Author's disclaimer: I do not claim ownership to anything having to do with Pirates of the Caribbean nor to I claim ownership over Johnny Depp or Jack Davenport (sadly… cuz I'd have meself a dilly of a time… :P) No profit is made off of this story (again, sadly… I think I could milk a few millions from Bruckheimer to write the sequels… again, having a dilly of a time…)
Summary: James Norrington had a life before the Royal Navy… but it was stolen from him. [Prequel to Renegade… I suggest you read it for complete understanding of where this fic is coming from…]
O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O
Rebel Heart
O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O
Dover, England…
The wind was bitingly cold as the waves struck the rocks with a reckless abandon he only wished he could have. It was late, just like it usually was when he found his way to the surf that tugged at his mind constantly. James Norrington let out a weary breath as he sat down on the damp grass only a few feet from the edge of the cliff. It was a bitterly cold winter in England, but this was the warmest it had been all season… and it was pitch black in the middle of the night. The clouds covered the moon and the stars were scattered among the overcast sky. He couldn't see the water he knew to be a deep, almost midnight blue in the light of day. Instead, it looked inky black as it ran up against the rocks and the shore. It wasn't a normal hour for the young man to be awake, but lately, there wasn't much that didn't keep him from sleep. His father, the stately William Wentworth Norrington II, of Norrington Trust, was beginning to make his life miserable. It was the bank that had made the Norrington family a meager fortune to allow them a slight life of luxury. And it was through that same institution that dear William wished his family name to be passed down. The only thing missing from such an ideal future was the financial backing to make the Norrington name almost universal and synonymous with success… That would require the money of an heir or an heiress. And what better way to do that than to have the Norrington children marry well. And just one day past, Penelope Jayne Norrington became Penelope Jayne Lindondale, Countess of Northbrook. It was rumored that Phillip Lindondale and his father, George, had ties into the monarchy. William and Rosamina Norrington couldn't have been more pleased if dear Penny had married His Royal Majesty himself. Now, it was the son's turn to find the right name to attach himself to. James let out another sigh as the ocean breeze sent a sea spray up to meet him, the water droplets feeling like tiny razors prickling his skin in the cold wind. It was the roar of the ocean that caused the young man to not hear another's approach.
"Somehow, I knew I would find you here, James," a voice said, causing James to spin around. There stood the sixteen year old Oliver Norrington. The older man let out a relieved breath.
"I thought you may be Father," James told his brother as he turned to look back out at the ocean. The younger man chuckled.
"You know very well, big brother, that Father can not hold his drink. And considering that he just made a fortune off of the 'bartering' of our sister, I would be confident that we will not see him for all of today and maybe not even tomorrow," Oliver said. James's already grim face tightened into a troubled frown.
"Yes. He got his 100,000 pounds plus an investor from George Lindondale and his son. It frightens me as to what he has in his potential bill of sale for myself," James said bitterly. Oliver laughed.
"Well, the way Lady Kimberly was watching you at the wedding, I have a thought that she may be stamping her name to it," he said. James shook his head.
"That woman is a widow twice over and is well into her thirties. She is just on the lookout for a young plaything," he said disgustedly. Oliver lifted a mocking brow.
"At the ancient, primordial age of nineteen, you are correct to think you're well past her interest," the younger man said with heavy sarcasm. James gave his younger brother a look.
"And at the tender age of sixteen, it would be wise of you to refrain from beginning such conversations," he said. Oliver let out a laugh.
"You're much too proper, James. Has anyone thought to inform you of that?" he asked. James smiled.
"I have been informed of that a time or two," he answered. Oliver raised a brow.
"God help you should you become more so in your old age," he warned. James shook his head.
"Once I get out from under Father's watchful eye, things will be better," he said. Oliver put a hand on his older brother's shoulder.
"James… the only way things are going to get better is if you go far, far away from here. Father will not rest until you are manning the trust, with a pretty heiress wife at your side and six or seven heirs to carry on the great Norrington tradition. The long and short of it is that he will not rest until you are completely miserable," he said with an astuteness that belied his age. James nodded solemnly.
"I'm aware of that Ollie. Very aware…" he said. Then, he took a breath and turned away from the ocean. "Come, let's get out of this miserable weather and back into the house. Mother would have a fit to know you're out here." Oliver laughed.
"Mother would have a fit to find you out here as well… but you've been evading her for years longer than I have," he said as the two walked back towards the humble estate the Norrington family had resided in for the past forty years. Silence reigned as they continued their walk.
"You know, James… with me at Eton and with Pen off to live in the esteemed Lindondale Hall… maybe it would be best for you to get out as well… and not just the house… leave Dover," the younger Norrington suggested. Then, his eyes lit up as he struck upon an idea, no matter how absurd it sounded. "You could always join the military…" James let out a chuckle.
"Me, a military man… I'm not certain it would be a fit for me," he said. "But I understand what you are trying to say." Oliver smiled as he reached over and knocked his brother's arm lightly.
"I just say think about it, James," he said. The elder brother nodded once as they approached the door to the house. Oliver entered first, without any sense of hesitancy at all. But then again, why would he hesitate. He was a youthful, jovial sixteen-year-old without a care in the world. James paused, his hand on the door. A military man… For some reason that phrase stuck in his mind and without a thought, he let the door slam to its frame behind his brother. Putting his hands into his coat pockets, he looked over the snow covered land, and the icy cold water that lay just beyond it. Me, a military man? James smiled as he shook his head in dismissal of the thought. The door behind him creaked as it opened, causing James to look curiously over his shoulder. His father stood there, eyes bloodshot from an evening of celebration and a shotgun in hand.
"James? What the bloody hell are you doing out here at this hour of the night?" he asked gruffly, sleep evident in his voice. James lifted an autocratic brow as he looked at the man who had fathered him.
"One could ask the same of you," he said. William Norrington frowned.
"Don't get smart with me, boy. Your mother thought she heard an intruder. Now, get in the house and find your bed. We're to go to the Lindondale's come sunup," the older man demanded before he shut the door with a snap, leaving James staring at the door. The young man let out a breath as he turned back to look at the ocean. Me, a military man…
O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O
To be continued…
What do you think??