The warm and humid area of Port Royal is home to a rather shadowy subculture. A wide range of talented bands, well known to the citizens (and the police force), compete annually for the Cortez Cup, in a massive contest known as the Cortez Week on Isle De Mureta. Dozens of bands enter. Only one leaves with the glory that a giant golden trophy can bring to a person.
The bands come from all over. Great Britain, America, Canada, the Middle East, Australia. The world is a musical oyster. Port Royal must house all of these bands, so the economy is always steady. Commercialism is a popular business.
One family in particular has benefitted immensely from Cortez Week: the Swann family, famously known for their posh Victorian hotel chain; Swann Hotels.
Following the tragic death of his wife, Weatherby Swann, the head and founder of the Swann Hotel Company, had since been extremely protective of his young daughter, Elizabeth. Though as she grew into her teenage years, she became more and more drawn into the world of music.
This is where our story begins.
"Elizabeth, are you up yet?" Came the cheerful voice of her father.
Elizabeth groaned, rolling over in her soft feather quilts. She had been having the most wonderful dream.
"No, Dad." She called, her voice muffled by a pillow.
"May I come in?"
Elizabeth sighed wearily. "I guess."
The door opened, and Weatherby Swann walked in, beaming, and holding a steaming mug filled with what was probably a deluxe cappuccino.
"It's a big day today!" He said, setting down the hot drink onto his daughters bedside table, and yanked open the blinds to beautiful, tropical, midday sunlight. Elizabeth scowled and shielded her burning eyes. She had a wicked hangover. Her father didn't know, however.
"What's happening? I was planning to sleep all day." Elizabeth grumped.
"You really forgot?" Her father said, politely astonished. "Goodness, Elizabeth, I thought you youngsters could record all upcoming events in those phones; those e-Whatsits."
"I want to sleep," Elizabeth said.
"Well, you can't." He put it matter-of-factly. "Besides," he added, "I have a gift for you."
Elizabeth peeked out from behind her pillow. "What is it?"
Her father only smiled, and, as if on cue, a maid walked in with a small parcel. Elizabeth timidly sat up, adjusted her flowing white nightgown, and took the present out of the hands of the timely maid, Estrella. She opened it and gasped.
"The new Black Pearl album!" She squealed, jumping up to give her father a hug, the album clutched lovingly in her hand.
"What's the occasion?" She asked, examining the totally rad cover art.
"I was rather hoping we could play it at James's party tonight. He just received a promotion at the station," Mr. Swann added with a wink.
"James Norrington? From the police station?" Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow. "So that would make him ... "
" ... Commissioner," he finished for her. "Yes, James Norrington. His co-workers are throwing a little shindig for him tonight. He invited us."
"I didn't know James liked ... This kind of music." She waved the Black Pearl album in the air.
"Well, I thought we could switch it up a bit, as the youngsters say. It's going to be a relatively large party. I told you this last weekend!"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Dad, I can't remember everything that's going on in your social life."
"Don't give me that attitude, young lady." He scolded, ushering poor Estrella out of the room. "And it's your social life as well. And, I expect you to dress properly tonight; none of your outrageous punk outfits. This is a formal gathering." And with that, he left his daughter to herself, shutting the door loudly behind him.
Elizabeth sighed with lament.
"First he buys me the new album from Black Pearl, which is, like, the biggest punk rock album ever, and then he tells me to dress like the Queen while listening to it," she mused in frustration to herself, wandering over to her massive walk-in closet. "I mean, I'm freaking seventeen now. I'll be off to college in a few months." She wheeled, angrily seizing a peach blouse from a rack. "And that's another thing!" She hissed. "What if I don't want to go to college? What if I want to ..." She lowered her voice. "... Start a band ...?"
William Turner loitered awkwardly in the massive foyer belonging to the Swann Mansion. He peered at his watch; surely Mr. Swann would have come to meet him by now. He'd sent the butler to fetch him about 20 minutes ago, and Mr. Swann was nothing ever if not punctual.
"Ah! Mr. Turner!"
Will turned, and saw Mr. Swann making his way swiftly down his huge staircase to come meet him.
"Mr. Swann," Will smiled cordially when his client had reached him. "I have your order. If you'll follow me."
Will led Mr. Swann outside, to where a glossy limousine was waiting. It was parked right outside the house, its black paint shining in the Jamaican sun, its silver bearings glittering expensively.
