Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from Pirates of the Caribbean, most unfortunately. All I've got is the storyline to the sequel of this fiction.

A/N: 08/12/05 I've got an editing agenda. I'm unhappy with the beginnings of all my stories and I'm going to bring things up to par. I've also been reading out the classics section of the library, beginning with Gone With the Wind, and have decided that if I want to be a writer, I've got to learn how to improve my work. So, here goes.

I desperately want to change Christina's name, but it's stuck. So, next time I write a story, the main female character is definitely going to have a name that is not mine. I've grown out of self-insertion fics. On the bright side, there are far too few fics with a main character called "Christina," so I'm doing right by the million-and-a-half real Christina's in the world.

1.

I awoke to another day with my dear sister Elizabeth. Well, I woke up early, again, but she was still sleeping like the little pampered princess she was. More like a queen than anything these days, and nearly as insufferable as one too. Leaving me to muse, yet again, about how much I swore I was adopted.

It made sense when you thought about it, I mean just look at Elizabeth, and then look at me. Complete opposites. Elizabeth, the beautiful, perfect, proper young lady had curly blonde hair and fair skin and full pink lips and big doe-eyes and looks every bit the porcelain doll she is. She sleeps properly, on her back or on her side, her hair perfect and her skin without a blemish.

I think she's a witch.

Meanwhile, I, the most-likely-adopted daughter, have dark brown hair and olive skin, a rather large nose and pale lips and light brown eyes that are almost owl yellow. I tan far too easily for someone who isn't a native of Port Royal. I sleep sprawled across the bed on my stomach. People say that to sleep on your stomach is to tempt the devil. I say that tempting the devil is more comfortable than resisting him. When I turn pale, it is not the china-white that Elizabeth has been blessed with. No, when I lose color from my face, it turns a sickly looking yellow, as if I'm about to discard propriety entirely and vomit in public.

Oh, I don't know if I'm ugly. But I'm not pretty. Not in the way that all the rich idiots of this place think beauty is.

Elizabeth got all the beautiful features from our mother, who ran off with a pirate nearly ten years ago and hasn't been heard from since. I suppose I got the leftovers from Father, assuming that his hair color was once as dark as mine. One never knows, and in all my twenty years I have never seen him without a weave. Perhaps he doesn't have hair. And as for olive skin and light brown eyes, who knows? Maybe Father had a roll in the hay with a village wench and she dropped me off on his door. Maybe that's why mother ran off, but then seeing as what my father looked like, a pirate would be better. My father has no spine, which is why he was made governor.

Oh I suppose he's not all that bad, as far as being a father goes. He does dote on me a bit, whenever Elizabeth doesn't take up all the space in the room, which is rare but not impossible. Sometimes I think I'd be better off as a maid in this house that way I would not have old, balding-under-that-ugly-weave, elderly-chap-looking-for-a-few-last-kicks suitors, who are really eyeing Elizabeth over my shoulder as they danced with me at a party of some sort. That way I could court all the village boys who are brown from the sun and have calloused hands and don't consider lifting gold spoons to their lips a full days' work. 'Cause the village boys like me. I am pretty much one of their kind, except dressed up in lace and frills and jewelry. Or perhaps they just want a governor's daughter, and they know Elizabeth is out of their league.

Anyway, that was how I spent every morning, trying to go through all the village women and wenches in my mind and figure out which one is my biological mother. I am the black sheep of the Swann family, if you haven't already surmised as much.

My mother, before she left, used to call my sister an I Swan White and Raven Dark…needless to say which daughter was which. My mother had a strange sense of humor. Swans are elegant, beautiful birds that are known for their nasty temper. Ravens are the carrions of death and disease, scavengers, and yet in the stories that my mother used to tell us before bedtime, they are very wise. No matter, Elizabeth is waking up. The poor child must have had a nightmare, she never wakes up so fast. Excuse me if I don't really care…She must think I'm still asleep, she's looking for something in her night table. Probably something she nicked from a servant or what have you. You'd think with all she has, she'd be satisfied.

Elizabeth and I are twins, and I'm older by a minute and a half. Yes, she practically shoved me out of my mother, assuming, of course, that we share the same mother. Elizabeth never waited for anyone when she had somewhere to be.

"Elizabeth? Christina?" my father said, calling through the door. Elizabeth jumped and scrambled to put on her robe and hide whatever it was she had taken. I caught a glimpse of it, it looked like a medallion of some sort…it looked familiar, and I could swear I'd seen it before.

