Chapter 1
A/N: I know, I know, you may feel free to call me a nut, an idiot, and a complete and utter moron, but whenever I see a good movie, I like to add another character that fits me. With Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (which is personally one of the best movies I've ever seen, go see it!!!), I pictured that Will (Orlando Bloom *sighs and drools on the carpet*) had a twin sister that Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) didn't know of. Let's just say she sailed to wherever her brother was a few years after he and Elizabeth (Kiera Knightly) first met. So here you go. If I really don't like where I'm going, or I get reviews telling me it absolutely sucks, I'll stop. Until then.
"Will, stop pacing!"
My brother looked up, his dark brown eyes shining in anticipation and worry. "I can't help it. She does that to me every time I think of her."
I sighed and faced him square on. "You know, if you're going to be a coward about all this 'I love her' crap, I'll tell her for you. She's my best friend, after all."
He gripped my shoulders. "Don't you dare. I don't want her thinking I'm some love-sick swain who drools on her shoes."
"You ARE a love-sick swain who drools on her shoes," I pointed out. "If she can't see the big ol' hearts in your eyes, no one can. But I do. Just like the time-"
"Lobsters don't count as lovers, Meg," he said quickly, smiling.
"You kissed that thing until the salt rubbed the skin off your lips. Don't think I don't remember. Mother was laughing so hard she fell off the front steps."
He grinned at the memory. "Yeah, I remember," he said, spacing out again with memories of our dear mother. I studied him. People are right. We do look like twins, which is the entire purpose since we are twins. My hair is Mother's dark brown, unlike Will's regular brown. But we have the same big, deep liquidy brown eyes, the same chin, the same nose, the same heart- shaped face. I like that.
"Did you finish polishing the sword blade yet?" I teased. His face paled.
"SHIT," he whispered, turning and stampeding downstairs to the smithy. Mr. Brown is kind enough to let us live above the blacksmithery. Will and I both work there, he as the blacksmith and I as the leathersmith. He makes swords and handles, and I make sheaths and cords. Mr. Brown appreciates both of our skills. Lazy jackass. He sleeps almost twenty hours a day. We do all the work; he gets all the credit. It's a complete and total crapshoot, and my blood boils every time I think about it.
"Will, I was joking!" I yelled, walking quickly down the winding staircase. "You've polished that thing enough as it is."
"I missed a spot!"
"Who cares?"
"I do! What if Elizabeth sees it?"
"I highly doubt it! She doesn't know the difference between a blade and a handle."
"She knows when something looks good."
I rolled my eyes upward. "Suit yourself." I jumped into the dirt pit and scratched the old donkey behind the ears. He brayed quietly in greetings.
"Don't do that, I need to concentrate."
"What's to concentrate on? You wipe a rag on metal over and over and over! I could teach a two-year-old to do it better than you in a roomful of braying donkeys."
Will frowned and ignored me, concentrating on a single spot on the silver blade. The door slammed open, causing Will to drop his precious polishing rag and to curse really loud.
"GOD FUCKIN' DAMMIT CAN'T I EVEN POLISH A FUCKIN' SWORD IN PEACE?" he bellowed, and I winced as the timbers shook at his deep voice. The donkey brayed loudly this time, and Mr. Brown stared at us in the doorway, his hands filled with strong liquor. Will stared at him in horror, his cheeks dark red. "I-I-I'm so sorry, sir," he stammered, moving to help him.
"Don't worry about it, lad," he grunted, moving slowly to his chair in the corner, the bottles clinking merrily in his flabby arms. "You just do what you do and we'll forget about it completely. I don't think a few words will scar you for life, Miss Turner."
I shook my head, my ears still ringing. "I think I'll go check on the wash now." And I ran out the back door with my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
"Hello, Margaret."
"It's Meg, and hello to you, too, Elizabeth." From inside, a sword dropped with a clang on the floor.
She smiled at me worryingly. "You know, if you're going outside, you should put up your hair, like I do."
I smiled, fingering my knee-length hair. "But unlike you, I'm not the governor's daughter, so I don't have to set such an example for the common folk like me. Nice dress."
She smoothed out the non-wrinkled blue silk dress and beamed. "Really? Father likes it, too, but I don't think blue's my color, you know."
"Yeah, plum would look so much better," I said.
"Is Will here?" she asked, her eyes glowing.
"Uh." I banged on the door and yelled, "Will, you there?" No answer. We made up this system; he doesn't want her to know he's here. I shrugged. "I guess not."
"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed. "Did you hear that dreadful cursing a few moments ago? I think it was close to your smithy."
"Yeah, I heard it, too," I replied. "My ears are still ringing."
She laughed. I've always liked Elizabeth's laugh; I like to image that's what an angel's laugh would sound like. Of course, I like Elizabeth herself. She has beautiful golden brown hair that when not tied up is very wavy and curly, and brown eyes like us, and very pretty skin. She's very, very beautiful.
"Well, I must be going," she said, giving me a quick, tight embrace. "Take care. Good-bye, my dear friend."
"Bye, Elizabeth," I called, waving until she was out of sight. I pounded on the door. "Come out here, you big pussy."
The shutters flew open above me, and Will leaned out, completely and utterly out of it. "She asked for me," he crooned to himself, grinning like the dolt he is. "She asked for me."
I threw a sponge in his face. "Stop day-dreaming and help me wring out this laundry."
A/N: You like so far? I do.
