Disclaimer: Ya, y'all all know I only own Anemone. POTC is not mine and I lay no claim on it, I'm merely borrowing it for the benefit of the rabid plot bunnies and my demanding muse.

Author Note: Well, it doesn't appear as if this plot bunny is going to die, for this chapter really where the plot is introduced. Now I know this chapter might be a little depressing towards the end, but I promise that this won't be a dark story. Anemone has a rough time ahead of her but things won't always be bad. Thank you to those who reviewed and to those who read but didn't let me know what ya thought, please do! I would really like to know how this story is faring with y'all. Anywho, onto the chapter!


Chapter Two

Anemone barely stirred when a knock came from the door, simply curling up into a smaller ball and drawing the sheet tighter about her. She had never experienced anything as luxurious as this thing called a bed and the soft warmth surrounding her was far more appealing than whatever the person on the outside of the door wanted.

She began to drift back into cottony cocoon of her dreams when the sound of metal connected with wood caused her to lift her head from the nest of blankets. The doctor stood by the table in the central area of the cabin, a tin tray with several varieties of food steaming temptingly in her direction. Her nose caught the scent and she shifted, the sheets falling around her as she moved to sit up. The doctor watched her, that same, warmly paternal expression on his creased features.

"Hungry, are ye?"

She nodded.

"If ye're strong enough, come sit over here but if ye'd prefer, I'm sure the Commodore wouldn't object to ye eating where ye are."

It took her sleep befuddled mind a moment to remember who this commodore was. "I believe I am strong enough." She murmured demurely, recalling the behavioral teachings she received before accepting her mission.

She unconsciously pressed a hand against her chest and felt the comforting thrumming between her breasts, her shoulders slumping slightly. How would she ever manage on her own? She had told the truth to James, Commodore Norrington as her lessons reminded her. She truly had no family left. All of them had died, albeit not in the pirate attack.

She felt a brief flicker of guilt for the innocent people who had passed on when she unleashed the power inside of her, but it was partially assuaged by the knowledge that many more would have died if she had not taken up her quest. Realizing then that the doctor was staring, she forced a delicate blush to spread across her pale cheeks.

"I am afraid, sir, that I am not properly dressed to be seen by a man who is not my blood relation." She cast her eyes down into her lap, looking at the doctor from beneath her long lashes.

He immediately understood, assuming like James that she was from a privileged family, and smiled again. "Do not fret, Miss Storm, I will remove myself presently. I hope ye enjoy yer meal and I suggest ye get as much rest as ye can." He bowed slightly to her, and then did as he said.

Anemone rose from the bed once the door closed and looked down at herself, smoothing her palms over the lawn material of the shirt. It fell to the middle of her thighs and dwarfed her petite figure considerably. The sleeves consumed her small hands and she rolled them up past her wrists so they would not interfere with eating. In all honesty, the heavy, long shirt was more clothing than she was used to.

At home, a sharp stab of pain jabbed at her heart as she briefly remembered everything she had lost, seaweed was the only garment ever worn and even then, only a few strands would be draped across the body. She pushed those thoughts out of her head as she sat down at the table, forcing herself to stop dwelling on the past. Her family had given up their lives to keep her alive and out of the hands of Davy Jones. As she began to carefully spoon the simple soup into her mouth, she couldn't help but shudder at the idea of being Davy Jones's prisoner.

While she would survive quite easily when the ship plunged deep into the ocean, the ministrations of the cruel sea lord would be an entirely different story. He would do anything to possess the power that pulsated warmly in her chest, in her torso, in her entire body. That glow within filled her with comfort when she could find no solace in a strange world. She sighed quietly and set the spoon down, pressing her hand again to the space between her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed and her brow wrinkled as she concentrated.

A faint humming filled the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A gentle breeze tugged at the loose wisps of hair the salt had not stuck to her head and she slowly took her hand from her chest. Her palm and fingers were coated with a roiling, twisting substance that constantly contained all the blue and green hues possible, looking for all intents and purposes like thick ocean water.

A strand connected her middle finger to her chest and she looked at the clinging material with something akin to awe on her features. Bluish green light reflected on her face, intensifying the unique shade of her eyes as she brought her other hand up to create a bowl with her palms. The viscous liquid pooled there, that delicate thread still joined to her ribcage and she could not help but smile as the energy in her hands thrummed in her veins. It amazed her how powerful something so innocuous could be. How could something so innocent be so very deadly?

Noise outside the room jerked her out of her dreamy state and she slapped her hands against her chest, the substance seeping back into her body. She leaped to her feet and fisted her hands in her shirt, turning her mildly guilty and started features toward the strong figure now standing in the doorway. Her ocean colored eyes met James's clear green ones and for a moment their gazes held, each lost in the depths of the other's stare.

