...And a Bottle of Rum (the story behind the RPG behind the story)
I see that look on your face- another story about bloody pirates. If you liked my RPG-turned-story, then you'll like the story behind the RPG behind the story. Confusing? Yes. Interesting? I should hope so. Review-worthy? You decide. Here in my hands (or at least in my internet folder), I hold the single most bizarre potential arc fic imaginable.
First and foremost, I'd like to thank the co-creator of the RPG, HeeroDuo4eva, I know she's had 'A Merry Little Christmas' (*laughs*). I'd also like to thank RavenCrow16, the very first reviewer of the RPG-gone-story verison of And a Bottle of Rum. Hope you 'bloody love' this one too!!!
Here we go- this story is purely fiction, but so is Pirates of the Caribbean.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except those I invented, blah blah blah, yada yada etc. etc. so on and so forth.
Author's Note: This kind of fic has been used in many different topics, from LOTR to the Matrix to X-Men, with many different authors. I, like all other authors, never owned or created this type of fanfic writing. I only say this because several writers on other sites have been sent angry reviews for this reason (which isn't really a good reason at all).
Now, on with the fanfic! Enjoy!
PS: I will be making a sequel (to a prequel? Strange, but it works), And Another Bottle of Rum, after mid-terms (damned high school... well I guess this can be considered history...^_^), and the play, which I am exceedingly busy with (February 28th is the last day).
Chapter One- Sunday Clothes
She awoke early on that glorious Sunday morning to the cry of seagulls and the salty air of the Mediterranean sea. Her eyes opened slowly, not yet accustomed to the light shining in the window. "Ugh...last day of freedom before school..." she muttered sleepily, closing her eyes again. She suddenly realized a slight change in her surroundings, eyes flung open once again. She let out a strangled cry as she sat up suddenly in bed.
"Where the hell...?" As she let her feet hit the floor, she slid out of bed to view her surroundings. Where was her bedroom? This was not her bedroom. The walls were crimson with gold roses, the hardwood floor was bare save the oriental rug by her bed. Everything was elaborate, from the bureau opposite the large plate glass window to the mirror hanging by the door.
She looked in the mirror slowly.
"Oh my god..." She was wearing a long flowing nightgown covered in silver and bright red designs, most likely imported from Spain. She finally looked up, to find two very peculiar things- her face had changed– aged, and she was quite a bit taller than she had been before. 'I'm older...I'm...taller...And I'm in the most wonderful bedroom in the entire world...This is either a very good dream or a very nasty trick...' she thought to herself.
"Oh my . . . AH! My voice! I'm English...or British...I'm European! What the bloody hell has happened to my voice?!"
"Francesca? Elizabeth? a voice shouted down the hall, "Time to prepare for the ceremony- your father's orders!" She held her breath as the hurried footsteps passed her room.
"Where am I...?" Francesca muttered to herself, "Oh no..." She looked out the window. The Dauntless and the Interceptor were docked at the port ...Port Royal. She was surrounded by her most favorite place, at her least favorite home. "Elizabeth...Oh no...Elizabeth Swann."
"Elizabeth? Are you alright? Are you decent?" It was the Governor.
Francesca now realized it- she was related to Elizabeth, most likely her–
"Where is my sister?" Elizabeth asked the maid from her room down the hall, "Still dressing for the ceremony?"
Francesca turned from the mirror to her bureau. There, inside, hung the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in her entire life. She quickly dressed, walking to the door. She quickly glanced at her face in the mirror one last time. Still freckled, as it always had been, and her silver medallion remained on a black chord around her neck, just as it had been the day before. She smiled, walking out of the door to greet Elizabeth.
"Francesca! Where have you been? Late to wake again?" said Elizabeth with a cross look on her face.
"I've been the same place you have been," she replied simply.
"Listen- I will not have you going after Will today, or even speaking of him at all. Have I made myself clear?"
Francesca grinned and said, "Of course I won't, Elizabeth- that would be your job."
"COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE WRETCH!"
She stopped dead on the stairs. "Why would you even be upset? The Commodore is likely to propose any day now."
Elizabeth approached her, "You will NOT speak to Mr. Turner any time from now until your 18th birthday celebration this Wednesday."
"Whatever you say, Mrs. Norrington..." Francesca laughed, "I should hope not to have to meet someone so dry when I am to marry."
The ceremony was very drawn out and tiring, and standing for hours with the sun beating down on a dress and several layers was the worst thing possible at the moment. Elizabeth was worse off, wearing a very tight corset and a few more layers of clothing than herself. Francesca soon noticed someone she had not before.
"Victoria!!!" Francesca said in a loud whisper as the ceremony ended. "Victoria! It's me- Francesca!"
Victoria looked over at her, smiling in disbelief, "Francesca! It's you!!! What the hell are you–"
"Shhhh!!! I don't know- but it's strange. Your voice changed too? And you're older!!!"
"I know! We're so bloody British it's killing me!" Victoria whispered, "And if they don't stop calling me by my full name I swear I'm going to strangle Mr. Gibbs."
"You're Victoria Gibbs? His daughter?"
"Yeah, who are you? Oh no!" she laughed, "You're Francesca Swann!"
"That I am," Francesca groaned, "And I honestly don't know what Will sees in her. He's been giving her googly eyes all morning."
Victoria stopped laughing and stared at Francesca. "You've seen Will?"
Francesca nodded. "Why?"
"He's the hottest gent on earth, that's bloody why!" she yelled.
The entire party turned to stare at her. She shrugged, grinning sheepishly. After a few moments, they turned away and resumed their talking.
"Fucking British people. And I'm bloody one of them..." said Victoria.
"I know what you mean. And watch your language- whether you're in Britain or otherwise. Alright?"
"No, not alright! And any fop here who tells me otherwise can sod off."
"Well if you're so adamant about it..." Francesca laughed, "Enjoy yourself. We're three thousand miles away from our parents, and–"
"Victoria!" Mr. Gibbs called to her, "We'd best be going. I've got to run an errand in Tortuga for a couple o' days and I'll soon be leaving. You'll 'ave to stay here."
"Good luck, Vic." she said.
"Same to you," Victoria grinned, following Mr. Gibbs.
