A/N: Hello everyone! This story kind of grabbed me by the heartstrings and wouldn't let up. I've gotten around thirty pages of it written so far, but I started in the middle, so I have been filling in gaps on both sides. I finally settled on a beginning I would be fine with not changing, and so that's what this first chapter is.
This story is OC x James Norrington. Keep in mind that this first chapter here starts about the time that we first see young Elizabeth sailing to Port Royal in the movies. The next chapter would be many years in advance. So, nobody freak out in thinking I'm pairing a 12 year old with the lovely James. I must admit that I am not usually a fan of OC romances, and I am a Norribeth shipper, but here is my reason for writing this:
This story was written because I wanted to know what it would be like if James had had someone in his corner exclusively. James never really seems to have this sort of devotion aimed at him in canon, and I thought after everything he'd been through, he deserved something good. Please be a critic and tell me what's good and what's not, and keep in mind that this story can change, and can develop as you influence it. With this long note, let's do our best!
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine, and all due credit goes to the creators of POTC.
Sea birds swooped and called to each other merrily, plucking food from the hands of unsuspecting villagers as they scurried along. Port Royal was truly a little gem of the Caribbean. Mostly safe, likely due to the Naval presence, and exceedingly well-stocked with all manner of goods and trinkets. It was an exceptionally bustling day in port city, with several vessels having made port around the same time. One of these such ships was the merchant-class vessel the Faodail.
As the sun glinted off of the vessel's surprisingly well-kept soft green trim, she looked a bit mismatched. Sure, the ship caught the eye of naval-minded folk in each new port she graced, as she was outfitted with offensive weaponry—but it was this outfitting that made her a bit unusual for a supposedly merchant-class ship. Some might have wondered what need prompted the relative abundance of artillery, and perhaps suspected piracy if they had not yet met her jovial and kind captain.
If the Faodail had ever had the fortune, or perhaps misfortune, of drawing alongside the famed pirate ship, The Black Pearl, then one could have noticed that the merchant vessel was perhaps two-thirds the size, and unsurprisingly outgunned by The Pearl. However, the Faodail had never come across such a ship, and in the odd case where she couldn't outrun her opponents, the merchant ship's cannons could make one nasty target—no matter about being outgunned.
The Faodail's Captain Murdoch was somewhat of an odd Scotsman, being that he was near universally well-admired. The man was a tactician, and in his thirty years at sea, he'd made more friends than enemies. He considered it his place in the world to ferry goods where they needed to go, and in the meantime take a chunk out of the lawlessness at sea. The captain stood precariously between the Crown and the pirates—giving allegiance to neither side, yet not a threat to either.
Captain Murdoch stroked his long red beard, and moved nimbly down the stairs from the poop deck, keeping a watchful eye on his crew's progress. The crew were unloading the goods they had carried in the hold, each eager to be finished so they could spend their coin in town. He watched a bleating goat be carried topside, and knew of a certain ship occupant who would miss her furry companions.
A smile quickly spread over the Captain's face at the sight of a familiar head of hair bobbing excitedly around the deck. In an unfamiliar flutter of lace and fine cloth, his excitable daughter rushed to perch before him expectantly. This was the first time since his daughter had been but a toddler that he'd seen her in a dress. His Isabella had been raised on this very ship by his side since she was nearly four years old—and seeing her look so fragile in a dress gave him pause. Recalling the circumstances of his daughter's ship-bound life made some of the twinkle leave the man's eyes.
He'd met her mother in the colonies. The woman, hailing from English nobility had looked far too fair and out of place among the other Virginia colony settlers. Yet, there had been a fire in those blue eyes, and he'd fallen hopelessly for her. Captain Murdoch had known he wasn't good enough for her—the mere captain of a ship, and destined to always be traveling. His love hadn't minded, however, and after their first year of marriage, their child was born.
The Murdochs had been happy, truly happy for those five years. However, on a return trip from sailing to England, he had simply arrived to find his wife gone. She'd passed on from a fever that swept through the settlements, they had said. It was such an anticlimactic scene, to find she had been gone for weeks and he hadn't even known! Captain Murdoch had been devastated, and thought surely his daughter must have perished as well. However, by the grace of God, his little girl had survived.
Unable to bear leaving his Isabella in the care of another and chance something happening while he was gone, he simply brought his girl on board. In no time at all, the clever girl had adapted to her surroundings—getting in trouble along the way, and each year she became more and more skilled at survival on the sea. However, there'd been no purposes for dresses on board (since they could prove a fatal hazard when caught in lines, or if she were to go overboard), until this year on her twelfth birthday.
