He's Not a Pirate
Will and Elizabeth stood on the wall overlooking the vast Caribbean Sea. Her wrists rested lightly on his shoulders, and his hands caressed her waist.
From behind, Captain Swann asked, "So this is the path you choose, Elizabeth? A blacksmith?"
Elizabeth smiled and pushed back a stray lock of his hair. "No," she mused, "He's a pirate." She leaned into his chest and slipped back his hat. In the brief moment before their lips touched she saw his glowing eyes eating into hers. Then that moment passed, and she was consumed in him: his fragrance, his taste, his feel, his…his kiss. It felt so natural. Of course it was natural that she, Elizabeth Swann, would choose a blacksmith--a pirate. What else?
She turned her attention back to her lover. She concentrated on the rhythm: In, out, in out. It was the Kiss of Life. And then it was over.
Will broke free. He stepped back, taking her hands in his. He knelt before her, and breathed.
"Elizabeth, I…" His words were tossed away by the wind. "Elizabeth…" He stopped again. It was as if the wind would not allow his proposal. He was perturbed, she could tell. But he wants me, she thought. Or did he?
She stared into his eyes. He squinted against the glare of the setting sun. His mouth hung open. His damp hands tightened on hers. Will cleared his throat to speak.
Then the wind blew, tossing his hat right off his head, and over the wall. They both stared after it, as if something truly valuable had just been lost. Elizabeth swallowed, and looked at Will. The wind was warning her, or so she thought. So she too knelt down. She put out a hand and smoothed back his hair.
"Just say it," she encouraged.
Will smiled. "Elizabeth, would you marry me?"
Her lips parted into a smile. "Yes, Will Turner, I will marry you."
About 1 month later…
Dozens of on-lookers were crowded into the sparse pews of the church. Soon their low murmurings were silenced. Elizabeth, the bride, adorned with a necklace and silver brooch, accompanied by the stately Captain Swann, proceeded down the aisle. When they reached the alter, Elizabeth left his side and went to stand next to Will.
He stared at her, his eyes round with anticipation of their years ahead. His distinguished smile brought true appreciation to his shoulder-length hair. He reached out and took her. In his glowing eyes, her face reflected back at her. Will squeezed her hand. It was clear he truly loved her. Or so she thought.
But the Wind didn't.
Thus, Elizabeth herself was confused. She had such feelings for Will, or at least she had in the days prior to his proposal. But the wind was her friend, and had been since she was a child. But she cast this thought aside.
The priest cleared his throat, addressing Will. "Do you, Will Turner, take Elizabeth Swann as your lawful wedded wife?"
Will's eyes brimmed. "I do," he murmured.
The priest continued. "Do you, Elizabeth Swann, take Will Turner as you lawful wedded husband?"
She looked down, and thought about this one. Yes, she thought about it very hard. She thought about it very, very hard. She thought about it so hard, that she came to a conclusion.
Elizabeth looked up, and smiled. "No," she said, and walked away.
