Fine China
Author's Note: Hello again! I came up with this idea while I was reading Harry Potter. I know, I'm a bit confused. Ummm... Yeah.
Summary: What if Elizabeth had not been captured by the crew of the Black Pearl? What would have happened? Would fate had unraveled to reveal the same coarse? ES/JS, and maybe some ES/JN. Will and Anna Maria.
Elizabeth fingered the finely wrought spoon of hard, cold silver. Its design was wild and free, extending around the handle and weaving through itself. A small bird flew gracefully through the vines, across the setting sun and over the sea. She stroked the smooth metal of the bird with her thumb, remembering.
Why would she not remember? It had been the best day of her life! She was proposed to, she had even been rescued by an extremely handsome pirate... a pirate whose name she would never forget...
"Well, well, well Jack Sparrow, isn't it?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please sir."
"I don't see your ship, Captain."
"I'm in the market, as it were."
She remembered it so clearly, like watching it through a glossy windowpane... it was hard to believe it wasn't only a few hours ago, but a year? No, it could not be possible, and yet the calendar said it was... Captain Jack was still sitting in his cell after being sprung by Will a week afterward and recaptured no more than two days before the present. Will had left her to be on the sea again, something he had always yearned to do. Will had returned after his adventure about 5 months before, and seemed to have completely forgot about her: instead there was a beautiful, slightly dark skinned girl named Ana Maria, who he had met as an acquaintance of Jack Sparrow's. So much had passed since then.
Including her own wedding. After Will had left "gallivanting after pirates" and her father had put it, she had no choice but to accept the Commodore's proposal. Her corset had reduced her waist to almost fifteen inches by then, neat and tidy and graceful (and painful) enough for a lady, a fine woman. Her father had also retired to his London estate for the year, and she had been left here in Port Royal with the man with the least emotion. Whenever she expressed her own emotion about his lack there of, he simply said "fine women do not show their emotions in public, and preferably not privately either, you shall dishonor yourself and I if you continue!" at which she would glare at him and retire for the night.
Secretly, however, she would read exciting books about adventure and romance, and pirates! Her favorite book to read was always Infamous Pyrates and Their Nature, most of the entire chapter on the modern pirates of the world. Two entire pages were devoted to Captain Jack Sparrow:
"He is said to have once been captain of the legendary ship The Black Pearl, notorious for it's crews unforgiving nature and brutal treatment of prisoners and adversaries. He was, however, marooned on a small island where he supposedly escaped using only sea turtles and his own hair. Some of his other famous adventures are that he sacked Nassau Port without using any shot, and possibly (if you believe such things) had encounters with the fearsome Davy Jones and his crew and boarded the Flying Dutchman. Said to be the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea, he holds one of the 'Nine Pieces of Eight'. His mutinous first mate is the Lord of the Caspian Sea, and has been such for some time.
Following this paragraph was a pair of sketches, worn and faded, of his face and the Black Pearl. The face looked nothing like him at all, with not charisma (he had this morbid, sullen look, like he had died peacefully, but still brutally in a away) and his hair was sorter, with no dreadlocks and very few trinkets. The only similarity between the Captain who had rescued her and the dead-looking pirate in the picture was his naturally handsome features. The Black Pearl seemed to be surrounded by a thin fog, just as she had glimpsed it in her youth, and ragged, black sails, supposedly being pushed along by a supernatural wind.
All of his known family members have also been branded, but have died either by the hangman's noose or in their line of lawlessness. Captain Teague (last name unknown) is said to be his father, and holds the key to the Pyrate Codex, held in an unknown place. His mother is unknown, but is said to be the infamous Anne Bonny, who is said to have escaped execution for a time by telling the officials she was pregnant. She was later (not but a month before her due) was ransomed by her father, a wealthy plantation owner. Though it is unknown if he has siblings or any other close relationship of blood, he is feared completely for his own reputation.
This man is easy to recognize due to his long dark dreadlocks, kohl lined eyes, filthy appearance, and his brand and tattoo of a sparrow flying over the sea (this symbols freedom). If you are to come across said pirate, be cautious and aware of his nature and demeanor, and report his immediately to officials.
A rather large list of the crimes committed by this 'dangerous fugitive' lie below this official-looking ending. Pilfering, plundering, and impersonating a clergy of England... all seem like grand and dangerous adventures... something she had been craving for a long time now. She snapped the book closed as the door to the study creaked open, and her husband's head popped in. James was so sweet and good-natured, never wanting to hurt anyone, but willing to do so for his job. She admired her husband, loved him like a brother, but he was always so formal. He smiled stiffly down at her, in her favorite cozy chair by the window overlooking the sea.
"May I join you for tea?" Dead silence followed. All to be heard was the gentle tones of the clock in the corner and birds twittered outside as the sun peaked out from behind a cloud. Nodding, she patted the seat beside her. He nodded in return, instead drawing a seat across from her and waving the maid over to pour his cup. Elizabeth grimaced down at her now chill tea, pushing it away and opening a book of poetry sitting beside her to her marked page.
Flowers whisper to the breeze,
breathing their gentle song.
Dancing in a sudden gust,
rooted there daylong.
The wind says to the flower,
chant your song light,
speak no more
of your delicate petals bright.
Yawning softly, she closed the book quietly and turned her head to gaze out the window. Every poem a woman reads must have meaning, so she does not cross God like Eve. Be quiet, delicate, stay were you are, vanity is a sin and should not be practiced. The main points drown all other meaning: be good, don't have fun!
She focused her eyes on the horizon.
Black flags.
