Progressing Against Propriety
A/N: The Muse was kind enough to pay me a visit; I finally understand that far-reaching symbolism inherent in COTBP. Such a beautiful film in its characters and language and perfect subtlety. Enjoy :)
The sea grew calm and dark come evening, the ship skimming her dips and crests with the subtlety of a passing phantom, all grey and stealth. Candles lit the ship's interior, creating a genial ambience of all that was warm and tranquil to diminish the anxieties and fears of the night.
The glow of a candle emanating like a beacon from a port window faded away into darkness with the drawing of a curtain. The coarse maroon fabric rustled. The wisp of flame flickered; a hint of aromatic smoke curled in the air. A slender hand reached out for the candle; hot wax dripping onto the wrist; a soft curse fleeing rose lips. Another hand intercepting, taking the candle away, setting it upon a table with haphazardness; it slid across the wood, forgotten. The light shrunk in reaction as if repentant. All attention was now centred, the warmth and the energy transported to two bodies, touching hands. The wax rubbed away, leaving a faint crimson mark but not a burn. A subtle exchange of a smile, forgoing the fuss over a meagre candle. The light was now cast upon the back wall, leaving the remainder of the room cast in dusky shadow. The two bodies, the touching hands, abided in the heart in the room, the eyes of one reserved for the eyes of the other. The gentleman and his ladylove—the one tending to the other, healing wounds old and new. Memories and flames rekindled, drawn from times long gone but never forgotten. Times when they were merely lowborn boy and wellborn truelove. Different times, different circumstances, different identities. But feelings remain the same. A man and wife, easing one another's pains as is common; suddenly, thrust back into the past, a not so distant past, when both were as far from matrimony as possible.
He touched her wrist, favouring the red area with a cloth doused in salve. Then he turned her hand over, surveying for further damage, looking at her palm. He traced a faint scar there; looked at his own scar on his matching hand. In so doing, his touch ceased.
"Don't stop." Her voice echoed like beauty in the dim room.
He looked up; she smiled, tucking her damp, honey hair behind her ears.
"Do you remember? Below deck?" she whispered, her eyes dark and intent on his.
His smiled in turn and found her hand once more. "How could I forget, Miss Swann?"
She seemed to glow, basking in the taste of the yore. "Mr. Turner, I have not been called that in some time."
He entwined their fingers, his eyes dancing. "What have you been called since, then?" His voice was deep and quiet; it sent warmth through her veins.
"Oh, many things," she responded with a sigh. "But I prefer just one title."
"Oh?" he murmured with a nuance of inquiry. He circled to stand behind her, his hands slipping out of her own to rest upon her shoulders. "I'll hazard a guess at which title." He squeezed her shoulders. "Hmm…Miss Swann—no. Darling, Dearest, Lady…"
She shook her head at each of these.
"No? Well, I'm running out of options." His light chuckle tickled the back of her neck. "Miss Turner…"
"You're close," she breathed, a smile ghosting her lips.
"Am I?"
She could hear the smirk in his voice.
"How about…Mrs. Turner?"
"Ah, closer still."
He let out a breath, as if in disappointment. "I thought I was golden with that one." His breath was closer, at her ear. "Perhaps one more go…Elizabeth." His voice dipped lower, sultry.
She could feel his lips, he would nearly kiss her, but when the sensation was gone, she spun around to face him. His hands went to her waist, holding her close against him.
"Elizabeth Turner," he murmured, the quality of his voice such that it made her weaken. It was far from the timid 'Miss Swann' of their youth. "So, why did you give Barbossa my name as yours?"
She recalled; she had not told him then; had claimed ignorance. She touched his coarse jaw, tracing down to his chest—what she had longed to do then, during that flickering moment of intimacy below deck in the midst of cursed Aztec gold and revelations on that memorable voyage into the world of piracy. And again. History repeating itself, with greater results the second time around.
"You know perfectly well why."
He placed his hand atop hers, stilling her movement. She met his eyes; he frowned a little.
"Did you really?"
Her gaze simmered. "Of course I did."
A shadow of relief passed over his face. She drew her eyes down, brief. "I can see why you may have thought otherwise; I'm sorry."
