A/N: Well, new fic up. And the first chapter is a long one. I can't promise that will keep up, but I will do my best. Um... this fic is the life story of Anamaria, and will span about 20 years, ending about at the end of the movie, maybe a little later.

Just a note, Ragetti is the guy with the wooden eye in the movie, and Pintel is his half-bald headed friend, they were kinda hard to catch in the movie itself. Jack will be in this, don't worry. Um... people will seem slightly out of character, but this is merely because it takes place 20 years before the movie. Most of them are still in their mid to late teens, and the whole curse deal isn't around yet, so their gonna be a bit different then in the film. Please review. Any type of feedback is welcome.

Many thanks to Hollie and PinkPineapple for help with this.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the weak excuse for a plot.

I had a strange life growing up, I'll be the first one to admit that. A very strange life. I didn't have many friends, but it wasn't because I was unlikable or an outcast, but because most parents didn't want their children hanging around with 'that Thomson girl.' Really, they had good reason not to want their little ones around me now that I think of it. Who knows what they had heard? Rumors are always worse then the truth you know.

Let me go back aways; when I was eight or nine, I had one close friend -his name was Oliver I think, or something like that. But anyway thats beside the point. When we were eight or nine, I made him tell me everything he knew about my family. I was curious as to exactly what others thought. He hadn't wanted to say anything, but after rubbing his nose in a mud puddle till he couldn't breath (mother must be rolling in her grave to know I did something like that) he had relented and told me. Most all of he said was true of course, but when he got to the parts of the story others weren't supposed to know, I put on the shocked face I had so perfected and told him it was all a horrible lie.

You see, I should go back farther and explain. I grew up with my mum in the outskirts of Port Royal. My mother had always been very different from myself. She was raised in England as the only child of a middle class family. Upon the death of her parents, she -being sixteen at the time- sought employment as a governess to a family of nobility. The only relations she had left were rumored to have traveled to Jamaica to start a new life, and through this job she was able to save enough to pay her fare across the sea to find them. It is also my personal belief that this job is what instilled the strict rules of etiquette in her that I have so hated all my life. When she was twenty one though, she finally managed to set out on this journey to 'the new world' so to speak, only to discover that the relations she sought were long dead.

My father's history I know little about. Only what I've heard from mothers stories, and to tell you the truth, I think she herself knew very little about him. I do however know that he was born in Africa. Where exactly- I don't know, but thats beside the point. Anyway, when he was also in his mid twenties, he set out on a voyage of his own, though perhaps slightly less willingly then mother did. In fact, it wasn't willingly at all, considering he was captured by a slave ship that was importing slaves to said new world. Here my stories rather sketchy, but I know that somehow, a revolt was led and the 'slaves' took control of the ship, guiding it into port somewhere in Jamaica. Mother told me the city she thought it was in once, but I don't recall the name, just that she said it was a 'heathen town.' From here, father took up petty jobs until he had enough to money to establish a ship and a crew to man it, before setting out on the twisted path of piracy.

I'm not exactly sure how my mothers and fathers paths crossed, all I know is that they did. Mother would never talk about that part of the story you see. She would always blush and promise to tell me when I was older. Sometimes I like to try and think about what it must have been like. To think they were caught up in a whirlwind romance, disapproved of by all but engaged to be married anyway, when fathers passion for the sea interfered and he realized he couldn't live this fraudulent life of civilized society any further and in a fit of emotion threw himself off a cliff to leave mother alone and with child. Then I realize that that wasn't what had happened at all. And that my father isn't dead.

No no, that wasn't what happened at all. As I said, I don't know exactly what happened, all I know is that for some time their paths in life crossed and I was born. Whether or not they were actually in love I'll never know. Mother certainly didn't seem to miss him too much, but then again, she didn't show much emotion about anything. And father didn't exactly stick around either. He carried on his life of piracy and I only saw him a handful of times in my childhood; and even then only during the brief times his ship was in harbor. He sent us money often though and we managed to stay fairly well off. So well off in fact, that people began to wonder how a seemingly poor single woman who worked as a seamstress for the governor could always keep food on the table and clothes on her child without difficulty. Between this and the fact that father was never around, the people in the town began to assume he was a pirate. They were right of course, but that didn't mean it wasn't rude of them to assume.

The fact that people began to think that he was a pirate however, led to our small family being surrounded by quite a bit of scandal. Well, that and one important factor that I've left out. I would have assumed it could be guessed by now though. As I've already explained, mother was an English woman, and therefore white, and I'm... well- not.