"Papa, please! In all of the stories, the ladies get to wear fancy dresses! I want to wear one when we come to land. Won't you let me be a lady, papa?" His daughter had pleaded in that fashion—and ever susceptible to his daughter's whims, the girl was wearing her new dress for the first time today.
Pulling himself from his thoughts, he realized Isabella was still gazing at him expectantly. Looking into the girl's hazel eyes, he knew instantly what she wanted, but decided to see if she would ask in that altogether adorably cunning way of hers.
"Why, hello there, my lady. That is a mighty beautiful dress you're wearing."
The girl's smile was radiant. "Thank you, papa! Although..." At this, Isabella sighed dramatically, "I don't have any coins, so I can't wear my pretty dress around while shopping."
Captain Murdoch laughed heartily, and Isabella's façade cracked into a playful smile. Pulling out a small coin purse he kept for her, he handed it over, "Alright now, you clever thing. Go find you something nice—but remember not to run off too far."
Isabella beamed and picked up her skirts to rush down to the dock. Her skirts were swishing around her legs, and she couldn't help but be enamored with the delicate blue cloth. She touched the matching blue ribbon in her hair and fancied that she must look like a real noble lady. Giggling, she tossed her nose in the air and did her best to walk elegantly like she had imagined the ladies did in her books.
Isabella scanned the market, eager to get something she would really enjoy. She already had her dress, but she thought she could enjoy another reward as well—she'd been such a big help on the ship lately! Papa had even let her call out orders to the crew a few times.
Taking notice of a fruit stand, Isabella quickly decided to use her one coin on an apple. She loved fruit! Exchanging the coin for the apple, she bounced excitedly in place. It wasn't often that she was able to have fresh fruit like this! She hurried back to the dock to admire the other ships while she ate—hoping to learn their names in case she saw them again.
Suddenly, a bird swooped for her prized fruit and she managed to step quickly away, although the distraction caused her to fail to lift her too-long skirt, and she felt herself tripping up in the fabric. With a bit of a yelp, she found herself sprawled on the dock—only looking up in time to see her fallen apple racing over the side and into the harbor.
"Oh no!" She cried, covering her eyes in dismay. Her father didn't approve of wasting coin, and she'd surely wasted hers with her clumsiness. Even worse, she had only been given the one coin.
Suddenly, she heard a voice above her. "Pardon, miss, are you quite all right?" Isabella looked up in shock—she hadn't heard anyone approach. A man stood there, dressed in the blue and white of the royal navy, extending a hand toward her. She looked at it for a moment in shock, before attempting a smile, embarrassed, as she accepted his offer.
The man helped her up. "Um, I'm okay. Thank you, sir." She tried a curtsy like she had seen other women doing during their travels, but she knew immediately that it wasn't very graceful, and her cheeks started to burn, yet the man made no comment.
The man looked at her a moment as if making a decision, and then said, "I couldn't help but notice that you lost your apple, Miss…?"
Isabella colored further at the thought that he had seen her mishap. "Ah, Murdoch, sir. Isabella Murdoch. That's right, I just bought it from the market."
Nodding decisively, the man extended his arm for the young girl. "Very well then, Miss Murdoch. I'm Lieutenant Norrington of the King's Royal Navy. If you would give me the honor, I would quite like to make sure you are able to enjoy an apple today, free from harassment of the birds. It is the Crown's utmost priority to help ladies in distress." Isabella thought she saw a humorous smile on the man's face, but it was difficult to tell with his serious demeanor.
Giggling a bit to herself at the dramatic chivalrous flair that Lieutenant Norrington was giving to the situation, she accepted his arm. On the way to the market, Isabella surreptitiously studied the lieutenant from the corner of her eye. He had a very clean face, and the dark hair tied at the nape of his neck looked well cared for. Isabella fancied that this was how all real gentleman were supposed to look!
Once at the fruit stall, Norrington let her choose another apple and then swiftly polished it on his coat before reaching for a small knife at his hip. With a flourish, he cut the apple in two and handed her both halves. "I hope you don't mind, I find it's easier to eat this way." He said with a slight smile.
Isabella bit into half of the apple gratefully. All of her father's crew were friendly, respectable types—her father refused to bring men on board that could cause a problem for his young daughter. Yet, she had never met someone like the lieutenant—so straight-laced and serious. Isabella absently wondered if he was like this all of the time, and if he was married. Isabella nodded to herself decisively: if she ever married, it would have to be someone just as nice, handsome, and gentlemanly as the lieutenant!
The lieutenant had walked her back to the dock as she finished her apple, and with a cheerful wave, she bid him a good day. Quickly, she gathered up her skirts and set off at a run for the Faodail. She simply must tell her father about the handsome lieutenant!