A/N: I know, I know, you may feel free to call me a nut, an idiot, and a complete and utter moron, but whenever I see a good movie, I like to add another character that fits me. With Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (which is personally one of the best movies I've ever seen, go see it!!!), I pictured that Will (Orlando Bloom *sighs and drools on the carpet*) had a twin sister that Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) didn't know of. Let's just say she sailed to wherever her brother was a few years after he and Elizabeth (Kiera Knightly) first met. So here you go. If I really don't like where I'm going, or I get reviews telling me it absolutely sucks, I'll stop. Until then.
"Will, stop pacing!"
My brother looked up, his dark brown eyes shining in anticipation and worry. "I can't help it. She does that to me every time I think of her."
I sighed and faced him square on. "You know, if you're going to be a coward about all this 'I love her' crap, I'll tell her for you. She's my best friend, after all."
He gripped my shoulders. "Don't you dare. I don't want her thinking I'm some love-sick swain who drools on her shoes."
"You ARE a love-sick swain who drools on her shoes," I pointed out. "If she can't see the big ol' hearts in your eyes, no one can. But I do. Just like the time-"
"Lobsters don't count as lovers, Meg," he said quickly, smiling.
"You kissed that thing until the salt rubbed the skin off your lips. Don't think I don't remember. Mother was laughing so hard she fell off the front steps."
He grinned at the memory. "Yeah, I remember," he said, spacing out again with memories of our dear mother. I studied him. People are right. We do look like twins, which is the entire purpose since we are twins. My hair is Mother's dark brown, unlike Will's regular brown. But we have the same big, deep liquidy brown eyes, the same chin, the same nose, the same heart- shaped face. I like that.
"Did you finish polishing the sword blade yet?" I teased. His face paled.
"SHIT," he whispered, turning and stampeding downstairs to the smithy. Mr. Brown is kind enough to let us live above the blacksmithery. Will and I both work there, he as the blacksmith and I as the leathersmith. He makes swords and handles, and I make sheaths and cords. Mr. Brown appreciates both of our skills. Lazy jackass. He sleeps almost twenty hours a day. We do all the work; he gets all the credit. It's a complete and total crapshoot, and my blood boils every time I think about it.
"Will, I was joking!" I yelled, walking quickly down the winding staircase. "You've polished that thing enough as it is."
"I missed a spot!"
"Who cares?"
"I do! What if Elizabeth sees it?"
"I highly doubt it! She doesn't know the difference between a blade and a handle."
"She knows when something looks good."
I rolled my eyes upward. "Suit yourself." I jumped into the dirt pit and scratched the old donkey behind the ears. He brayed quietly in greetings.
"Don't do that, I need to concentrate."
"What's to concentrate on? You wipe a rag on metal over and over and over! I could teach a two-year-old to do it better than you in a roomful of braying donkeys."
Will frowned and ignored me, concentrating on a single spot on the silver blade. The door slammed open, causing Will to drop his precious polishing rag and to curse really loud.
"GOD FUCKIN' DAMMIT CAN'T I EVEN POLISH A FUCKIN' SWORD IN PEACE?" he bellowed, and I winced as the timbers shook at his deep voice. The donkey brayed loudly this time, and Mr. Brown stared at us in the doorway, his hands filled with strong liquor. Will stared at him in horror, his cheeks dark red. "I-I-I'm so sorry, sir," he stammered, moving to help him.
"Don't worry about it, lad," he grunted, moving slowly to his chair in the corner, the bottles clinking merrily in his flabby arms. "You just do what you do and we'll forget about it completely. I don't think a few words will scar you for life, Miss Turner."
I shook my head, my ears still ringing. "I think I'll go check on the wash now." And I ran out the back door with my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
"Hello, Margaret."
"It's Meg, and hello to you, too, Elizabeth." From inside, a sword dropped with a clang on the floor.
She smiled at me worryingly. "You know, if you're going outside, you should put up your hair, like I do."
I smiled, fingering my knee-length hair. "But unlike you, I'm not the governor's daughter, so I don't have to set such an example for the common folk like me. Nice dress."
She smoothed out the non-wrinkled blue silk dress and beamed. "Really? Father likes it, too, but I don't think blue's my color, you know."
"Yeah, plum would look so much better," I said.
"Is Will here?" she asked, her eyes glowing.
"Uh." I banged on the door and yelled, "Will, you there?" No answer. We made up this system; he doesn't want her to know he's here. I shrugged. "I guess not."
"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed. "Did you hear that dreadful cursing a few moments ago? I think it was close to your smithy."
"Yeah, I heard it, too," I replied. "My ears are still ringing."
She laughed. I've always liked Elizabeth's laugh; I like to image that's what an angel's laugh would sound like. Of course, I like Elizabeth herself. She has beautiful golden brown hair that when not tied up is very wavy and curly, and brown eyes like us, and very pretty skin. She's very, very beautiful.
"Well, I must be going," she said, giving me a quick, tight embrace. "Take care. Good-bye, my dear friend."
"Bye, Elizabeth," I called, waving until she was out of sight. I pounded on the door. "Come out here, you big pussy."
The shutters flew open above me, and Will leaned out, completely and utterly out of it. "She asked for me," he crooned to himself, grinning like the dolt he is. "She asked for me."
I threw a sponge in his face. "Stop day-dreaming and help me wring out this laundry."
A/N: You like so far? I do.