** Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates Of the Caribbean. It's all Disney's! **

Decision Is A Risk Rooted In The Courage Of Being Free

by

Vingamania

"Just because everything is different doesn't mean anything has changed."

Irene Peter

Prologue

Hoarse from crying, Elizabeth swore when her foot got caught in a plant, making it impossible for her to move until she got it freed. Looking at her fine, pink slipper, made her think about the man who'd given it to her; a shadowy figure in her memory, one of many who'd tried to court her since she turned 15.

Tears streamed down her face, as she climbed higher up the uneven cliff wall, struggling to hold herself up, as a new, hard gust of wind threatened to throw her in the cold water more than 90 feet under her. Determined she continued climbing, even when she missed a cliff shelf, and was momentarily overwhelmed by the fear of falling.

After what seemed like hours, she finally reached the top, and let out a loud sigh of relief. Ignoring how her hands were torn to pieces, bleeding because of the unaccustomed hard labour. She got to her feet, walking while fighting against the salty wind blowing in from the grand ocean in front of her. The distinct smell of sea; seaweed and fish hung in the air.

The sparse vegetation was leaning away from the wind, as if trying to protect the small flowers beneath. She continued walking until she reached the very end of the cliff, only a few feet from the enormous deep. Taunting. Tempting her.

Her chins were stinging were the cold storm hit her wet tears. She sobbed and swiftly wiped them away.

Glancing at the horizon, she wondered if life would be like this always. A couple of years ago this would've seamed pleasant. But now the mere thought of another rich boy and his horrible mother made her gag. An endless parade of parties, fake smiles and venomous words hit behind courteous compliments.

Surely that couldn't be all. Could it?

If that was the case, then she wouldn't survive another day, even with the love of her dear father. And why was she, seemingly, the only one who felt suffocated by it?

The rough wind tore at Elizabeth's long dress, slamming it against her, making a hollow ominous sound. Almost like the grand bells in the Holy Church not far away, in her hometown.

"Why?" She whispered to no one.

Why shouldn't she jump?

Trying herself, she stepped carefully closer to the edge. Now all she had to do was to take one step, one, and she'd never have to attend a singe party again, dancing 'till it felt like she walked with stones instead of feet. She'd never have to smile sweetly at men twice her age, laying their dirty old hands on her arms and waist.

Silently she stared at the foaming water masses thrashing against the tall moss-grown stones, in the sea beneath her. It was beautiful, really. A mass off gray and blue, only illuminated by the garish sunlight, shining through the darkness like a sword, cutting through a curtain shielding a dark room from the light.

All of a sudden a song came to her mind. A song from a memory, which seamed so far away, but still, was crystal clear in her mind. The voice in her memory was nothing like the gentlemen's she talked with every day. It was roughened by weather and drinking, belonging to a man more dirty than their loo. An outcast, a thief, an outlaw, a sailor. A pirate.

With her fragile voice barely audible through the roaring wind, she began to sing.

"Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colours high.

Heave, ho, Thief and beggars, never shall we die.

The king and his men stole the queen from her bed and bound her in her Bones.

The seas be ours and by the powers where we will, we'll roam.

Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colours high.

Heave, ho, Thief and beggars, never shall we die."

"Well, that was very pretty sung luv!" A man exclaimed from right behind her.

ATHOUR NOTE

Weeeeell, and here you go. My very first fic! :D

I would love any kind of feedback, but especially some constructive criticism! For example; how did I characterize Elizabeth (too OC or…)? Is the story too confusing? Do tell!

And thanx for reading. Until next, Vinga.