A Mother's Life
By Kara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through AWE – Follows "Sunrise, Sunset"
Summary: Even the best pirate of all can have limitations, especially as a mother…
Author's Note: Captain Teague's lyrics courtesy of Gaelic Storm, "The Heart of the Ocean"
She cradled the baby to her breast, humming softly as she rocked back and forth in time with the rhythm of the ocean swells. It wasn't conventional, any more so than the lullabies that she sang to her son. As if the son of the Pirate King and the Captain of the Flying Dutchman would be a normal child. As if a child whose veins flowed with salt water and piracy would be happy any place other than the sea…
She tried a land-lubber's life, she honestly did. Whether it was by choice or force, however, was another matter. The Pirate King took up court again in Shipwreck Cove from the moment Hector Barbossa dumped her there. "Ye'll understand, pet. We can't be having a pregnant lady aboard the ship. King or not." There had been pride in his voice when he spoke, mingled with the same hurt she'd often seen on her father's face. 'Why didn't you tell me?' was what he never asked, even as once kidnapper, then reluctant ally, and finally sovereign subject and friend.
Even then, it had taken five months for Hector to notice her 'condition', as the crew so delicately put it. There were more than a few remarks from the crew, not just on her frequent upheavals in the head or over the side, but on her apparent bust swelling like melons and that she was starting to look like a properly curved lass. Hector had worn a particular smirk at that. As if the Pirate King would ever be a proper lass.
When she arrived back at the Cove, escorted as if she were precious treasure, the women--fishwives and prostitutes and trollops all--gave her wide berth. It wasn't just her upbringing and her command over their lovers, masters and lords. They knew who she consorted with, who her husband had become. And beyond that, they didn't know what to make of her anymore than she knew how to properly socialize with them. So there was no feminine gossip, tales of childbed, or comforting hints for her. She suffered through the pains and bloating the way she had endured everything in life—alone, with gritted teeth and a scowl, vowing to survive it.
Captain Teague, Keeper of the Code and the very lore she'd longed for so long to devour, became her only companion in those four months before the baby's birth. When he was sober, he spoke of the Code and how it came to be written, the history of her adopted people, the heritage she'd always longed for. When he was drunk beyond ration and reason, he sometimes spoke of Jackie, of sailing the seven seas with a wee boy who aimed to be as like and unlike his father as he possibly could.
During the day, she held court at any one of the water-front taverns. In the evening, she poured over centuries of pirate fact and fiction the way her father used to study maps and charts for hours on end. When governance had been her father's sphere of knowledge, she had no interest, but now…she had almost wished she paid attention to those long-ago dinner parties and conversations. At least it was a connection to her father, a way of keeping him alive when everything else was lost. She couldn't help thinking he would be proud of her—was proud of her—now. She might not be the lady he'd wanted her to be, but Pirate King was almost a tolerable alternative.
The art of decision-making seemed far too easy compared to what lie ahead. Somehow she always knew she would be a poor mother. Not nourishing and comforting, not traditional in the least. Maybe it was the lack of influence—her own mother died when she was nine, after years of debilitating sickness. And motherhood hadn't been something that she played at as a small child. She never found kittens and puppies and babies cuddly or the slightest bit desirable. Her few dolls all suffered from numerous walks off the plank, until Nurse discovered her favorite game and took them all away. Father tried his hardest to raise her as a lady, that opportunity passed years ago. It might have been the stories that her father's cronies told, night after night over their snifters of brandy, not knowing that a young girl listened at the door. It might have been that her only playmate for so long was the young blacksmith's apprentice—someone she knew was a pirate prince in disguise, even if he himself wouldn't admit to it. Or because her first love had always been pirates, even when she and Will didn't know it.
And all the while, she tried not to count the years, months, days, hours. She tried not to watch the sea or smell it or feel the movement of wind amongst the great ship skeletons as the roll of waves. But it was hard to be a Pirate King and ignore the sea, surrounded as she was by it, coursing through her veins as it did.
She would try to love the baby for Will's sake, for the only part of him that she could hold these next ten years. Because of the gift he gave her that one day and night that would last a lifetime, even if he didn't.
It seemed fitting that the baby arrived in the midst of a storm, one of the worst the Cove had ever seen. The midwife couldn't be found—sober—and no other woman was willing to touch the offspring of the Dread Pirate Will Turner. As luck had it, the Pearl was in the harbor, awaiting repairs. Where Tortuga had once been the port of choice, the Pearl and whoever captained her was seen more and more often in the sheltered waters of the Cove. While it hurt every time the Pearl sailed off without her, it helped to know that they'd be back to see her, that they still considered her crew and family more than their King.
As the wind howled around the eaves of her little cabin of a house, the very structure of the house itself rocking with the storm, her son came into the world. His cries almost drowned out the storm as he slipped, pale as a fish, into Uncle Jack's waiting hands.
Jack himself had still seemed stunned by the fact that she would let him anywhere near her nether region. "At least I know what's what, love" had been his jocular response to her request. "There are those that can't say that now, can they?" with a sly look at Hector, who crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the jibe.
Though he looked more worm-like and scrawny than the round, dimpled babies she vaguely remembered from Port Royal, her son was still pronounced fine and fit. He was complete in every way: ten fingers, ten toes, and one prominent ship's mast that both Jack and Hector exclaimed proudly over, as if they had created the child themselves. She'd expected more, considering his father was a nigh-on immortal captain and his mother no less than the Pirate King. But her son was small and slippery and almost ugly in his own alien way.