"Elizabeth, are you awake? Are you decent?" my father called again. "Yes! Yes!" Elizabeth cried, not sounding entirely proper, if you ask me, straightening her robe and folding her hands together just as soon as he walked in, seeming as if she had been standing there all along. She was skilled at the very stupidest, most useless things.

"Are you still in bed at this hour? It's a beautiful day. I have a gift for you," my father said with a smile and very little ceremony, barely sparing a glance for me. I was so used to this that it hardly bothered me anymore. It was something that I quickly grew accustomed to, after Mother went away. Elizabeth returned his smile with an innocent grin of her own. How in the name of sea shells did her hair end up so perfect? She must be a witch. I tried in vain to pat my hair into some semblance of order, to no avail. It may not bother me that my father clearly prefers Elizabeth to myself, but that didn't stop me from wanting to appear at least a little less of a ruffian that I already am. Perhaps, in the few and far between moments that he did take notice of me, it would be to say something other than what I knew surely must be coming.

"And you, Christina, wake up now you lazy girl! What man would want you for a wife if you do not wake up to carry out your household duties?" my father scolded. I rolled my eyes, "I've been awake, Father, I just didn't want to wake Elizabeth by opening the drapes!" I said, and was thoroughly ignored. The maid (and secretly, my best friend) Mary, bustled about opening the drapes. I think I knew what it was to be ignored more than she did. I would make the perfect maid.

"Elizabeth, I have a surprise for you," Father said, handing her a box with a ribbon. Oh, goody, a dress for Elizabeth! Another dress for Elizabeth…just like the dress yesterday…and the day before that…

"Oh, its beautiful," she breathed, caressing the fabric a bit with a gleam in her eyes. It was a creamy color that would surely enhance Elizabeth's coloring just like every other color that the Good Lord had seen fit to create. There was a tiny pattern of roses and green vines embroidered delicately in the highly expensive fabric, covering it entirely except for the narrow strip in front. In the front their was a square pattern cut out, with lace holdings on either side. It would be fastened up the front, allowing the simple but pretty corset to show from underneath, laced up tightly in the back. A pair of white satin laces were tied in bows atop the folded dress, and these would be tied for decoration in the front. Talk about obsessive: Elizabeth was feasting her eyes on the dress as if she'd walked about naked and shivering her whole life; to me, it was just a dress. A very pretty dress. "Isn't it?" my father asked, pleased with his stroke of genius. Who would have thought to buy Elizabeth a dress? Good Heavens, the idea never would have crossed my mind. "My I inquire as to the occasion?" Elizabeth asked.

"Don't you know, Lizzy? You scratched your nose today! 'Tis cause for celebration!" I said sarcastically, tripping on the bed sheets as I got out of bed. Did I mention that Elizabeth got the grace in the family as well? The only thing I suspect she didn't get was a brain, the poor girl wasn't very smart.

Elizabeth glared at me, "You know I hate that nick name, Christina," she sniffed. I shrugged. My father glared at me as well, looking a bit like a prune. I had to stifle a smile, at least Elizabeth got his glare…

"Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter?" my father said, smiling. Elizabeth returned his smile, looking rather smugly at me. I raised an eyebrow. Did she honestly think I cared that she got a bloody dress? Oh yes, the child was rather slow…

"Well go ahead, Elizabeth, try it on. We're all anxious to see how stunning you'll look," I said. She looked at me, surprised. Obviously, if I complimented her, she didn't hear the sarcasm. She turned and flounced to behind the screen to try on the dress. Mary and another maid, a new girl whose name I didn't yet know, went to assist her. I began to make my bed, but I wasn't very good at it as a pulled the heavy blanket up pathetically. Unlike Elizabeth, who didn't move at all when she slept thereby making it very easy for the maids to make the bed, I had once again tossed and turned all night.

"Leave that, Christina dear, that's why we have maids," my father said gently, gesturing for me to walk to him. I did, and he pulled out a box from behind his back. "What's this?" I asked bluntly. The box looked suspiciously like Elizabeth's. A gift? For me? Was the sky falling?

"It's a gift, silly, what does it look like?" my father said kindly. A sudden rush of affection for the old fool flooded through me. Perhaps I wasn't as overlooked as I had thought. I felt tears pricking behind my eyes and I yawned widely, to cover up. My father would be pleased if I had started to cry. It would be very ladylike to weep with joy at being presented with a dress. According to my father, emotion frailty was coveted by men in their women. Blast if I could even begin to fathom those things that men call their minds.

