks towards Oliver, her hands reaching to his torso. 

She tries to fully straighten his navy uniform and arranges properly the rows of medals on his chest. Olivia catches a glimpse of the gold from his son's hand, and she beckons for him to hand it to her. 

"Let me, son."

Olivia pins the medal onto his only son's chest. The duchess couldn't help but wear the sweetest, proudest smile, for Oliver had always achieved the best there is despite his young age. Indeed, the man was blessed with the best of skills and wits, and he was able to make use of these in his life and career. Olivia places her palms on Oliver's torso, her eyes shimmy from the threat of tears.

"You've grown so much, my boy," she lets out a light sniff. "You are no longer my little Ollie who used to run outside the manor, playing imaginary swords with his friends..."

"Mother, don't be too dramatic," he laughs at her. "I'm still your son."

"Oh, you are..." she gently touches his face. "Commodore Oliver, the king's future son-in-law."

He feels a quiver pass through his body as he weighed his options. In the end, he tries to refrain himself from glowering—there was never a choice, after all. 

Everything was decided by his father: his career, his romantic affinities, the life he lived. The only one he had that Commodore Stevenson hasn't controlled was his affair with one of the most notorious pirates in England; at least, that's what he knows. He somehow despises himself for he is now a man of age and he should be able to make his own decisions; why was he letting his father make verdicts for everything?

"I suppose I am," he tries to wear a smile. "Still, Mother, I don't think I am fit to marry—"

"Stop right there, my son. You deserve all of this! And you are more than fit to be the future husband of the princess..." she wraps his son in her warm, motherly embrace. 

"You've been an honorable, brilliant navy officer. You commanded hundreds of ships, captured all those filthy, infamous sea criminals! All of them!"

She beams with pride and honor; on the other hand, Oliver felt more undeserving of his attainments. It was true that he was the one who imprisoned all the pirate captains the king had asked of him, except for two of them—one being the woman he loves, and the other, he still is unaware about. 

For years, King Gaius II had been searching for Angelina El Salazar, the long-lost daughter of the infamous Spanish pirate, Capitan Eduardo El Salazar. People believed the tale that he once married Calypso, the sea nymph. Even though those were just mindless fabrications, the king wanted El Salazar's bloodline gone; and no one knew the reason why. Some say he used to be good friends with the Spanish Captain, but the king envied him too much that it led to deep hatred.

Today as Oliver officially becomes commodore, he fears that the king would cast on him the most difficult task in his lifetime; to capture the notorious Captain Angelina, and the other pirate lad King Gaius had mentioned in the past. One who freely and endlessly navigates the seas, and for more than a decade, has never been found.

He cocoons his mother's hands in his as he smiled, "...thank you, Mother."

"Your father and I, we are very proud of you, my son."

He never was, he hears a voice at the back of his head. He never will. "I know."

Suddenly her mother's eyes seemed to look gloomy. "I am happy, son..."

"For what, Mother?"

"You are an obedient child," she smiles. She then slowly shakes her head in great disapproval, her emotion filled with disappointment. "You never broke the rules. You never rebelled."

He sighs. "Mother, please."

"He was such a rebellious child, your friend," she reminisces. "Running away from his father—"

"Mother, I implore," he lets out a lonely sigh. "It's been more than a decade. We don't have to talk about him anymore. It's in the past."

The sound of a carriage outside the Stevenson's manor had reminded them that it was already time to leave for the royal gathering. 

It had been months since Angelina decided to leave him behind; in the darkness, unaware of whatever reason she had to yield from a love that had been there for so long. It was hard for him, coping with a grieving heart for the first few months, but he managed to survive the pain, anyway. There were countless nights where he almost yearned to just give in to his sorrows; the only thing that had kept him going was that tiny hope that somehow, his lover will come back. That Angelina would return to him and she'd accept his offer to live with her, faring the sea for the rest of their lives. 

It is no doubt that the lieutenant had loved no one but the Spanish pirate, all his life.

This day, he ought to be acquainted with the woman he was betrothed to; a woman he doesn't even know about. This would be the first time the couple would cross paths; it is true that they have been engaged to one another even before Angelina left, but as the newly-promoted Commodore of the Royal Navy, he had to fulfill a few important duties before anything else.

"Mother, shall we?"

"We shall, son."

Displeasure was all Oliver had felt the moment they stepped foot on the king's garden, where the gathering is held. It was a grand, sophisticated engagement party for one princess and a commodore. All corners of the place seemed to be filled with chattering, posh royalties from several domains. No woman seemed to be not wearing a massive, lace hat that almost covered their entire faces, and all the girls who are present never spoke without fluttering their expensive fans.