He broke it first, eyes dropping to rake across her shape, his shirt simultaneously hiding and revealing her body to his gaze. Anemone took that opportunity to look upon the commanding, muscular figure of the commodore, not needing to fake the soft flush that stole over her features.

"Commodore!" She gasped breathily, pressing her palms to cheeks. "I am inappropriately dressed!"

He realized his impropriety at her words and jerked his gaze away, a faint hint of color on his own features. "I apologize, Miss Storm, I merely came to bring you this." He lifted the dress in his arms to bring her attention to it. "If you have finished eating, I would like to ask you a few more questions about your family."

Understanding his intent, and the humans' strange need to keep their women as covered as possible, she plucked the dress from his hands and stepped behind a stiff curtain in a corner of the room. She pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, not particularly caring if the garment became wrinkled. She wriggled into the dress, enjoying the feel of the slick material sliding against her bare skin.

He had not provided her with any undergarments and those she had been wearing upon being saved were apparently ruined. She shrugged off the thought that the dress wouldn't fit as it was meant to without the appropriate under things and stepped around the curtain, holding the gown against her chest.

Keeping her eyes focused firmly on the ground, she spoke. "Commodore, I require your aid. I cannot lace the back up on my own."

His eyes widened at the idea of touching her in such an intimate way, but conceded that he was the only other person on the ship who could do it without somehow besmirching her reputation. He stepped forward and she obediently turned around, pulling her hair over her shoulder to expose a long, graceful expanse of smooth back. James felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at her and reached out with trembling fingers.

As he laced the back of the dress, he couldn't help but remember how this outfit had looked on a different woman. His features pinched as memories of Elizabeth Swan swam through his head and he inadvertently tied the laces tighter than he otherwise would have. When he stepped away, Anemone's breath hissed out of her mouth and she looked down at her chest, surprised to see her breasts almost spilling from the neckline. She turned around slowly and fought the urge to tug the dress up, biting her lower lip uncertainly.

"Am I correct in assuming the woman to whom this dress belongs is slightly less…endowed, than me?" She asked, not particularly expecting a response outside of a blush from the man.

He merely shrugged and fought to keep his gaze from being glued to the tempting expanse of cleavage, surprised to be thinking that Elizabeth had never look quite so impressive when she wore the gown.

"I apologize." He said quickly. "I did not mean to lace you so tightly."

She shrugged her shoulders delicately, noticing that the movement pulled her breasts up until the top of her areolas peeked out from the neckline. James barely stifled a strangled noise, his sense of propriety warring with the more primal, hungry side of his psyche. Unable to help himself, his gaze became fixed on the hint of dark pink flesh, mind spinning off in wildly.

Anemone tilted her head to the side, watching his reaction with an animal like curiosity. Her eyes darkened as she categorized his response to the slight nipple slip with the series of images from her training and she carefully tucked her breasts back into the dress, trying to ignore the thrill of excitement his obvious fixation on her flesh sent through her.

"Perhaps," she murmured "you could loosen it?"

In his embarrassment and haste to rectify his error, James tore his eyes from her breasts and did not notice the flicker of amusement on her features. He shuffled behind her and made quick work of the laces. The moment they loosened, the breath caught in her lungs whooshed out and her breasts settled deeper into the bodice of her borrowed gown. She settled herself back down before the tray of cooling food, an intentionally shy smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Commodore. You have helped me so much yet there is no way for me to ever repay you." She began to eat again, keeping her gaze fixed on his features.

Acknowledging her change of subject as a way to neutralize the awkwardness of the situation, an awkwardness that he alone felt, he sat down on the opposite side of the table, loosely clasping his hands on the table.

"You need not keep thanking me, Miss Storm, for I have only done what it is expected of a gentleman. You are a lady in need; it would go against all of my instincts to abandon you to some dark fate."

She arranged her features into a fearful mask, letting the emotion bleed into her eyes. "But what will happen to me once we reach this…Port Royal? All of my belongings and wealth are lost, either to the greed of pirates or to the depths of the sea. I do not desire to impose myself upon your generosity any more than I already have but it appears that I have no other options open to me."

His gaze met hers and he smiled comfortingly. "Miss Storm, please do not fret. I swear to you that no harm shall befall you once we arrive. I already of a family who will be quite willing to take you in and they will supply you with everything you could need."

She let the fright on her face grow stronger. "But who would be willing to accept a strange woman into their home, their lives?"

He cleared his throat, as if slightly embarrassed though she did not comprehend why he would feel uncomfortable admitting this simple fact. "It will be my family, Miss Storm. Actually, you will live with my mother and younger sister on our estate outside of Port Royal." He knew it was not exactly conventional to invite, as Anemone said, a strange woman to live with one's family, but James could see no other alternative.

