Author's Notes: Before you begin reading, it's a good idea you know what type of story this is. Basically, I'm challenging myself to write a Mary-Sue into the PotC 'verse, but write her as a believable character, thus, Isabelle Swann was born—no connection to Twilight, though. She's got the traits I've seen in a lot of PotC sues: Elizabeth's sister who gets dragged along for the ride but manages to fall in love with Jack Sparrow, all that jazz. Anyways, wish me luck, and I wish you happy reading, but also warn you of the occasional grammar error. I don't have a Beta.

Disclaimer: The day Batman fails to be completely badass, will be the day I own Pirates of the Caribbean. Seriously, it won't happen.

Beyond that Horizon
Prologue: Two Sisters and a Gold Coin

"A pirate's life for me."

Really, it wouldn't be so trying without this stubborn fog. Isabelle Swann lurched unsteadily on her feet, swaying back and forth before she finally latched onto the handles of the front bow. Her younger sister, Elisabeth did not even spare a glance at her eldest sibling, only continued singing. Unlike Isabelle, she was not affected by the ship's constant rocking; in fact, she had rather taken to it and would be sorry when they finally arrived at the port.

"We exhort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up—"

"Elisabeth," Isabelle snapped. "Please, stop. That is a not a song a young lady should be singing." Her anger had brought some color to her pallid face, but her knuckles were still bleached white from their vice-like grip on the guardrail.

"Aye, missy. Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don't want to bring them down on us, do ya?"

Both girls glanced behind them, to Gibbs, one of the many crewmembers aboard the ship. He was plain in appearance, the only memorable aspects were his sideburns, but he was, as Isabelle learned upon her first day on the seas, almost-obsessively superstitious. It seemed everything had some sort of sign attached to it; to whistle would brew a gale, to step with your left foot first onto a ship would surely bring disaster, to starve a cat would cause misfortune. The list went on and Isabelle was sure she had enough fallacies of bad luck to last a lifetime and more.

Elisabeth, on the other hand, enjoyed hearing about Gibbs's superstitions. She paid more attention to them than she did to Isabelle's lessons, a fact that greatly vexed the elder Swann sister. Elisabeth was expected to become a fine lady; one that would need to set an example in the savage, untamed islands on the Caribbean. Those people needed guidance, not a little girl who was swept away by every little trinket she spotted, and Isabelle was having a difficult time as it was. Her younger sister was just so stubborn, not exactly a trait coveted in a future gentleman's wife.

"Mister Gibbs, that will do."

Isabelle smiled in relief. At least her father and Norrington understood.

Gibbs protested. "She was singin' 'bout pirates! Bad luck to be singing 'bout pirates mired in this unnatural fog. Mark my words."

Yes, well, it is also bad luck to name a ship after a promised woman, or to even have a priest aboard. Were she any less of a lady, Isabelle would have voiced her thoughts aloud.

Norrington dismissed the warning without trouble. "Consider them marked—now, on your way."

A true gentleman.

"Aye, lieutenant," Gibbs seceded, but Isabelle could hear him muttering to himself. "Bad luck to have a woman onboard, nevermind two." And, to Isabelle's greatest revulsion, he snuck a drink from a flask hidden under his coat.

"I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate."

The look that Isabelle gave her sister matched exactly the one her father gave.

"Elisabeth!" Isabelle gasped. "You do not say such things!"

Norrington only smiled. "Listen to your sister, Miss Swann." He walked towards them and looked out past the bow of the ship. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop."

Elisabeth, eyebrows narrowed as she tried to figure out what that meant, glanced at Isabelle, who merely nodded towards Gibbs. He had wrapped a tie around his neck, stuck his tongue out in imitation of a hanged man.

She gave a small gasp, realizing what that meant, and Isabelle frowned. Perhaps she was still too young to be learning of such things—after all, she was certainly too young to be singing pirates,of all damnable things.

Governor Swann seemed to have the same idea. "Lieutenant Norrington, I appreciate your fervor but I am concerned about the effect this subject will have upon Elizabeth."

"My apologies, Governor Swann," Norrington nodded his head to him and to Isabelle before striding off.