Lets just say that interracial unions are rather frowned upon in polite society. While no one ever came right out and said it, I knew from a very young age that I would amount to very little in life if I remained around here. Our class didn't help much. If I was lucky, I might be able to pick up a position as a cook or something. (I never could cook though, so I guess that throws that plan right out the window.) This simple fact however did not dissuade mother. God rest her soul. She insisted to carry on her little charade, and that I be raised like a proper young lady straight from London and destined to marry nobility. I was forced into a stuffy and unwanted childhood of nice dresses and corsets, learning skills such as reading and writing and sewing in my spare time.

Our lives together ran a consistent course just like this until eight months ago. Eighth months ago, my mother died of something the doctors called 'ague,' and I was left to fend for myself. I, being fifteen, was old enough to survive on my own with the money she left behind, and for a short time even picked up her old sewing job. I came to realize quickly however, that I hated that life. Without mother around, whom others had seemed to at least respect if not fear, all the barriers came down and people felt no remorse in showing their hatred for 'my kind.' It didn't take long for me to sit down and make a decision. After thinking long and hard, I sent word to my fathers ship, The Validus and told him what had happened.

And this is where my story begins, three weeks before my sixteenth birthday, as I stood upon the docks, watching for the white sails of my fathers ship to come into sight.

It was a windy day, and the long dark hair that hung down my back was being tossed in the wind. While I had worn a nice dress, I had been sure to pick one that didn't need a corset and was comfortable to move around in. I also disregarded all things my dear mother would have wished, and opted to go without shoes this morning, as well as allowing my straw hat to blow back off of my head. As of now it remained hanging around my neck only by the ribbons that usually laced under my chin, and I disregarded the sun that was beating down on the brown skin of my nose.

After what seemed ages, but was probably only a half an hour or so, I caught sight of exactly what I was looking for. Just a distant shape on the horizon. After another quarter of an hour roughly, the great ship was approaching the harbor and I looked on with great fascination. It was large compared to the little fishing boats I saw commonly, but still small enough to be able to dock properly. It was really made for speed more then for living space.

A tall scrawny youth, maybe eighteen or so, leaped agilely onto the wooden dock as soon as they were close enough, and began to tie off long ropes with the help of several men who worked for the Dock master. A long board was laid out between the ship and the dock, and several more men filed off.

"Daddy!" I called, as I saw my father clamor off the ship. I recognized him from the small portrait hanging over the mantel in the living room. I ran to him, and he to me, and he scooped me up of the ground and spun me around like I was a small child. I didn't mind though.

"Oh, my dear Anamaria. You've become such a young woman." he set me down, a proud smile upon his face, and settled onto one knee in front of me. His voice was marked with a strong accent I recognizing immediately from his past visits, though I was still unable to place it. "How are you?"

"I'm well Father. Its so nice to see you again." I smiled and he stood up.

"Well, come then," he said, giving me one last hug, then carefully tugging his sleeve low over his wrist.

"Lets go pay the Dock master for a nights berth, and go and get your things. Ragetti! Come with me!" The young man that I had observed tying off the ship came bounding over eagerly.

"Ay-," he paused nervously, before speaking again in a cleaner tone. "Yes sir, Capitan!" He gave a clumsy salute, (it was obvious he wasn't quite sure how to do one.) and trailed after Father and I as we approached an elderly man holding a thick book.

The entire way, I could feel Ragetti's eyes trained uncomfortable upon my back. I wasn't used to being watched like this, but as I looked around, I noticed most of the men from the ship had identical looks of curiosity upon there faces. Even if I was uncomfortable though, I couldn't exactly blame them. I was after all the Captain's daughter. One which no one had ever seen before. It would take quite some time before I earned their trust and respect. If I ever earned it.

"A shilling and your name," The Dock master snapped, never looking up from his books. My father tossed a couple of coins onto the page.

"We're staying the night. Please be sure my men over there-" he paused and gestured grandly to several crew members still on board who were fighting to work a strange bar and rope structure that I would later learn was a capstan. At the time, they were busy securing a large crate and hoisting it onto the docks. Several more waited on the deck beside them. "Can find someplace to sell their wares. The names Thomson." As we walked away from the docks and in the direction of home, father seemed to notice my confused look and winked at me.

"We took them off the hands of some merchant ship in Tortuga. Wouldn't want to blow our cover now would we?" Father said softly, before glancing over his shoulder and shouting. "Ragetti! Come on, stop lagging behind!" I glanced behind me and noticed that the boy had indeed fallen behind about ten paces or so, and was staring intently at a primped and powdered girl who was walking in the opposite direction, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his breeches as he walked.

"My trunk is all packed," I said happily, making small talk as we entered the house. The small three room building had already been sold to a set of newlyweds who had recently come over from England, who were living with some family down the street for now, and weren't set to move in for another week or so. All of the furniture and my possessions had been sold also, except my one trunk.

"Thats it," I said, leading the two into the bedroom and pointing to the medium sized wooden chest that lay open in the middle of the room.