Plenty of women tried to capture the attention of the esteemed commodore, flapping their fans and batting their thick eyelashes. Their voices went high-pitched whenever they engaged in conversation, which only brought disdain upon the man. Oliver did his very best to excuse himself from all the ladies out there that Duchess Olivia had to entertain them for the sake of acknowledgment. Oliver had been able to move away from places where there were flocks of posh women as he purposely went to a more secluded part of the estate. 

A servant carrying a tray of beverages walks up to him, offering a drink to the lone commodore. Oliver takes a sparkling, French wine, sipping a bit as the servant treads away.

Upon drinking, he levels his hand to his chest, letting out a relaxed sigh. He had been standing and talking nonsense for hours, he somehow wished he could just get over this and return home. Dipping his other hand inside his side pocket, he sips from his glass once again, only for his attention to be kindled by a certain view from far across the garden.

And there she was—surrounded by a bunch of both men and women, three of her servants neighboring around the fair, alluring maiden. Her hair that reached her chest was of neat curls, and she held a laced fan that covered the lower half of her face, but not enough to hide her nose of exquisite form. Her head was clad of expensive jewels, and her frame was hugged by a cloud-colored gown.

His eyes remained focused on the young woman far across; he almost didn't notice that the glass of wine he was holding was already pouring lightly on his shoes. No one would really blame him for that, though; who wouldn't be enthralled when the princess of England sets her lovely eyes on you?

She somehow reminded him of his lover, Angelina. He wanted to shake his head and brush off his silly thoughts. It had been months and still, he wouldn't get over the pirate woman. His heart stings at the thought; has she already found a new lover?

The two shared their gazes for quite a while. The fair highness was somehow struck by how handsome the commodore had appeared today, without both of them knowing that they were actually betrothed. None of them planned on breaking one's gaze; Oliver was too preoccupied thinking about how Angelina would've looked in that maiden's dress, but the duchess had suddenly appeared beside him. He almost flinched in surprise. 

"Mother?"

"Goodness, Oliver! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Apologies, Mother. I wanted to be away from those chattering women."

"The king is already inside," Olivia takes a quick look at her son. "You shall meet the princess."

"At this very moment?" he asks. "I haven't even—"

"Look at you, you clumsy lad!" the duchess says in a mortified tone. "Your shoes, darling!"

"My shoes?" he shifts his head down to take a look.

It was then when he realized that his wine had poured onto his shoes. Way to go, Oliver, he rolls his eyes. He shakes his head as the duchess calls help to polish the leather. Once finished, Olivia leads Oliver inside the royal estate.

There were only two royal guards inside, both standing on both sides of the king's throne. Former Commodore Stevenson, Oliver's retired father, walks toward them as they entered. The young commodore couldn't refrain from letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Olivia, my love," says his father, kissing his mother on the cheek. He then turns to Oliver, his arms open for an embrace. "Oliver, son..."

"Father," he forces a slight smile, but it was too noticeable. There was a look of hatred in his eyes.

The two share a swift embrace as Oliver releases himself from his father's arms immediately. The family was about to have a conversation when one of the royal guards announced the king's presence. "Ladies and gentlemen, his majesty, King Gaius II," the guard declares. "And her royal highness, Princess—"

The king raises a hand, halting the royal guard. He scans the empty hall, his face scrunched up in disdain. He exhales, his eyes shut closed. "...what did I command you to do?"

"Sire," the guard bows his head. "To relay a message to the princess to—"

"Indeed!" the king laughs sarcastically. "But where is she? Where!"

"The princess—"

"Where is my child!" demanded the king, his tone authoritative. "Bring her in here, at once. Does she think I have too much time to waste?"

Oliver notices his majesty's hands. Both are balled into tight fists like he was ready to give someone the hardest punch they'd ever receive. They were shaking as well, the only thing that was missing is that his hands haven't turned red yet. Suddenly the king sets his eyes on the Stevensons.

"Ah, the Stevensons! The best there is in the navy," his mood changes instantly, from a face that spoke exasperation to a look that seemed jolly and delighted. He seemed suspicious to Oliver. "Ah, my former Commodore Stevenson! I see that retirement is not for you."

"Your Royal Highness. If only I could stay for a few more years," Oliver's father wears a massive smile. "But it is an honor, for Oliver..."

"Your Royal Highness," bows Oliver.

He offers King Gaius a smile. The king mirrors the action, offering his hand to the young man. Oliver gladly shakes his majesty's hand. The king nods at him in great approval.

"I never chose wrong, all these years, in my lifetime..." mumbles the king.

"You are the most honorable," the king taps Oliver's shoulder. "I see you fit for my precious flower. Even more suitable than those egoistic, care-for-nothing dukes and princes!"

"Thank you, Sire."

"All these years, you were the only one who was able to bring to me those filthy sea criminals," the king declares to the family. "And you proved your brilliance when you commanded hundreds of the ships, sailing the British waters."

"I am honored—"

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie Lucrecia."