He could not ask Governor Swann to take her in, not with the loss of Elizabeth still so fresh in his mind. He could not help but to clench his hands tightly as he thought of the once so very proper Elizabeth Swann lowering herself to willing mingle with pirates, to even become one herself. He forced those thoughts out of his head, refusing to dwell on the memories that caused him so much pain. It was then he noticed the subtle blush Anemone now sported, the pink flush coloring her cheeks and spreading down her neck.

"Thank you, Commodore." His generosity slipped past the walls she had built around herself, she could not allow herself to become attached to any of the humans she interacted with, and truly touched her. "I am so very grateful you found me." She breathed her voice sweet and soft.

She forced herself to ignore the blossom of warmth his words caused in her, touching her words with a hint of power that caused his thoughts to snap immediately to her. As he looked at her, she sent out tendrils of her innate magic, envisioning the strands slowly encasing him and connecting him to her. While he could not see the magic weaving around him, he certainly would begin to feel the effects of her siren charm. His green eyes grew unfocused and his lips parted slightly as his mind succumbed to her power, unable to fight her call.

She hated the guilt that threatened to choke her as she pulled him deeper and deeper under her spell, his admission of her impending permanence in his life the seal she needed to tie them together. She truly had no choice. If she did not ensnare him, Davy Jones would find her and rip her soul out from her very chest to acquire that delicate presence inhabiting her body. She suppressed a shudder at the gruesome possibility and slowly stopped infusing his hungry human soul with her magical essence.

Her spell would not force him to love her, no magic in the world could do that, but it would slowly cloud his judgment until he gave into that animalistic lust that drove the human subconscious. He would fight it, of that she had no doubt, but eventually he would submit to her magic and then they would be irrevocably bound. The spell casting ended when James's eyes snapped back into focus and his brow furrowed.

He unconsciously scrubbed his hands across face before dropping them into his lap. She forced the guilt out of her eyes, shoving it down into the bottom of her heart, knowing that someday the well holding all her self-hatred would overflow and swamp her. It was her burden to bear, the price to pay for having the power to destroy the world. James looked at her and made some excuse she barely heard, before fleeing the cabin.

Once she was alone, she pressed her eyes closed and silently cursed fate for the destiny spread out before her. Never could she trust another person, human or otherwise. Never could she whisper the terrible secret she carried for fear that her words would eventually find their way to the hungry ears of the king of the sea. She was destined to be alone, surrounded by people corrupted with her magic, forced to protect and defend her. She could pay no heed to their own wants and dreams only bind them to her and watch as they slowly grew into bitter shells of the people they once were.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she thought about her own, eventual descent into madness. Such creeping insanity had inflicted every other sacred vessel that had ever been blessed with protecting the very Soul of the Sea, and now it was her turn to carry it until her mind broke. She shoved herself away from the table, what amount of her meal that found its way into her belly turning violently.

She stumbled to the bed and collapsed on it, pressing her face against the pillow so that it would soak up her tears. She had known what would happen to her when she had been chosen to be the bearer of the Soul, but when faced with the stark reality, she could not help but mourn the harshness of her fate. She now understood the temptation to turn the Soul over to Davy Jones, simply to be free of the life that accompanied it.

When the elders appointed her as the vessel, she had accepted it with little help. She had not truly understood what it meant, thinking only to save her people from total destruction. Of course, it had not helped to save her family and now what was left of her race was scattered to the farthest depths of the oceans, all hoping that their precious bearer of the Soul would be able to interpret the secrets of the Soul that none before her had been able to decipher.

The more rational part of her brain spoke up then, reminding her that it was possible to change her fate. If she could understand the secret the Soul held, she could find the way to release it from within her body. In freeing the Soul, she would free herself from her dark destiny and be able to live a normal, sane life. She clenched her hands in the sheet around her, unable to help the anger boiling up inside her at such a hopeless prospect.

Although the most ancient prophecy of her people told of a woman returning the Soul to its lost home and saving the world from certain destruction, Anemone did not believe that she was that female. Perhaps one of her descendants, for she would be forced to pass this burden to the single girl child she would someday bear when her mind eventually broke, would uncover the secret resting place of the Soul, but not her.

Her quiet cries slowly morphed into jarring sobs as she poured her pain and rage into the unbiased softness of the pillow. She allowed herself those few moments of weakness, knowing that once she disembarked from the Courageous, she would have to keep her true self locked away deep inside herself. Only the proper young woman from her training would be permitted to exist and she knew the farce of a life she would soon life would slowly begin to drive her mad.

Eventually her tears dried and she curled up into a pathetic ball, wishing with all her heart as she passed out, that she was still a youngling drifting in the comforting embrace of the Mother Ocean and not cast adrift in a world in which she could never truly exist.


So yeah, there's not much for me to say here, except that reviews will get a new chapter outta me faster. So, y'all review!

Blessed Be

Ame