Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Insert standard disclaimer-y stuff here...misaoshiru am not coherent right now. Leave a message after the moo. Moo.
Reflections on a Blade
by misaoshiru
"An old friend," Beckett had said, and Norrington's eyes widened at the sight of the sword, commissioned in recognition of a smaller promotion that occurred what felt like a lifetime ago. But the sword was no friend, beautiful as it was. It was cold steel. Ruthless. Deadly. Perfectly willing to rend the flesh of those who trusted in its power. It was just like him.
God...Norrington loved power. He loved leading men. Being trusted. And now he'd betrayed that trust to regain his former power. William Turner...a blacksmith who made up for his low social standing with an inner fire that, in times of danger to him or especially to those around him, burned far brighter than any at his forge. Jack Sparrow, who, despite Norrington's hatred for the man, had provided decent (if grudging) company at times during the long voyage at sea and who, in a different life, might actually have been...a friend, as much as the thought repulsed him. And Elizabeth Swann, his first and only love, who never returned his feelings but who was willing to fight by his side, against the world, nonetheless. And he had betrayed them in an attempt to regain the honor he once had. What bitter irony.
But there was no going back. He had made his choice, and it was the right one. He hoped.
Author's Notes:
Took forever to come up with a title for this. Was helped by Jupe-san, my bestest friend. -heart- Um. When I first typed the title, I accidentally typed "Reflections on a Bald." Oops.