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james + elizabeth ft. number 76 pls

76. i want you to have this request me a drabble!

It was an accepted ritual at the Swann household that a dinner with Captain Norrington was followed by a game of cards. A table in the parlor was reserved for this purpose, four chairs perpetually set aside; and when the team composed of Governor Swann and his steward Cooper grew tired of losing game after game, James and Elizabeth modified the rules of whist to accommodate the remaining two people.

With the elevated strategies came elevated stakes—in lieu of gambling for money, James would lend Elizabeth books from his library that were otherwise deemed too uncouth for the Swann library, primarily naval strategy and local histories. Governor Swann turned a blind eye, and so the two continued their campaign to make a relaxing game stressful until their schedules became too busy to allow for such a distraction.

Years later, they sit in an inn on their return journey to Port Royal, a war having been fought, an evil having been defeated, and Elizabeth returns to their table with a deck of cards. She sets a single shilling on the table and passes James the deck.

“Here.” She sits across from him and steeples her fingers. “Deal.”

James begins to shuffle the cards automatically, his eye straying to the coin. “You have spent too much time with pirates,” he accuses, “if we have finally graduated to betting money.”

Elizabeth smiles wolfishly. “The night is young, James. Who is to say what will be put on the table?”

With each trick, they up the ante. They wager coins, at first, but slowly become more creative, even with their attire and equipment in such dire straits as they are now. A pocket knife, a whetstone, a rusted locket pilfered from who-knows-where, James’ neckcloth, Elizabeth’s earring, a promise of a round of rum—and the grand prize, a Haywood novel Elizabeth had apparently begged off a woman in the market that afternoon.

“You planned this,” James says, thumbing the last card in his hand.

Elizabeth holds her card with both hands close to her chest. “Some memories stick with you,” she says. “It would not be a proper game with James if we did not have some novel at stake, would it? And besides, it is not looking too likely you will read it anyhow,” she adds, peering at their respective won tricks. She clearly leads by a huge margin. 

James does not grant her the satisfaction of following her meaning and feigns confusion. She scoffs and sets down her card, leaning back with satisfaction as she takes the last trick.

“You are the unluckiest man in the entire Caribbean, James,” she declares.

“I will not argue that.”

They tally the score. Elizabeth does her best to reign in her dignity as the results become clear: she has taken the most tricks, yes, but of the wrong suit. James has won.

“It seems I, for once, am not the one providing the literature,” he says, with a wolfish smile of his own.

“Perhaps you have not considered that I wanted you to have this,” she returns tartly. “You can read it to me on the next leg of our journey.”

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Swann,” he says. He reaches across the table to take her wrist, squeezing gently. “I wish only to serve.”

The sudden sincerity in his voice makes Elizabeth pause, her breath catching. She holds his gaze for a long moment, eyes wide—then swiftly pulls away, clearing her throat as she gathers the cards back into a stack.

“Oh, if that is your form of gloating, it is intolerable. You shall not throw me off the war path,” she says, already shuffling again. “Another match?”