I do not own the PotC franchise, as if I would. This is a Norribeth one-shot. And that line, at the end, is not mine, either. That belongs to the genius behind REIGN.
It was firm as iron, her steadfast resolution, her steel hatred of me, fueled by her belief that I had a hand in her father's death, a man I've respected so much, that I couldn't even dream of intending to murder. But there was a glimmer of worry in her eyes, no matter the hatred, something like the care she had for William that she had shown the whole of Port Royal to see as she decided to be with her blacksmith turned pirate, that stubborn will bent to show her past friendship with someone so despicable. . .someone like me.
"Come with us," there was reluctance in her voice, it was, as if, her mind and conscience were forcing her to do what is good rather than what she believes is right. It was so cold and sharp, a reminder so staggering like the sword given to me once honorably. "James, come with me," how I would have given anything to hear her say those words before, how I would have traded the oceans to hear that tone laced upon her voice, to see that tender look in her eyes as she begged my green and evasive eyes.
". . ." I couldn't find my will, my rock to refuse. It was not meant to be, our union, no matter how smart and advantageous (Even before the whole pirate business mixed their lives into ours.) and right, it was not meant to be and yet I could afford to be so selfish as to keep mum and stare at her in utter confusion and torn belief.
"Who goes there?!" it was a ragged voice, sourced from that dimmed light nearing us. Elizabeth rushed to my side as I tried to cover her with my arm that it would serve as an adequate shield from whatever that is to come. I unsheathe my sword and gripped its hilt tighter than I've ever held it in my whole life. My knuckles, I would say, were white from the sheer force of my grip. We both looked up and I prayed silently, to anyone or anything, praying that whatever attack they could exact upon me, it would not affect Elizabeth.
There was a man above, a sailor of this ship. Soon, from the fog and tumbling dark, I heard rubber boots and descending footsteps. I paled at the sound as I recognized it. We were caught. "Go," I said in between breaths of air, my mind racing with thoughts of how I could save her, "I will follow," I looked up still, even though I knew that the sailor no longer hung up above us, in hopes that I could escape Elizabeth's gaze, in hopes that my love for her will not doom us both—perhaps it is my fate, and only my fate, to die here on this cursed pirate ship to pay for my sins and all my wrongdoings.
Elizabeth, as I could feel, had fixed her gaze upon my face as I stared at the landing, losing hope by the seconds passing. "You're lying!" it was not a question, instead an accusation, an accusation which both she and I could prove true.
Painstakingly, I removed my eyes from the landing above and fixed it upon Elizabeth, oh such beauty she is. I searched for a purpose inside her eyes and saw the life I've once had, the honorable man I've once been and how it seems to be beckoning me. Oh, such beauty. "Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth," she stared right back into my eyes, making it harder for me to continue what I needed to say, yet I remained strong. "But never joined." I leaned down and kissed her, and by the heavens above, she kissed back!
I pulled back as tears pooled in my eyes, as I forced myself to look up above once again and expect the sailor, that damned sailor, to finally appear.
"Go now!" it was a pained voice telling her to go and myself to let go.
Almost immediately, Elizabeth climbed unto the railings and grabbed for the rope connecting the two ships together as the sailor finally appeared, sword in hand, seawater glistening on his forehead and dripping uncontrollably from his soaked, ragged clothes.
"Back to your station, sailor!" I felt my body stiffen up as her neared me. Automatically, my hand had raised itself so that the sword had poised itself above my chest as I prepared myself for an attack, hushed my voice drastically in hopes that others will not follow and that this sailor, no matter how brain dead, would recognize my station and authority and, by some miracle given by whatever god listening, would follow my hushed and careful tones.
"No one leaves the ship," he had said absentmindedly, but there was something behind that dead and empty look in his face.
My hand shook as I pointed the sword in his face. Never in my life had I felt so nervous. "Stand down!" I tried to sound brave and fearless but there was a trembling tone that betrayed me. "That's an order," I immediately recovered, but I'm afraid that my first and previous statement had made its impact and impression, that it won't help much now. It wouldn't be so useful now that there was a fixed look on his face, something that tugged on my guts inside that made me tremble and feel weak.
"That's an order," he repeated absentmindedly, like earlier, although now, it was like he was mocking me. He stared at the sword and at his chest, at where it was supposed to be and began to fiddle with his sea-encrusted fingers. "Part of the crew," it was like he had recited it over and over again in front of a mirror, "part of the ship." He had this driven look on his face, only growing stronger and more confident by the seconds passing by. "Part of the crew, part of the ship!" his chanting grew louder and louder. "Part of the crew, part of the ship!" soon, I heard groaning and shuffling of feet.
I paled at the thought of reinforcements. "Steady man!" I raised my voice, edging the sword near him as he neared the railings.
"Part of the crew, part of the ship!" he muttered loudly to himself as he narrowed his eyes on Elizabeth. "All hands, prisoner escape!" Elizabeth noticed the commotion and began moving back towards me. I felt time slow down as I brandished a pistol using my free arm, threatening to open fire at him.
"Belay that!" I ordered him, yet he did not back down and continued to stare at me in confusion and in determination.
"James!" I quickly turned around to see Elizabeth climbing back towards the ship and I felt turmoil inside my heart. "James!" she yelled again as I mentally shook my head while I readied my pistol and fired at the rope, causing Elizabeth and the rest of her crew to take a plunge to the dark waters. I could hear their screaming as the water had hit then hard, the splash recoiling as the sound rang in my head when my stomach had met with a blade and I felt black dots take over my vision.
"Part of the crew, part of the ship," he muttered once again, leaving the blade in my stomach before withdrawing, leaving me to fall to the railings of the ship, fighting to urge to close my eyes and admit my defeat.
"James! No!" it was a fading sound, Elizabeth's screams, and yet it beckoned me towards something bright and beautiful, like the life she has given, no matter how twisted.
Soon, the crew of the ship, the sailors had rushed to the scene of the crime. "The admiral's dead?" one wondered out loud as he took a good and solid look at me before nodding. "The admiral is dead!" this caused whispering and murmuring to erupt in the usually quiet lot of Davy Jones' crew. "To the captain's cabin!" he roared as Davy Jones made his appearance, at last.
I stared at this captain, at his mutated face. Oh, how unfortunate for me, my mind mused, that I should see this man's face last before I exit this world. "James Norrington," he leaned down and looked at me expectantly, "do you fear death?" I gripped the sword's hilt in my hands, and for one last time, I felt honorable, I felt like I truly did deserve this sword. I stabbed him and I felt my hand go limp and warm from the absence of its embrace from the cold and unforgiving hilt. I felt my last breath of air exit my body.
I saw my life, of how I nearly drowned and how I was saved by a pirate. I remember hating them when I forgot that they were, as am I, humans. I saw the little girl singing a pirate's tune when I was merely a private in a ship, that foggy sea that enveloped the ocean. I remember my promotion, Elizabeth's smile, the good old days. "Such beauty," I wanted my lips to say, to spell out but I found no strength. I wanted to world to know of how I do not regret dying, and yet it will only stay in my mind.
"I'll take that as a no," he stood up and removed the sword from his dead body. "Nice sword," he muttered as he walked away.
'Such beauty, Elizabeth, such beauty you haven given me,'