Disclaimer- Ok, I don't own any of the original "Pirates of the Caribbean"
characters, quite unfortunately. I DO, however, own all the characters
mentioned in this story that aren't in the movie.okay?
Belladonna looked about her sadly. She stood on this platform, next to her friends, her sister, and the crew of a ship she now knew so well. Above her hung their fate, coiled tightly into the nooses meant for their necks. Below them were a group of sneering faces, yelling things like Pirate, Scoundrel, Dirt, and other names that meant little to her. She was past the point of caring. She was past the point of feeling, really.
"Numb." she said quietly. "I am happily numb."
As the executioner began to read out their list of offences, Belladonna found herself drifting off. Her head was swimming as it was, and she fell into a drowsy daydream, in which she pondered how she got here. Indeed, she remembered perfectly. It had begun six years ago, when she was only 15 years old, living with her parents and sister on their sprawling cotton plantation near Nassau.
Belladonna Lafayette had been born into a wealthy family. Her mother, a lady in every aspect, raised her to be polite, quiet, clean, and respectable in every way. She was to address everyone as Miss, Mrs., or Mr., and was not to speak unless first spoken to. She was not to share her opinions, and not to talk too loudly or harshly. She could not curse, and was not to use big words, as a lady who flaunts her brains was never to get a marriage proposal.
Her torso was always bound by a corset, her legs always under several layers of lace and cotton and silk, her hands always in delicate gloves. She was not to be outside for long, so that she did not sunburn, and she was not to go near the ocean, as it would ruin her hair. She hated her life. It was so stiflingly formal, she felt as though she would suffocate. Every night, she would lie in bed and have dreams of singing and dancing, of drinking rum, of cursing, of breathing deep the salty sea-air, and, most of all, of doing what she wanted.
She smiled at the thought. She would love to be her own master. She would love to be able to scream, to cry, to laugh as loud as she pleased. She wanted to be more than a porcelain doll. For that was what she seemed to be. Just a doll, to be molded to fit a certain mold, the same mold as her horrid mother and simple-minded sister. She felt like nothing more than a doll. She usually felt no emotion other than bored, save for when she played the piano. That was the one thing he mother would let her enjoy. But, soon enough, even that way taken from her, after her mother said how it ruined her dainty fingertips. This was it. The straw that broke the camel's back.
She ran away one night, and joined a pirate ship. She would always remember that day. The day she left lady hood behind, and became a true pirate. For her, it was a brand new beginning. She bounced from ship to ship for years, gaining little notoriety. She was simply an unknown, which was fine for her. She was happy being nobody, as long as she was free. But, as it seemed, fame found its way to her.
Belladonna looked about her sadly. She stood on this platform, next to her friends, her sister, and the crew of a ship she now knew so well. Above her hung their fate, coiled tightly into the nooses meant for their necks. Below them were a group of sneering faces, yelling things like Pirate, Scoundrel, Dirt, and other names that meant little to her. She was past the point of caring. She was past the point of feeling, really.
"Numb." she said quietly. "I am happily numb."
As the executioner began to read out their list of offences, Belladonna found herself drifting off. Her head was swimming as it was, and she fell into a drowsy daydream, in which she pondered how she got here. Indeed, she remembered perfectly. It had begun six years ago, when she was only 15 years old, living with her parents and sister on their sprawling cotton plantation near Nassau.
Belladonna Lafayette had been born into a wealthy family. Her mother, a lady in every aspect, raised her to be polite, quiet, clean, and respectable in every way. She was to address everyone as Miss, Mrs., or Mr., and was not to speak unless first spoken to. She was not to share her opinions, and not to talk too loudly or harshly. She could not curse, and was not to use big words, as a lady who flaunts her brains was never to get a marriage proposal.
Her torso was always bound by a corset, her legs always under several layers of lace and cotton and silk, her hands always in delicate gloves. She was not to be outside for long, so that she did not sunburn, and she was not to go near the ocean, as it would ruin her hair. She hated her life. It was so stiflingly formal, she felt as though she would suffocate. Every night, she would lie in bed and have dreams of singing and dancing, of drinking rum, of cursing, of breathing deep the salty sea-air, and, most of all, of doing what she wanted.
She smiled at the thought. She would love to be her own master. She would love to be able to scream, to cry, to laugh as loud as she pleased. She wanted to be more than a porcelain doll. For that was what she seemed to be. Just a doll, to be molded to fit a certain mold, the same mold as her horrid mother and simple-minded sister. She felt like nothing more than a doll. She usually felt no emotion other than bored, save for when she played the piano. That was the one thing he mother would let her enjoy. But, soon enough, even that way taken from her, after her mother said how it ruined her dainty fingertips. This was it. The straw that broke the camel's back.
She ran away one night, and joined a pirate ship. She would always remember that day. The day she left lady hood behind, and became a true pirate. For her, it was a brand new beginning. She bounced from ship to ship for years, gaining little notoriety. She was simply an unknown, which was fine for her. She was happy being nobody, as long as she was free. But, as it seemed, fame found its way to her.
