Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the Pirates of the Caribbean, only the original characters created in the story.
"Tell me a story, Mama," a young girl whispered in bed.
The mother smiled down at her daughter. The sky was filled with a nostalgic pink hue as the distant sun sets beneath the seas untamed waters. Ships were passing in the distance; to the naked eye, no one could tell whether they were navy or pirate. But knowing the infamous ports of Nassau, they were likely to be of the more nefarious sorts.
"Which story do you want to hear, mi hija," the woman said, lighting a candle on the girl's bedside, watching the light soak away on the white beaches of the Caribbean. She spoke with a distinctive Spanish accent, one not from the homelands but from the distant colonies.
"The one about my father," the child said. "The one about the pirates."
The mother grinned softly. "You never tire of hearing it, do you, child?"
The girl sat anxiously on her bed. Her blue eyes perked up with delight as they trailed her mother's footsteps to the wooden chairs.
"Where to begin," the woman sighed, digging back into her memories.
The girl straightened out her back and sat up, giving her mother her full attention, an uncommon feat by the young child.
"Your father was a loving man," the mother began. "Full of passion. It was no wonder that I fell in love with him the minute I laid eyes on him. He was in the marketplace buying maps for the faraway lands, places I've never heard of. That man, he was so focused on buying his maps that he never noticed that I had pickpocketed his watch."
The girl giggled. She couldn't imagine the sight of her mother stealing anything from anyone, let alone her father.
"What did he do when he found out," the girl inquired.
"He was furious," the mother chuckled. "He demanded to know who could've possibly stolen his pocket watch under his nose."
"And what happened next?" the children smiled. She loved this part.
"I stood up and said, 'It was me, sir.' And your father turned to me," the mother said, "And whispered in my ears. 'Keep it,' he said. ''Tis an honor to have me watch stolen by a beautiful maiden.'"
The blue-eyed girl giggled uncontrollably, throwing her bed sheets in a cluttered bundle. Her mother smiled, stroking with her finger the bronzed pocket watch that she had kept by her side all those years.
"Of course, that wasn't the last time we saw each other," the woman continued. "I learned that your father was staying in town for a while so we met several times after that. I showed him around town and he showed me the ship that he sailed. I remember it so well."
"The Black Pearl," the woman mused. "The fastest pirate ship in the Caribbean."
"So father was a pirate," the girl smiled.
"Indeed he was," the mother said. "A ruthless man to his crew and his enemies. But not to me."
"One day," her mother's voice dropped. "His crewmen were captured by the royal navy. He and his shipmates were locked in the prison, awaiting the gallows the next morning."
"But they never got there," the girl interjected.
"Right," the woman continued, stroking her daughters' long locks of chestnut brown hair. "Because I was there to save them."
"I love this part," the girl whispered to herself, listening intently.
"Late at night, I snuck into the prison where your father was," the mother said in a low voice. "And I freed his entire crew. His captain, his friends, the cabin boy. They all walked free."
"What happened next?"
The mother frowned. "You have to understand, mi hija. They were pirates. And some pirates are bad men. They pillaged the city, raiding the marketplaces in their daring escape."
The girl tried to appear shocked but she couldn't feign disinterest or disdain. She wasn't frightened; she was excited. The daughter couldn't quite understand why she felt this way.
"They had to leave as soon as they had to. But not before I had one last moment with your father."
The mother stared out into the window, watching the colors of night spreading into the skies, the same color as the mast of the ship that carried away her one and only love.
"'Velma,' he said. 'I have to go. Me crew need me.' I told him I understood, but I didn't. I just wanted him to stay with me at Port Nassau, but I knew that was impossible. There was no hope for us being together, not for a pirate and a seamstress. But I never did forget about him."
The girl sighed. It was irrational, she knew, to hear one story over and over again. The story of a pirate and a young girl and the love they shared. But there was something about the story; every time she heard it, she could feel herself drawn closer to her missing father, the one person she had loved beyond bounds but never met.
"Could you tell it again," the girl smiled.
"Katarina," the mother rustled. "It's time for bed. Go to sleep, child."
Katarina tucked herself into the creaking bed, happily reminiscing about the story she had just heard. The girl was so invoked by her mother's story that she had almost forgotten to ask. Almost.
"Mama," the daughter perked, as her mother almost stepped out the door. "What was father's name?"
Her mother sighed. Katarina knew that asking her mother to speak her father's name out loud was reopening wounds of the past, but she could never help herself. She had to hear it from her mouth, just one last time.
"Barbossa," her mother smiled with melancholy, "Hector Barbossa. Now get some sleep or you'll be tired for school tomorrow."
Her mother blew out the candlelight and left her lovely daughter alone with her dreams of swashbuckling pirates and daring adventures. Katarina lay in her bed quietly, staring out at the stars shining above her, thinking about her father, wondering if he was looking up and seeing the same stars at the very moment.
"I'm gonna meet you someday," Katarina whispered to the winds. "I promise."