He lifted her chin. "Don't be. Love is delicate."
Sincerity consumed her expression. "Will, I should have told you then that I loved you. But how could I…"
He pressed a finger to her lips. "Could you have, in that moment, even knowing it to be true? It would not have made a difference; does not make any difference now."
"Yes, I know," she said softly, assuaged though still somewhat discomfited. "I never liked being given roses as a token of affection."
"What?" He looked at her, perplexed by the sudden statement.
She sighed, bringing her hands up and linking her fingers behind his neck. "Roses signify love; love then, is sweet and fragrant and yet covered in thorns."
He gazed at her for a moment, pondering her words. "Well, that is apt."
She shook her head, stepping closer to breathe in his scent. "No, I don't think so. You never gave me roses."
He laughed, enjoying the seeming triviality of the topic she had breached. "Then what did I give you to signify love?"
She smirked. "Nothing of terrible consequence. Only this." She held up her hand, revealing the band of gold round her finger.
A hush of gravity came over him. "Oh."
"Love is like gold—pure and true, it brings richness to the lives of those who encounter it. And yet it is malleable, subject to change." Her eyes gleamed, becoming softer. "But it is strong and can endure anything; thus, everlasting."
His gaze grew laden, and in the interim of silence following the beauty of her words, he took that hand and touched that ring, shining in the faint candlelight. He then smiled softly, a crease at his eyes as he averted them towards her chest and neckline. Bare, missing the one adornment that used to grace that dear skin.
"You took my love before it was available for the taking."
She had touched her chest in response to the direction of his gaze, confused as she searched his eyes, which rose to meet hers.
"The medallion," he elucidated quietly. "And so you had a claim on me from the beginning."
"Oh," she murmured, her lips parting with the hint of a smile. "That was not altogether fair of me. I didn't even give you a chance."
He sighed heavily, a gleam of unadulterated tenderness permeating his countenance. His voice was low. "No, love. And thus I failed to heed the words of those who claimed I had a fool's chance of winning the heart of the governor's daughter." His smiled broadened; he brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, his gaze intent. "The truth is, I had no chance at all; it was gone and all was decided once you took that medallion from its place against my heart, to yours."
She expelled a quavering breath and he kissed her lips, catching her in his arms as she melted into his form. His scent wreathed around her; the feel of him inducing nostalgia. The gold medallion kept locked and hidden away until brought to light; replaced with the gold ring. Permanent. Love no longer unsteady and uneven, but reciprocated with identical symbols. Gold not merely on the skin but burning through the skin, shining in the eyes, resulting in a tang upon the tongue. From childhood, love as metallic, moulded and shaped as if through the forging endeavours of a blacksmith. The heart wounded with every clash of the anvil; but made stronger too with each hammering infliction. Love transferred from one pair of hands to the other, the scales imbalanced as one possessed the token of gold while the other did not. Love evaporated, hanging in the air, in question then. Until finally love meets and intersects, entwining in a bond of mutualism. Love: not duplicitous like the rose, the fickle and deceptive rose, caressing at one moment and pricking at the next. No…love is…decidedly…in a different realm altogether, in and of itself.
The sheets were cool against her back as he lay her down. She grasped at the lapels of his shirt, her winsome eyes conveying more than words ever need convey. He smiled, easing himself beside her. His hand slipped underneath the loose tunic she donned, coming to lay flat upon her middle. He caressed her skin, gently, keeping his eyes on hers. Passionate, full of promise.
"Elizabeth," he spoke. "I want to discuss something."
She placed her hand over his, her brows faintly furrowed in question.
He leant upon his side, regarding her with a thoughtful though probing expression. "What do you mean by suggesting a Letter of Marque to Jack?" He paused then, waiting for her answer.
"It was all a ruse."
"Was it?" he countered, raising his brows in scepticism.
Her fingers toyed with his, stalling. "Yes…I want him to believe that we would be willing to put ourselves at risk. That way, it's as if we're playing into his hands."
"Hmm," he murmured, glancing down at their entwined fingers. "He certainly fell for the decoy. If that is all it is."
She drew her hand away, looking upon him with sudden indignation. "What are you saying, Will?"
