First a little disclaimer: I own none of this stuff. I hold no rights to any of the characters, or anything mentioned in this fanfic. I'm just using the genius of others and bending it to amuse myself and others. I hope you enjoy the story. =)
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"And that, my dear, is the tale of William Turner and Elizabeth Swann."
The young girl stared in slack jawed wonder at her grandmother, who had just finished telling her the most amazing story. A story of pirates and treasure; of big battles at sea between the ruthless East India Trading Company and the Brethren court of pirates; of cursed creatures from the depths of the sea and men enslaved by the promise of life eternal and the fear of death. And a tale of love; the kind you only hear about once in a lifetime. True and pure.
"Did they ever see each other again, gran? William and Elizabeth?" The girl's question was so innocent and heartfelt that her grandmother chuckled.
"Yes, my dear." She replied kindly. "They saw each other for 1 day, every 10 years."
"That isn't very much." The girl frowned. "How can they be in love if they only see each other so rarely?"
"The heart is very powerful, Rosalie." The old woman cupped the girl's chin as she smiled at her. "You don't need to see the person you love every day to remember them. Even if such a long time passes that you can no longer see them in your mind's eye, your heart still swells at the mere thought of them. Your heart never forgets."
"And they never forgot one another?" The girl whispered, her big brown eyes alight with wonder.
"Never." Her grandmother whispered.
"But what did Elizabeth do after William had to return to the sea?"
"Well, Elizabeth was the king of the Brethren court of pirates. She had a big job ahead of her."
"Did she manage to unite them all under one flag?" The old woman chortled at the girl's renewed enthusiasm.
"Now now. That is a tale for another time. It is time for young girls to go to bed."
"But gran…?!" the young girl whined.
"Rosalie!" Came a brisk female voice from the door to the cabin, making the girl jump and whirl around to face the door. In the doorway stood a young woman, dressed in the finest silk gown to be found in London. "Why are you still up?! You should have been in bed hours ago!"
"But mother, I…" The girl tried, only for the woman to cut her off.
"I will hear no excuses, Rosalie!"
"Emily, please." The old woman interrupted, "If anyone is to blame it is I. She asked for a story before bed and I obliged her." This did not seem to please the young woman at all.
"Are you still filling her head with fairytales?!" She hissed, her dark eyes blazing. "How many times have I told you not to?!"
"She is a child, Emily. And children should be allowed to be children."
"She has been accepted into the Everhearst Royal Academy for young women! She has the potential to make something of her life!"
"Rosalie, dear." The old woman got up from her chair and held a hand out to the girl. "Why don't you go to bed now."
"But gran, I'm n—"
"How many times have I instructed you in the proper way to address your grandmother?!" The girl's mother snapped briskly. The girl winced and drew back from her mother.
"Emily!" The old woman snapped in a tone that belied her years, holding up a hand to forestall any further outbursts from the woman. "She is my granddaughter; and granddaughters always have a right to call their grans by whatever endearing name they choose." Emily bristled, but held her tongue. "Now, Rosalie?" The old woman turned back to her granddaughter, "Why don't you be a good girl and head off to bed now. It is very late and your gran is a tired old woman after all."
"Will you tell me another story tomorrow?" The child looked up at her grandmother beseechingly. The old woman's smile faltered for a moment as she gazed back into the girl's eyes. It was as if something had gone through her mind that hindered her in giving the girl a straight answer.
"We shall see." She said finally, her kind smile returning as she ran a gentle hand along the girl's cheek. "Now, give your gran a hug." The girl embraced her grandmother and the old woman kissed her on the top of her head as she held her tight. "Keep her safe." The old woman's whisper, almost sounding like a prayer, was barely audible.
"You shouldn't encourage her like that, mother!" Emily's voice, though hard, was low; just barely above a whisper. She had closed the door after Rosalie had left her grandmother's cabin, heading for her bed in the company of her nanny.
The old woman watched her daughter for a moment. "And why not?" She finally said. "She is interested in the tales I have to tell."
"She is a child!" Emily snapped. "I will not let you fill her head with nonsense!"
"Nonsense?!" The old woman guffawed. "Just because you chose to ignore my stories, dismissing them as fairytales, does not--!"
"That is all they are!" Emily snapped back, cutting her mother's words short. "Ridiculous tales of pirates and sea monsters! Filling her head with fantasy! I won't have it; do you hear me?!"
The old woman gazed at her daughter in silence. "You used to enjoy those same stories." She said quietly after a while. "When you were younger." Emily stiffened, obviously unnerved by the reminder. "You would ask me to tell them to you again and again. 'Tell me the tale of Jack Sparrow, mother', you would say, 'And the Black Pearl'. You would beg me to tell them to you; even though you'd heard them countless times before."
"I have wizened up since then!" Emily said briskly. "Fairytales are for children!"
"And Rosalie is not a child?"
"She is on the verge of becoming a young woman! I will not have you drag her back down into naiveté at this crucial time!"
The old woman turned toward the bed and picked up a shawl that was draped across the covers. "Everyone should be allowed to dream, Emily." She said quietly as she pulled the shawl around her shoulders. She turned to face her daughter, studying her face. "When did you stop dreaming?"
The young woman's eyes shone brightly in the light from the lanterns hanging from the ceiling; hanging perfectly still. The sea was too calm. The ship was dead still in the water. "When you refused to tell me the truth about my father!" Her voice was brittle.
"I did tell you the truth about him, Emily." The old woman's words made the young woman scoff and turn toward the door. Emily grabbed the doorknob and turned… but then hesitated.
"Was he taken by the sea?" Her voice was barely a whisper and her tone was weak; fragile. "Is that the reason you spend so much time sailing from port to port?" The old woman watched her daughter's back, her heart aching in her chest. "Is it that you hope that someday you might look across the bow and see him?"
"Emily…"
"For once, could you please just tell me the truth!" Her hard tone had returned, though it was laced with brittle sorrow. "Was he taken by the sea?"
"No." The old woman whispered. "He is the sea." Another scoff from Emily answered these words.
"Goodnight, mother!" She drawled as she flung the door to the cabin open and stormed out, leaving the old woman alone with her thoughts.