A/N: Ok, this isn't exactly a oneshot, but I don't know where to go after this. If you have any ideas, or are interested in perhaps co-writing this story, let me now.
I own nothing, 'cept the plot... Hence the whole "FAN fiction" thing...
If you either like or hate it please review, as I need constructive criticism.
It was midday, and a peaceful light shone through the rafters of the blacksmith's shop. That very light illuminated the face of William Turner, who was surveying his work of a sword, making sure that it was as close to perfect as a sword could get. He did this with every sword, no matter the future owner. He didn't know exactly where this work ethic came from. He liked to believe it was his father's. Will remembered somberly the day he had said goodbye to his father. Jack's stabbing of the heart of Davy Jones had freed his father, but being no longer immortal or preserved as on of Jones' crew he had nothing to keep him from death. Will had but a few moments with his father to say goodbye before he died. His father had been content to go, with the exception of the time had lost with Will.
Will shook his head, shaking away the thoughts as he stood and set the sword carefully on a table to cool. He strode across to a part of the shop that held the materials necessary to make a sword. He was about to reach for a new set of materials when there was a knock at the door. As Will went to open it he rushed through his mind the swords he had, and which ones he would have done within the week. Will had just stepped in front of the doors. His eyes flicked startlingly across the men in front of him. Naval men.
"By the order of Commodore Norrington, who is under the jurisdiction and power of the King of England, you- William Turner- are required to compensate for your wrongful actions in the past in Port Royals time of need." Spoke one man, who was some sort of higher rank.
Will remained silent for a moment. "I... I cannot. I am to be married shortly... To Miss Elizabeth Swann. The Commodore knows this." And then it hit him- the Commodore did know of this. Whatever he had to do would separate him and Elizabeth. "No. I will not yield!" He said angrily.
"Then we have no choice, Mr. Turner." The man replied, apathetically. "Irons."
Four men surrounded him reaching for his wrists. Will tore away, and then there were two more shoving him against the door behind him. He struggled against them, but within moments the shackles were on his wrists and locked. They began pulling him out into the street, but Will continued to struggle. Eyes stared at Will, all wondering what he had done. Most thought of him as a levelheaded man, not a criminal. In his anger, Will continued to struggle, but came to his senses after a few minutes. This would do him nothing. Instead, Will put on a firm, but furious face.
Soon he was in a cell, sitting against the cold stone, tuning out the pleas of the other prisoners, reaching for the dog with the keys. It was all Norrington's doings. Greedy Bas. Will sighed, and thought of Elizabeth. She probably had no idea. It wouldn't be long before she found out though, and he could only hope that then she didn't try anything. He would find his own way out of this... He hoped. A door creaked somewhere, and soon there was the sound of boots against steps, and in a moment Norrington stood in front of him. It took all will had to not stand up and begin yelling. Instead, he remained sitting against the wall farthest from Norrington, as if the space he kept between them was some sort of insult.
"Mr. Turner... I'm sorry for the..." He gestured towards the cell, "circumstances. I wasn't planning on it, but I'm afraid your actions have called for this." He said all of this sounding dryly pleased with the very thing he apologized for.
"I believe my actions were justified, Commodore, considering the circumstances." Will replied in a voice that could be compared with acid.
"I'm sure I have no idea what circumstances you speak of, however I...," He was cut off by Will.
"Like hell you don't!" Will yelled.
"Mr. Turner, I would appreciate your recognition of my superiority and power, as currently your life is in my hands." He replied, still dryly pleased. "Now, perhaps I can explain why you are here. You see, Port Royal has been involved in a number of situations lately that call for naval intervention. Due to the frequency and intensity of such... situations, we find ourselves in need of men. You are young and perfectly capable to serve aboard a ship, and are in debt to Port Royal for granting you clemency. In fact, I can think of no more perfect man to serve. You will comply, Turner." He finished the last sentence losing the coolness and replacing it with a harsh tone of command. "You will comply."
With this Norrington turned around briskly, and took the stairs back up into the light of day.