"Oh, just lovely!" Mr. Swann exclaimed. "Your boss is quite the talented man. Pass my compliments on to him!"
Wills' face fell a bit. He felt as though he should point out that while his boss, Mr. Brown, watched football on the television, Will had been toiling in the garage for days, working on Mr. Swanns' limousine by himself.
"Of course I will." He said instead. "He'll be glad to hear that."
The young man caught sight of movement on the top of the stairs: a girl, dressed in airy clothes, with long dark hair that twisted flawlessly down her shoulders. She smiled when she saw him staring.
"Will!" Elizabeth Swannn called, running down the stairs and embracing him.
"Now, Elizabeth—" Mr. Swann started, disgruntled at his daughters' affection.
"It's so good to see you!" she grinned. "I had this crazy dream about you last night."
Will was rather taken aback. "Really?"
Mr. Swann cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, this is hardly appropriate—"
"It was all about the day we met." Elizabeth continued, unabashed. "Do you remember?"
Will stifled a smile, recalling the memory. "I don't think I could ever forget."
"Thank you so much for delivering the vehicle, Mr. Turner, but we really must be off now." Mr. Swann shot a look at his daughter.
"It was great doing business with you," Will said quickly.
Mr. Swann and Elizabeth exited their house, Elizabeth flashing one last deviant smirk at Will before she disappeared.
Will exhaled. Holy smokes.
"I hope your manners shape up before we get to James's." Elizabeths' father snapped, once the two of them were being driven in a Swann Co. private car. "You almost gave Mr. Turner a heart attack back there, the way you flung yourself at him. It was really quite unbecoming of you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, making sure her face was turned toward the window so her father couldn't see her.
"Dad, we're friends, and I know he doesn't mind it." she shrugged.
He ignored her. "Do you have the album?"
She had it in her bag. "Yeah."
They continued the journey in silence.
She felt silly for even bringing the album. It was her favourite band, her father disliked them, but he suddenly wanted her to play it at someone else's party? Were they just stuck on playlist ideas? She knew Black Pearl wasn't everyone's cup of tea, and she certainly bet that James didn't care for them. She texted Estrella to pass the time and hoped that the tension in the air would fade away.
"Destination," the chauffeur said from up front.
Elizabeth's father undid his seatbelt and stepped out. Elizabeth did the same, dreading the moment she'd have to join the chattering groups inside the large house in front of them, belonging to James Norrington.
Her father caught her just before they went in.
"Elizabeth, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier." he closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's just, lately, I ... I don't understand what's come over you. I know you're getting older, and I know I'm busy a lot, which means I'm away, but - all of this lashing out. The clothes you wear, the music you listen to. The way you are with boys! It's not like you."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. She knew this talk had been on the horizon for ages, but she hadn't been expecting it to begin like this. "What are you talking about, Dad? I wear what I want, because I like it, and same goes for the music I listen to!" she fought to find the right words. "I'm not trying to get attention, or anything. I'm just trying to branch out, I guess. And I'm trying to be more friendly. Like you said. Besides, if you hate my music so much, then why did you want me to bring it to James's party in the first place?"
At that, he sighed. "I know, sweetheart." he looked very tired. "I know. It doesn't matter what you wear or what you listen to. And as for the album, well, James was actually talking with me the other day. He wanted to know what kind of music you liked. He wanted to play it at the party."
"Did he really?" This caught Elizabeth off guard. Her father only smiled.
"Yes. He's taken quite a liking to you, you know." he smiled, but looked downwards, and the lines on his face seemed to be etched deeper into his ageing skin.
He looked so old and sad, and really, Elizabeth felt bad.
She knew why he was concerned— he didn't want her to go down a wrong path. It was completely understandable. He was a very overprotective parent, even if they didn't see much of each other. For her to be listening to the kind of music that was popular in Cortez Week, he had a right to worried. The bands that competed were commonly known as troublesome, and her father probably read enough media coverage to know that bands like to the Black Pearl weren't exactly the best influence. He only wanted the best for her.
And for her to mingle with someone like James— someone trustworthy, a figure that people looked up to— would only be a smart choice. He was doing his best.
Elizabeth rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I love you, Dad." she said.
He brightened a bit. "I love you, too, Sweetheart." he said, turning to face the door. "Do you want to go in?"
Elizabeth nodded, and together they went.
A/N: What do you guys think? Please review and stuff, it means Cap'n Jack in the next chapter ... !