My first attempts at a PotC fanfic. A full length one. The whole shabang. Servitude takes up right after DMC and is a combination of my own mind and the things I've heard and read. Rumors, leaked scripts, and images. All with the addition of a character of my own creation, though I have many more.

genres: action, suspense, drama?, humor, romance Dx
pairings: oc/norrington, lizzy/will, HINTED jack/lizzy
disclaimer: i only own AMBRE. that's it. if potc was mine ... oh you don't want to know. curse you disney.

We Control The Sea;
the very sea himself


For the moment, Beckett was quite surprised despite the lack of showing it. Here he was, James Norrington. A once highly regarded man now no more then a has-been, but being the one returning with the Letters of Marque …

"If you intend to claim these, then you must have something to trade."

Watching as the ex-commodore strode over, there was only hope that the man had what he wanted - what he desired.

"Do you have the compass?"

The words having left the stoic's mans lips, the other only responded with a subtle shake of the head. Sudden doubt came to the man, and soon what would be a trace of annoyance would leave him. But, the chance was not given.

"Better."

A content smile swept over the once well defined features, and with the raising of his right hand, a satchel dangled. But in the same swift movement, it was dropped onto Beckett's desk, a sickening thud in it's wake.

The only facial change upon the Lord was that of his normally narrowed eyes, widening. Leaning forward in interest, it came as a surprise. Whatever was in that satchel … was pulsating. What flies lingered around it did not know the true treasure of which they yearned to taste.

"The heart of Davy Jones."

This was way more then expected. How James had come into the possession of the heart was not of question at the moment. Regaining the little composure in which he had lost, Beckett stood from his seat, picking up the letter as he did so.

"This--"

With the letters, he pointed down toward the beating heart.

"Is worth more than just a pardon, Admiral."

It came as a shock to the ex-commodore, but a pleasant shock. He'd get his life back, just as he had hoped to do with stealing the heart out of Jack's pathetic jar in the first place. The sudden promotion wasn't something to complain about, though he would have been just as pleased with the pardon.

But, this was Beckett he was dealing with. There would be some minor set backs - it would be expected coming from a man of his sort.

Moving out from behind his desk, Beckett's eyes locked on Mercer, who didn't stand all that far behind James.

"Mercer."

With a look proven to have its non-verbal effect, the elder man took to retrieving what had been requested. Nothing more than a couple of minutes before the long black box was set on the desk.

Giving the man a brief nod of acknowledgement, Mercer in turn received the same from the ex-commodore before stepping aside.

Looking down at the box displayed before him, James instantly recalled where he had seen it before. In the hands of Governor Swann, on the day of his promotion as Commodore. Bringing his gaze back up towards Beckett, he awaited the already anticipated order.

"Your sword."

Flourishing his hand towards the box, a pleased glint flickered in the mans eyes before he turned his back to James, taking the needed steps to get towards the window-doors.

Dropping his gaze once more, James reached out with his left hand, gliding it over the boxes surface. What memories it struck; memories that would be better off left in the back of his mind. Not lingering, he flipped the box open, and with both hands, lifted blade from its case.

The time it had been since last he held it …

Without hesitation, James took the blade by its hilt and brought the tip close towards the heart displayed on the desk.

"Just give the word, My Lord."

Looking out the now opened doors, out into the bay, Beckett grew a sinister grin before glancing back over his shoulder.

"That won't be necessary, Admiral. With that heart, we control the seas."

What silence had filled the office just moments before, was diminished with the horror stricken screams. Shouts, yells, and cries from the sailors that worked at the docks. But one name rang clear over those calls, one name that namely every sailor knew.

"Davy Jones!"

"The Flying Dutchman!"

Beckett wasn't phased in the least, nor was Mercer who stood just a few feet behind him.

Hands folded behind his back, once more Beckett turned sharply towards James.

The Admiral was struck with shock. What had proved to be a normal day in Port Royal, vanished. Out in the bay, making its way ever so slowly to dock, was a wicked ship; a ship with the jagged teeth of a shark at its head.

"Let me repeat, we control the sea; the very sea himself."

and there you have it. the start to something that i hope will be at least decent. reviews are greatly appreciated. :3