"Sorry, father, I'm just still a bit asleep. Thank you, you shouldn't have," I said. He kissed my forehead, a strange display of affection usually saved for only Elizabeth. "I know sometimes I don't pay as much attention to you as I should, and you feel a bit neglected," he said quietly. I could hear Elizabeth gasping, I guess the corset didn't agree with her. Or perhaps she was just trying for attention again.

"Oh, no, Father, I never feel neglected. You are a terrific father," I said, desperate to get out of this father-daughter bonding moment. For the ten years that my mother had been away, there had been no bonding. My mother was the only one who paid more attention to me than Elizabeth. I think I actually got along with my sister while Mother was here.

My father smiled, obviously pleased that I thought he was a fine father. "Right, well, I promise from now on to be more fair with you and your sister," he said. Right…well Elizabeth did get her brain from him, what was I to expect? I'd like to see how long this proposal lasted. "Try on the dress, dear, I want to see how you look," he said. I walked to join my sister behind the screen, shedding my nightgown and turning helplessly to Mary.

"Oh, honestly, Miss Swann, you've been in enough dresses to know what to expect. Hands up, now, Miss, or hold onto the edge of the screen while I lace you up," Mary said, clucking her tongue at me. I sucked in a breath in preparation for the physical torment that was about to commence.

"I uh…had hoped you both would wear them to the ceremony today," my father said, once we were both behind the screen. "The ceremony?" my sister and I asked. Oh, bother, we had spoken the same words at the same time. I wondered if I was becoming a simpleton, or perhaps she was getting smart. "Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony," my father explained.

"Oh, how exciting. And he requests our presence?" I said dryly, knowing full well it was Elizabeth the Captain wanted to see. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I knew it!" she hissed. "Commodore Norrington, as he's about to become! Fine gentleman. He fancies you, Elizabeth" my father said. "Oh, fancy that?" I said sarcastically. "The man is old enough to be my father…" Elizabeth muttered, and I felt strangely bad for her. Norrington was a dry old prat with no sense of humor. He was nearly as self-centered as Elizabeth was. It was a perfect match.

"How is it coming?" my father asked tentatively, referring to the dresses. "It's difficult to say," Elizabeth wheezed. "I told they are the latest fashion in London," my father remarked. "Well, women in London must have learned not to breathe," Elizabeth complained. Elizabeth, being the thinner, was still able to speak even with her corset one. I, however, found that speaking was quite beyond me. I was far too focused on not dying to even attempt to speak.

Mary and the new girl, whose name was Linda, were done with Elizabeth, who of course looked stunning in her new dress. I hadn't expected anything less, hadn't even hoped for it. "Not so tight, please, ladies…I'm not that thin," I gasped, as the metal of the corset dug into my flesh through my bodice. Mary smiled, "I'm sorry, Miss," she said, but didn't make it any looser. Damn the style in London. We weren't in bloody London…

When the dress was finally on, and it was beautiful in pale and dark greens and beige with gold trimmings, I stepped out from behind the screen. It was cut very much in the style of Elizabeth's but my sleeves did not come to just under my elbows. Instead, they ended just below the shoulder and the outfit came with tiny gloves, matching the palest green of the dress and ruffled with lace. There was lace also on the neckline of the dress, hiding the fact that it was off the shoulder. The lace was up to my chin, or near enough to it, and uncomfortably itchy. If there was one area in which I trumped Elizabeth, it was the bosomy area. I was considerable fuller on top than my sister, although that may be because I've got some solidity to me, unlike the willowy Elizabeth. She despised this fact, urging Linda to lace her tighter to enhance whatever chest she did posses. My father was also aware of the difference in his two daughters bodies, and I keenly suspected that that was the reason behind this infernal lace.

"Christina, you look absolutely lovely," my father said, approval actually in his eyes. Now that was new. Elizabeth frowned.

"Father, might I have a word with you?" she asked pointedly, glancing at me. I took the hint, but wouldn't leave until Father told me to. "Christina, darling, would you be so kind as to go downstairs? I'm expecting a visitor and he shall need to feel welcomed," my father said. Welcomed my corset, we had a butler for that, and he just wanted me out of the room. So much for not neglecting me. Oh well, any company would be better than Elizabeth and her griping.