"Commodore Norrington." The relatively tall woman curtsied gracefully to him, even though he stood stock-still.
"O-Oh, Miss Hamilton." He bent stiffly, though not as deeply as she had curtsied. "Why are you here?"
"Because the Governer's requested my presence." She smirked slightly, standing taller.
"Ah. Well, I suppose..." He stepped away from the hole in the stone that made up an enormous and thin arch. She began to walk through, but stopped as she passed him, putting small, agile, gloved hand on his arm, almost comfortingly, and said:
"Good luck." She then removed the moment of emotion from her face and continued on. He needed no explanation as to why. She was cold. It was that simple. The moment she had arrived, it had been decided. She was cold, and she knew it well enough to keep everyone thinking that way. She wasn't, really.
"Wait." She stopped. "Why are you wishing me luck?" She turned, gracing him with one of her rare smiles.
"Because everyone knows that you're going to propose to Miss Elizabeth." She turned back and continued through, leaving him alone with the memory of that bittersweet smile and the warmth left by her touch... But he somehow knew that that wasn't the reason.
Three years later...
"Who goes there?" The harsh and dark voice shouted, a silhouette being all that was seen.
"Elizabeth, go. I'll be right behind you." He pushed her, knowing perfectly well that he was lying. "Go."
"James.." She climbed onto the rope, making it halfway before it happened.
"Part of the ship, part of the crew. Part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew..." The angry crewman kept repeating, grabbing while he did, a large, long pole.
"B-back to your station, man!" James shouted, trying desperately to quiet his thundering heart.
"PART OF THE CREW, PART OF THE SHIP!" As he was impaled painfully upon the pole, he remembered what Miss Eirwyn Hamilton had said to him, on that day, the day that affected his life to an amazing degree. She had said 'good luck'. He now knew the reason. And as Davy Jones asked him:
"James Norrington. Are you afraid of death?" As he stabbed him with his sword, as he lay dying, surprisingly, it wasn't Elizabeth Swann he was thinking of, no.
It was that bittersweet smile, that for one, precious, moment he had seen on Eirwyn Hamilton's pale face that was in his thoughts. It reminded him of something, he had always thought about what... And now he knew.
It reminded him of melting snow.
A/N:
Um, wow. I keep ending up with bittersweet, tragic, romantic-esque things... But here are a few notes:
Neve- Is Snowy in Latin, So Nevere is Snow-like.
Melting Snow was a theme I had originally pinned for Harry Potter, but I might just change the plot... Hmm Sorry about this. It was supposed to be sweet, happy, then I end up killing him. Stupid Elizabeth couldn't just leave first, then drag him with her. This story was born from the thoughts that Elizabeth just doesn't deserve him!
Thanks, Please REVIEW!
Natsu-Tan