So when Jack and Hector placed her son, still smeared with blood, into the cradle of one arm and handed her a knife with the other, she stared at them blankly. It took a bit of gesturing before she realized they meant her to cut the cord. Holding, the knife in her hand, she realized with a start that it was the very knife that Will claimed from his father. When she asked how they got it, they only replied "Sea turtles", which was almost expected.
With a swift motion, she cut through the cord. When she handed it back to Jack, both he and Hector gave her expectant looks. "What?"
Hector motioned with his hands. "C'mon, now, lass. Ye must christen him."
She stared at him. "Like a ship? My son will not have a bottle of rum broken over his head."
Hector sighed. "Nay, lass. The name. What be his name?"
"Jack is a nice name," the other pirate suggested. At her and Hector's unamused looks, Jack shrugged. "What?"
Elizabeth looked down at her son, at the eyes that stared at her so seriously from his baby face. "I name you Will," she said softly. Small Will blinked at her, eyes blue with birth and older than time. He wriggled in her hands, but still gazed at her expectantly. She couldn't help smiling a little bit. "William Turner, Pirate Prince." She turned the baby around so that he could peer up at the two men. "And these are your uncles: Hector and Jack. One of them commands the Black Pearl, though they aren't sure who that is at the moment."
"I'm Captain," Hector and Jack answered as one, glaring at the other.
"Yo ho, yo ho," she sang softly, rocking small Will, "a pirate's life for thee…"
She'd never thought that babies were quiet and well-behaved all the time. And what had she honestly expected, considering this was her son? But the constant fussing, the crying, the tears… It was hard to love him sometimes, in spite being his father's son. The first time small Will's cries interrupted a dispute it was funny. Though startled, the parties in question both laughed as her son wailed in protest.
"Someone must not agree with the proceedings," she muttered, fumbling for the baby in his basket. She picked him up, rocked him, even muttered a snatch or two of song under her breath. It wouldn't do to provide the Brethren with too much amusement. It was hard enough as a woman to be King, even though nothing short of death could remove her from office. To be a mother—that was something most of these men didn't understand, much less herself. But Mother and King? It was unheard of.
He was fed, dry, and nothing was poking or irritating him. He had no teeth yet, and there were no signs of colic or discomfort. But still Will wailed and sobbed, as if the end of the world was nigh. She finally cancelled the rest of her appointments, ending sessions for the day. Hauling her son and his basket back up to her cabin, she finally crumpled on the bed and wept with him.
The second time, barely two days later, she, as casually as she could, repeated the same routine. Blushing fiercely, she even thrust her son down the open neck of her shirt, hoping the breast might quiet him down. But that was to no avail. For the second time in as many weeks, she cancelled Court.
"You'll know that they're taking advantage of you," Captain Teague reminded her that night. "The Code doesn't state that the King must be in residence to handle all disputes."
"The King has to be in residence if she has a baby attached to her chest," she muttered resentfully. She was beginning to love her son, as the only part of her husband that she could hold and physically love these ten years. But it was so hard sometimes, especially when all he did was grizzle and flail his little arms about, unhappy with the world.
"Who is his father?" Captain Teague asked. She stared at him, surprised at his gall. "Trust me on this, lass. Who is his father?"
"William Turner," she answered through gritted teeth. "My husband."
"Captain William Turner," Captain Teague corrected with a slight smile. "And his mother, Captain Elizabeth Turner." When she still stared at him blankly, he put his hands on her shoulders, gently swaying her back and forth. "He's the son of the sea, lass. Conceived on the sea, born to the sea. Mayhap it's only the sea that will comfort him."
To her surprise, Captain Teague picked her son up, cradling him in one gnarled arm. With the other, he stroked Will's fuzzy brown head. He hummed softly, strolling back and forth across the floor with the same rolling gate as his son. "Now I'm bound for the heart of the ocean/ I'm riding the sea in my soul/ In the dark and the deep/ She will rock me to sleep/ Down below, where the black waters roll."
When he handed the baby back, her son was fast asleep. "Mayhap he misses Mother Ocean," he said softly, patting her cheek. "There are plenty that raised babes on ships, lass. The pirate clans have sailed for centuries knowing naught but harbor and sail. Think about it."
When the Pearl pulled into harbor a month later, she was at the docks to meet the crew. Hector gave her an odd look, especially at the bags clustered at her feet and the squalling baby in her arms.
"You're sure about this, lass?" he asked as she all but ran across the gangplank onto ship. As soon as her son felt the rock and shift of the Pearl, his screaming stopped.
"Aye, Captain." She smiled slightly. "What better place for a pirate's son to grow than onboard a ship?"
"Poppet!" Pintel cried, immediately scooping her up and whirling her around. "And the wee princeling!"
"In this case, lass…" Hector began, watching as her son was passed from pirate to pirate, small Will watching everything with eyes as serious and dark as his father's.
"Yo ho, yo ho," she sang softly, stroking her son's soft cheek. She looked forward to a night of rest, of rejuvenation, cradled in the arms of the ocean. It would be a new beginning for both of them, a new journey. "A mother's life for me."