"What have you packed?" Father asked, glancing around the room to see if if I had left behind anything I would need. I prayed silently that he wouldn't look under the bed. That was were I had stashed my old corset.

"Three dresses, my hair brush, a pair of shoes, a couple of books and my writing things." I neglected to mention that while I had packed dresses, I had also packed several sets of breeches and a couple of over sized shirts. I didn't know exactly where my father stood on the rearing of teenage girls, but I eventually hoped I would be able to wheedle my way out of dresses all together.

After another moment or so of awkward silence, I pulled a worn silver chain from around my neck on which hung a small silver key, and used it to close the trunk and click the lock shut. I carefully replaced the chain around my neck and stood back. Ragetti, who until this point had been standing in the corner and looking around silently, walked over and picked up the trunk easily. I was surprised to see that he was so strong for someone in such a tall, awkward body.

"Load it onto the ship, boy. She'll be staying in the port side cabin in the bow beside mine." At the time none of this made sense to me, but apparently Ragetti understood fine, for when Father finished speaking he nodded briskly and set off ahead of us. As we left, I locked the front door for the final time, and slipped the key under a large stone by the door, where I had said I would leave it. I turned, noticed that Father and Ragetti were aways ahead of me, and then set off after them at a run. That was the last time I ever walked that path.

That night I ate with my father in his quarters as we had much to catch up on, but the next day I dined with the rest of the crew for the first time. When I had rolled out of bed that morning, I reveled in the smell of the salty sea air that hung about the ship. I had always loved the ocean, and even though I had lived near it I rarely had an opportunity to be so close to it. My cabin was really just a small room near Fathers, just big enough to hold a narrow cot and my trunk, and had a small circular window high on the wall. While it was difficult to see out of normally, if I balanced carefully atop my cot I had a marvelous view of the water. Something I never had back at home. I yawned widely, and stretched.

After a brief internal debate as to what to wear, I pulled on a fairly plain, green dress, and brushed and braided my hair. I then headed out to what Father had called 'the galley.' It felt that I would never get used to these nautical terms.

When I arrived in the galley, most of the crew had already assembled, and were sitting on either side of a long wooden table that ran the length of the room. Several sat on chairs, but even more perched on crates or upturned buckets. I noticed right away they were all men. Father sat at the head of the table, and I spotted an empty crate next to him. He smiled at me as I walked over and sat down.

"Morning Ana," he said, heaping some chunks of meat onto his plate and passing the serving dish on to me. Ana was to become my nickname over the next few years.

"Good morning Father," I accepted the dish and piled some on my plate too, before handing it off to Ragetti, who was sitting on the other side of me.

"Morning Ragetti," I said brightly. He looked truly surprised that I spoke to him, and nearly dropped the plate, but the young man of about 20, with long dark hair sitting beside him caught it exasperatedly.

"You act like no ones ever greeted ye' before, and yet you gawk at almost any girl over 15 that ye' see in town. You really think you can catch one when you can't even greet the captains daughter." The man looked very irritated, but Ragetti looked highly embarrassed.

"I do not gawk Pintel," he said softly, passing the plate and taking the one full of sliced fruit I handed him. "I was just startled, thats all." Pintel rolled his eyes before setting his cool gaze on me.

"What are you looking at lass?" he asked sharply. A light blush rose in my cheeks.

"Nothing. Nothing," I muttered, looking away. The food in front of me, looked delicious and as I began to eat, I reveled in the chance to eat as much as I wanted without getting reprimanded.

"This really is delicious Father."

"Aye, well don't get too used to it I'm afraid. Fresh food is hard to come by when your on the water for a long time you see. We always get as much as we can when we're in harbor though."

"Speakin of which when are we takin' off Cap'n?" A man with braided hair and a long scar down the side of his face questioned.

"As soon as we finish eatin' Evans. Do ye' ever pay attention?" Pintel snapped in reply.

"Yes, I do. And its a good thing we're leaving. I don't like this 'merchant gear.' This jacket be too tight'. I can't breath prop'ly." Evans fingered the polished button on a long brown jacket he was wearing.

Father gave him a light smile. "Just wait until we get a couple of miles offshore men, then you can put on whatever you want." I hastily wiped my mouth on one of the scraps of worn cloth that were used as napkins.

"Does that include me?" I inquired hesitantly.

"Note I said 'men'," Father replied, never looking up.

"But Father! I won't be of any use if I can't move!"

"And why can't you move? Besides, even if you could, your not going to help out on the ship anyway. I have a crew for that, and under no circumstances am I allowing my fifteen year old daughter to start doing that sort of work."

"I'm almost sixteen!" I replied indignantly. Father put a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

"Really? You certainly aren't acting like it." I frowned and looked down at my plate, carefully considering my strategy. After a moment of silence I continued my plea.

"It'll be almost impossible to move around deck in the shoes I have," I said softly. "And my dresses are horribly constricting." Father gave me an appraising look.

