Title: A Woman's Sacrifice
Author: Rosie Rosen
Summary: Elizabeth would do anything for her true love. Even make the greatest sacrifice a woman can make.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbean and all its affiliates. I do not own the feelings Elizabeth feels, but I have experienced them. If this feels like it isn't Elizabeth, blame me, because it is me. *hangs head in shame*
Elizabeth Swann touched the cold, unfeeling reflection in the glass in front of her. She stroked the hard, smooth surface, watching her hand touch, but not actually feel, her mirrored self's dark blonde hair. She moved her hand to her real hair and ran her fingers through the tresses she'd loved so much to sweep into the current fashionable styles. She shut her eyes tightly before disentangling her hands from her hair.
Elizabeth opened her eyes again, this time concentrating on her mouth. Lips slightly parted, as they usually were, each one painted a luscious pinky-red. He had enjoyed her lips well enough. But there were other things he enjoyed more; the gentle rocking of a boat on the sea, the chilly wetness of the ocean on his skin, the feeling of the wind in his hair. She rubbed the back of her hand angrily against her mouth, harshly wiping off the lip rouge until only irritation reddened her lips.
Her eyes were another matter. Big, brown eyes, they were entirely too large and feminine. She thought of his eyes. They were brown, like hers, but deeper. Always narrowed in contemplation… always filled with a yearning for something not found in a life with the woman he loved. Elizabeth would have to just live with the way her eyes were. She could line them with kohl as he had done before he left. He was just mimicking what he had seen another do, and she would mimic him. It might help.
Elizabeth reached up to touch her hair again, but stopped at her ears. She laughed scornfully to herself at the girlish pearl earrings dangling from her earlobes. She'd never get away from being a woman wearing those. She practically tore them out, tossing them onto the vanity table carelessly. Instead, she picked up a thick, golden hoop earring and put it in her right ear. Better. The effect was decidedly pirate… what she was going for, anyway. That was what he wanted to be. That was what he'd want her to be.
She turned away from the mirror, staring at pile of some of his old clothes. She smiled. This part she could enjoy. Skirts and dresses were not for her, no. Beautiful, but so impractical. Elizabeth pulled off her dress and petticoats, shedding the 'her' and donning the 'him.' Trousers, boots, a belt, a vest, and a loose shirt, her breasts bound tightly underneath the last. Practically a man now. Practically someone who could run away from a life of stability to be the man he had in his blood.
But Elizabeth wasn't the girl he could love yet. How ironic. To be the girl he could love, she had to be a boy to chase him down. She finally picked up the knife that gleamed on the table, sharp and sinister. The temptation was growing now to stop where she was, to give up before it was too late. Nothing was so permanent as what she was about to do. She could reapply the rouge and the makeup. She could put her jewelry and clothes back on, and unbind herself so that she was who she was born to be. That was all easy to do. She didn't want to. She loved him. But did she love him enough to cut off her hair?
Hair. A woman's beauty. Elizabeth's beauty. Long, luxurious locks tumbling down her back, windswept and wet from sea air. Or elegant ringlets, with most of it pulled onto the top of her head, and one gorgeous, feminine curl cascading over her shoulder, tiny wisps of hair framing her face. She'd avoided cutting it for years, refusing to powder it lest the powder ruin the luster of the color that was somewhere between dark blonde and light brown. Her hair. Strikingly attractive, perfect to her. She would change when it was cut. She would cease to be Elizabeth when her hair ceased to be long.
Elizabeth was choked with tears. She had her hair now, grasped tightly in one hand, the knife in the other. It was simple enough to do, but too hard to actually do it. He was worth it, she told herself silently. Hair grows back. It wasn't forever that it would be gone. Love is forever. He will always love you, and you will always love him.
Her eyes shut tightly and her body clenched, she cringed at the sound of knife cutting her splendor. Her locks fell to the ground, until what was left was just long enough to pull back, away from her face, but not long enough for her to be Elizabeth. Tears rolled down her cheeks, cool against her warm skin and salty to her tongue. She imagined her tears as the sea, consoling her, but also telling her that she belonged to it now. Claimed, as he had been.
Looking at the cut hair scattered around her made her silent sobs more violent, and she tied her hair back, hating how light her head felt, hating how little there was left.
Her love for him surpassed everything. She would sacrifice anything for him. Her identity, her freedom, her life. She had sacrificed her crowning glory, her stunning hair, to be with him. Rarely did you find love truer than this. The love of Elizabeth Swann, now disguised as one Robert Porter, for William Turner, was, indeed, true love.