When he was gone, Elisabeth smiled brightly. "Actually, I find it all fascinating." She looked as if she had a Yuletide feast spread before her.

A knot, similar to her father's, formed between Isabelle's eyebrows. She had been aware of how excited Elisabeth had been when she told her about their voyage to the Caribbean, a little to excited, perhaps, but Isabelle brushed it off as a child's enthusiasm—and, truth be told, they all needed some of that. Times had been rough for the family back in England, debts to be paid, duties to be kept, and when this promotion came, Isabelle couldn't have been happier.

But, did they truly have to go to the Caribbean of all places?

"Yes, that is what concerns me." Isabelle snapped out of her reverie to her father's hardened expression, which was now directed towards Isabelle. "Come along, Isabelle."

"Y-Yes, father." Reluctantly, Isabelle let go of her lifeline on the guardrail and shakily walked to the side of the ship, away from Elisabeth. Isabelle could feel her nausea returning, partly from her dreadful case of seasickness, but also from knowing that she was in trouble—again.

"Isabelle, I am worried." She nodded. It was evident on her father's face, even though most people wouldn't see it, the small things, wrinkles on his forehead and directly below his eyes, and that knot between his eyebrows. The journey from England was tiring, but Elisabeth's talk of pirates was just almost as unpleasant.

"I blame myself," Isabelle sighed. "I never should have told her those stories as a child. They're giving her… ideas." She said the word as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.

He gave a small laugh. "Elisabeth was merely a baby. I doubt she understood anything anyone said."

"Well, she obviously had to have—" Isabella staggered, a new wave of seasickness overwhelming her.

Before she could speak again, Elisabeth's scream cut her off. "Look! A boy, there's a boy in the water!" She pointed erratically towards the water below the bow.

Norrington ran to the side of the ship along with several other crewmembers. "Man overboard!" he shouted. A commotion to rescue the lad began. "Man the ropes. Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!" Norrington ordered.

Isabelle ran to Elisabeth, clutching her tightly. They both watched as an unconscious boy was pulled from the water and set gently on deck. "Don't," Isabelle warned, holding her back.

"I want to see—"

"Let them do their job, Elisabeth."

Then, from behind them, came a great burning smell.

Everyone, even those tending to the ailing boy, turned around. They were met by a ship lay in pieces, burning up by colossal flames that produced a thick, choking smoke. Isabelle's eyes watered and her nausea returned full-force.

"Mary, mother o' God."

Isabelle continued to stare at the broken pieces, floating on the still sea. The smoke seemed to embrace the wreckage, as if it were trying to hide from prying eyes, and she felt like retching—especially after she spotted a woman's sunshade floating upside down on the water. It was still a pure white color and the lace trimming on the edge had not been disturbed.

But Isabelle certainly was. Silently, she recited a prayer, for those lost, and for themselves.

"What happened here," Isabelle's father demanded, not quite believing his eyes.

"It's most likely the powder magazine," Norrington reassured. "Merchant ships run heavily armed."

"Lotta good it did them." Gibbs's infernal voice spat. "Everyone's thinkin' it; I'm just sayin' it: pirates."

Governer Swann scoffed, clearly shaken. "There's no proof of that. It was probably just an accident…"

"Rouse the captain immediately!" Norrington ordered in an authoritative voice. "Heave to and take in sail. Launch the boats!" He marched purposefully towards the rowboats. Now every sailor was on deck, shouting towards one another, and Isabelle felt lost in the turmoil.

At that moment, Isabelle realized that Elisabeth wasn't next to her. She panicked and craned her head, thinking the worst. What if she had fallen? What if she had passed out?

"Elisabeth!" Isabelle cried out. "Elisabeth, where are you?" Fortunately, she found her, clutching to her father. Isabelle sighed in relief, her queasiness receding once more. Good girl, she thought, making her way towards her family.

"—take care of him," she heard her father tell Elisabeth, before sending her away towards the boy. She nodded and went after him just as Isabelle grabbed his arm.

"Father, what is—?"

"Isabelle, there you are!" He smiled in relief and grasped her shoulders. "I've put the boy under Elisabeth's care. Watch over them both. The crew will help if trouble arises."