"You dresses are fine. But I'll see what I can do about some shoes." Ragetti spoke up.

"She can 'ave a pair of my old leather boots," he said quickly, looking up at us. I blushed slightly to think that someone had heard our conversation. It had seemed that everyone else was absorbed in their own talk. Father smiled.

"There you go. After we set off, go to Ragetti's cabin and he can give you some different shoes, and then I expect to hear no more complaining, is that clear?"

"Alright," I said smiling. "Thank you Ragetti."

And that was why, three hours later I was to be found knocking hesitantly on the door to the crews cabin. A moment passed, before I heard Ragetti's voice echo out, telling me to come in a minute. I pushed gently on the thin door, and it swung open, allowing me to step into the room.

Inside, it was fairly large in comparison to the rest of the rooms on board. Judging just from what I could see, I would guess it ran the length of a good part of the ship and would be of a decent width if it weren't for the wooden bunks that ran each side of the room, stacked two high. Only a passage wide enough for two or three persons to pass each other remained down the center. The top bunks were lined with scrapes of wood on all sides about six inches high, with only a small space at either end left open so it could be accessed. I could only assume this was to prevent one from rolling right off when in rough seas.

A lanky form sat cross legged on the bottom bunk of the bed to my left, a large box laid out in from of him.

"Hello," he said, never looking up. "Just give me a second and I'll get those boots for you, all right?" I nodded, and plopped down on the bed beside him. I looked closely at the box he was rummaging through, and I noticed it held the pair of breeches and clean white shirt that he had been wearing the previous day and this morning, what I guessed according to Evans was his 'merchant gear.' Now, upon closer inspection, I noticed he had indeed changed, and was wearing a longer, tougher looking pair of pants, thick leather boots, and a faded red shirt rolled up to the elbows. I also noticed that he had small gold rings in each of his ears that I was almost certain hadn't been there before.

"Here it is," he muttered under his breath, pulling an uneven looking bone needle and some short pieces of thread out. "Got a rip in my shirt you see," he said, rolling down one of the sleeves and pointing out a tear along the seam. "Never been very good at fixin things like this, but I figured I'd give it a go," he smiled slightly.

"Let me see," I muttered, pulling his arm over closer to me and carefully examining the area. "I can fix that for you," I said, looking up. "I brought thread, and a better needle then what you have there. It will only take me a moment or two."

"Really?" he said, giving me a quirky smile. "Thats great. Thanks." I shrugged, and watched as he carefully rolled the sleeve back up again. It was then that I noticed for the first time the small 'P' burned into the flesh just about his right wrist. He seemed to notice my gaze and quickly shifted the way he was sitting so it was no longer visible.

"The mark of a pirate," he said softly, looking away. "We all 'ave it." I nodded. I had known about the pirate brand before as I had heard about it often back in town, but I had never actually seen one. When I saw it now, I was suddenly struck with how much my mother would have hated the situation I was in. I was also struck with how absurd it was. Here I was, on a pirate ship, sitting in the cabin of a boy at least three or four years older then myself, unsupervised, and holding a perfectly normal conversation about mending.

It also sunk in to me for the first time the realization of that statement. The boy sitting across from me was indeed a pirate. A living breathing pirate, and one that could probably kill me in a second if he got it in his mind too.

"What the 'ell is she doing in 'ere? And on my bed too?" I jumped, snapping out of my revere, and noticed Ragetti do the same. Pintel was standing in front of us, his large form blocking the doorway. The term 'she' was spat like a curse. I jumped up quickly, and folded my hands behind my back. On second thought, I unfolded them. I didn't know why, but for some reason I wanted both hands free. Ragetti stood up slowly.

"I was just givin her a pair of my old boots," he said, pulling a worn pair from under the bed and handing them too me. "Captain's orders," he added. "And Pintel, you really shouldn't be cursin' around the captains daughter." Pintel shot me a sour look.

"I'm a bloody pirate, and I'll curse if I want too. Just cause she's the capt'n's daughter doesn't mean she's any different from the rest of us."

"She's young," Ragetti protested softly, speaking as if I wasn't in the room. "And she's a lady, just give her a chance." I frowned up at him.

"Excuse me, but I'm still here, and I don't want special treatment because of my Father. Besides, I'm not young. I'm almost sixteen. Thats not young!" Ragetti shot me an exasperated look.

"What ever you say Miss-"

"My name is Anamaria," I interrupted loudly.

"Anamaria," he finished. "But I need to go up on deck. I have me work to do." He gave both of us a weak smile, before leaving, the door slamming shut behind him. I cast a long look at the door, then back at Pintel who was glaring coldly at me, before exiting the room as quickly as I could. I really didn't like that man.

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please review! They keep me going. Like I said, any comments at all are welcome.