He met her gaze, solid. "That you do intend to return to Port Royal, despite all common sense against it."
She looked away, huffing in exasperation as if to retort.
"I know you, Elizabeth," he insisted. "You can't abandon your father." His voice softened and he touched her chin, urging her to look at him. "Not when he has been on our side through all of this."
Her eyes flashed. "All?"
He nigh glared at her. "All that matters. You must see that, or why the urge to go back?" His eyes were pained, as if he were reliving a sliver of a nightmare.
Abruptly, she touched his face, her palm against his cheek. No; she could not witness his pain, pain that was supposed to have gone; why did it reappear?
"He's my father, Will," she swallowed hard. "I love him. What will become of him—alone and vulnerable to the likes of Admiral Greys?"
He frowned. "You fear the worst? That his position as Governor will be threatened?"
She gave a small nod.
His lips set in a line. He understood the root of her sentiments; understood her pain. His family had been ripped from him before his tenth year; he could not comprehend the parental bond beyond that point. She still had her father. Who was he to demand that she sever that precious bond; leave her father to the wolves that took advantage of naïve trust? And yet…and yet…
He looked up at her. Her eyes were large; pools of brilliant, damp gold. "Elizabeth, I understand the burden you bear, but I fear that cause is lost."
She smiled faintly. "Not if there is but one fool willing to fight for it."
His eyes sparked, his interest piqued.
"Jack," they murmured in chorus.
She smiled broadly, moving to push him beneath her as she straddled him. "In time, Jack will set sail for Port Royal, thinking he is acting of his own accord; he will want to ensure that we hold up our end of the bargain."
"When in fact…"
"When in fact, he is our leverage."
"And what happens once at Port Royal?"
She slid her hands along his chest. "Oh, only the worst for Jack and the best for us."
He looked at her, astounded. "You really feel comfortable betraying his confidence?"
She leant down, her lips grazing his. "Take what you can, give nothing back. Right?"
He groaned. Puzzled and…aroused by her all at once. "You are an indecipherably clever woman."
At her soft laugh, he turned her. She lay beneath him, under his influence. With care, taking all the time in the world, he ripped her tunic in two from the neck downwards, revealing her figure inch by inch. Her breath quickened; she closed her eyes, expecting his touch; surprised when it did not come. He gazed at her. Her cheeks heated beneath those eyes, that intent, that…vague reverence intermingling with desire.
"Will?" There was an edge to her tone, an edge of uncertainty.
His eyes, dark as obsidian, found hers. "You are a beguiler at best and a pirate at worst, Elizabeth."
Her voice was quiet. "Perhaps…it is the other way around."
His eyes dilated, and leaning down, he crushed her lips with his, drinking from her as though parched. She clung to him, arching against him, willing to accept his touch after the onslaught of his eyes.
"Elizabeth." His voice was sharp as his lips pulled away from hers, his breath ragged. His eyes were heavy, brimming. "I refuse to be like my father."
She moaned softly, twisting beneath him. She was breathless, uncomprehending. "What on Earth do you mean, Will?"
His hands came to rest upon her abdomen. "He may have been a good man, a good pirate. But never was he a good father."
She looked up, her breath catching.
His fingers traced her skin idly. "Whatever happens, whether this child be borne of the sea or the land, I shall not abandon it." He kissed her, gentle this time, lingering. "I shall not abandon you."
"Will," she whispered, overwhelmed by the shift in mood, the shift in significance. The burden that he bore, the unwarranted sense of guilt. The duty to live up to an image for which he had no model, no guidance. She looked at him searchingly, yearning to find the words to say; yearning to reassure him. That their burdens were not so different; that neither of their causes were lost, not truly. That they were one in the same; that she loved and trusted him so fully…he possessed her soul and without him she could not…
She kissed him, her hands on either side of his face, urging him down to her. "I love you," she breathed as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. A sound escaped his throat; his features calmed, lost in a veil of passion, and he enveloped her, the touch of lips and hands erasing all misgivings, all pains.
Souls recovering, they soared upon the wings of the sea, progressing towards territory as yet unchartered. The future hung uncertain before them, and yet they were prepared for the confrontation.
A/N: The next chapter will speed things up a bit.