Isabelle nodded. "Where will you be?"

"I am accompanying Lieutenant Norrington on the boats."

"Oh, father!" Isabelle gasped. "Please, you cannot—"

"I must. I am governor, after all," he gave her a hard look. "Now, go. I'll return shortly."

Grudgingly, she sighed in acceptance. "Be careful, Father," and trailed after her sister, who was speaking to Norrington, hands behind her back, prim and poise, but had a rather startled expression on her face. Odd, Isabelle noted.

"His name's William Turner—that's all I found out."

Norrington nodded, clearly disappointed he could not find out more. "Take him below deck."

Elisabeth and Isabelle stared after as the crew doctor, whom Isabelle doubted was really a doctor at all, began to tend to the boy.

"He'll live, won't he?" Isabella could sense the uncertainness in her sister's voice.

"Young Will is under your charge, so, of course, he will be fine." Isabelle smiled kindly and saw the relief in Elisabeth's eyes. Though, despite her words, Isabelle wasn't completely sure. The boy was in critical condition. Who knew how long he had been in the water—or, even worse (Isabelle shuddered to think) what had happened to him on the ship. You never can tell with pirates. Isabelle shook her head and motioned her sister. "Come, Elisabeth," and reached out to grab her hand.

"What—?"

In Elisabeth's palm was a small coin, gold as it shined. It would have been rather lovely, like a Guinea from England, and that was what Isabelle believe it to be for a moment, a memento from home, but the skull engraved into it told her otherwise.

"What is this, Elisabeth?" She snatched the coin from her hand.

"It's nothing! Please, give it back!" Elisabeth grabbed for it, but was too slow. "Isabelle," she whined.

"Where did you get it?" Isabelle whispered, clutching Elisabeth's arm almost painfully. "Did you find it? Did one of the sailors give it to you?"

Elisabeth stared at Isabelle, racking her brain. How would she explain this to her? That she just took it—and that she had no idea as to why? Something about the coin called out to her. It had a mystery surrounding it, and Elisabeth's curiosity got the better of her.

"Answer me when I ask you something!"

"W-Will gave it to me—to keep—u-until he wakes up!" Elisabeth stuttered at last, and she immediately felt guilty. Not only had she stolen something from a boy who was half-dead, she was now blaming him for a wrong he had not committed.

Isabelle searched Elisabeth for any lies. She wasn't sure why she was so opposed to Elisabeth keeping the coin for the boy. Something about it gave her the chills. Even now, holding it in her hand, she could feel something evil about it, as if it were unholy. The notion itself was ridiculous. A satanic coin? If the ladies from Isabelle's knitting circle were there, they would surely have laughed. Even Isabelle would have laughed at herself.

"Please, Isabelle."

Finally, Isabelle gave the coin back, in spite of her returning queasiness. "You will give that right back, as soon as he wakes up, understood?" Her voice was harsh and commanding, matching the look in her eyes.

"Yes," Elisabeth sighed, but she had all ready made up her mind. She would keep the coin. It would be her little secret, and she promised herself she would learn all there would be to know about it and then, and only then (maybe), she would give it back.

Isabelle nodded, let Elisabeth guide her back to the bow, a place the younger girl seemed to be quite fond of, only, this time, they faced away from the wreckage, for Isabelle's sake. She couldn't bear to look at it any longer. Just thinking about it put her into a state of panic.

Elisabeth wondered, "What do you suppose it is," playing with the coin.

"It doesn't matter what it is," Isabelle snapped, massaging the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. That, coupled with her seasickness did not make for a very good combination.

"I wonder…" Elisabeth trailed off and there was silence. Then: "Isabelle, look!"

Half expecting there to be another ruins, Isabelle leaned forward to catch a glimpse of another ship, half hidden in the mist, but there was something wrong about it. The sails were black and tattered and the ship itself was decrepit, almost as if it were about to fall apart any second, and it seemed to merge with the thick fog.

Both girls focused on one spot in particular, though: high above the sails, a black pirate's flag.

"Is that—?"

Isabelle fainted.

And Elisabeth woke up.