Title: Dragonfly
Author: Muse a.k.a. Viorith
Rating: R for sexual content and violence.
Pairing: Will/OFC, Jack/Anna Maria
Feedback: Yes
Archive: Ask first please!
Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with PoTC, I'm just playing with them. I do own Sabine. So please ask if you want to play with her.
Summary: Sabine has loved Will since she was 16, but since his eyes were for Elizabeth only, she settled for his friendship. A year after the curse is lifted, Sabine now needs him to teach her the way of the blade so she can avenge her father's death on a man that once called himself his friend.
Note: "Words in italics inside quotations are spoken in Spanish."
Chapter 2
He'd walked the path to Sabine's house so many times, he could have found it blindfolded. The sun hung low and full in the western sky, its bright yellow light from midday transformed into a burning orange/red globe. It reminded Will of the way metal gets after it's been pulled from the fire and allowed to cool down for several minutes. In the trees over and around him, the animals from the day settled down for the night, as the nocturnal creatures woke to say their farewells to the sun and hellos to the moon.
He enjoyed the serenade, enjoyed this peaceful time of the day and regretted it would soon be coming to an end. Sabine's father would be back soon, and with his return, Will's nightly visits to Sabine would cease until the next time Diego departed and asked the blacksmith to look after his daughter.
Oddly enough, Diego Arroyo picked the perfect time to set sail for Spain. The merchantman left a week after Elizabeth entered the shoppe and told Will her father was ill. She followed the statement up by telling him she had agreed to marry Norrington. Four months later the pain of her absence was still there, but it was greatly diminished, and Sabine had a huge part to play in that. He doubted she realized how much she helped him, or that her friendship was the only thing that helped him through the storm of losing Elizabeth. He only hoped one day he would be able to be there for her in the same manner.
Ahead he could see the light and movement in the kitchen of the rather large house. He could also smell the aroma of meats being cooked, causing his empty stomach to grumble with the thoughts of being full soon. It wasn't before long that the sounds of the nocturnal creatures were joined by singing coming from the house. It was a song he'd heard Sabine sing before, although as it was in Spanish he had no idea as to what was being said, or what the song was about. According to Sabine, it was just a lullaby her mother used to sing to her before she died.
When he reached the house, he made a circle of the area as he always did. He found no robbers in the waning sun shadows, but came upon a black and gray tabby. The kitten was from the litter of three that Sabine's cat had two months earlier. Apparently, she had run out the house looking for adventure, but hadn't quite figured out how to get back inside where her mother waited to feed her. She mewled at Will and ran over to him, placing her front paws on his legs and mewling again until the blacksmith bent down and picked her up, cradling her against his stomach with his left arm.
"Lose your way, did you?" he questioned. He scratched her head and headed for the back door, knocking softly before calling out, "Sabine, it's Will."
"It's not latched," she called, pausing in her song and turning to give him a smile as he entered. A frowning Will, lifted the latch and pushed the door in on it's hinges. "You found her," she observed the kitten clinging to his shirt. "I have been looking everywhere for her, I finally gave up and figured she would show up when she was hungry."
"I thought I told you to latch the door when you got home," he chastised.
He placed a wooden lever over the wood plank to keep the door from being opened, then crossed the room to where the mother cat lay on the floor. Her other two kittens were already nursing their dinner. As he stood, the index and middle finger of his right hand began to undo the buttons of his vest, bringing a V-shaped expanse of his tanned chest into view.
"I didn't tell you that for the sake of hearing myself speaking," he added standing and crossing his arms over his chest.
Sabine turned to him, taking in the sternness of his features and choosing to combat it with her typical light attitude.
"If I latched the door when I got in, I would simply have to unlatch it when you arrived," she gestured to the door, "And as you can see the door is now latched so your goal was accomplished."
"The purpose of you latching the door was to keep others from entering so easily. What if I had been someone who meant you harm?"
"But you weren't," she dismissed turning back to the stove and stirring the pots. She moved across the kitchen to the cupboards and removed two plates, and two goblets. She then crossed to the mini wine cabinet and chose a bottle.
"That is not the point," he quipped.
Sabine gave an exasperated sigh, "Then tell me, Will, what is the point?"
"Your father asked me to look after you--"
"–Which you have done marvelously," she snuck in with a grin.
"Sabine please," it was his turn to give a sigh. "I see the way men look at you," he began as she transferred the contents of the pot to the two plates.
"Really?" she questioned with sincere curiosity, "And how do they look at me? Hmm? I am no different than any other woman in Port Royale."
"You're a beautiful woman, Sabine," he pointed out, "Have you not seen the lustful gazes that come your way?"
"No," she answered, "I have not."
He didn't bother adding that on occasions he had the same notions about her. It embarrassed him that he had visions, possibly even desires, to see Sabine's naked body, but he did. She may have been his best friend, but he had spoken the truth. No matter how she tried to hide it in her plain dresses, unadorned face, and lovely ebony hair hidden under wraps, she was a beauty.
Her skin was the color of some rear reddish brown fruit, and as smooth and flawless as a finely honed blade. Eye such a dark brown they looked black, and so large and trusting; the innocence in them was unmistakable. And when she smiled, or better off, when she laughed... the sound was musical and had the power to charm on its own. Unfortunately her laughter was all to rarely heard. Along with her dark complexion setting her apart from the aristocrats of Port Royale, her body gave her a distinct different look. It was hard to believe the girl that had been as straight and flat as a board, as far back as he could remember, now had the hips and breasts of voluptuous lady.
Amazingly, this transformation seemed to occur overnight, as the blacksmith didn't remember watching either hips or breasts develop. One night they weren't there, the next morning they were. And with them came the attention of the townsmen that ogled the brown flesh the corset put on display in her simple dresses. There was no doubt in Will's mind what any one of them would do with the proper motivation and opportunity.
"Well I have," he insisted. Sabine gave a soft smile and removed the pot from the stove to the table with the plates. Will opened the wine and poured a portion in each goblet. "This is serious, Sabine."
"So what if they do look? If I am beautiful as you say, why would they not? They look at the other young women, why not me?"
He began to dish the thick stew onto the plates, while Sabine pulled the bread from the oven.
"Because their looks to the other woman are not of a lecherous nature," he stilled her movements by lighting his hand on her arm. His pure brown eyes searching her dark ones. "You are not the same as the other girls Sabine."
She stared at him, forcing her eyes to stay on his, and not stray down to his lips as they longed to, or down to his revealed chest. She had gotten used to dealing with the reaction of having him so close to her. The quickening of her pulse, and the clamminess of her palms was all typical for her in Will's presence. It was as normal for her as breathing. It was something she had gotten so used to, she believed if it ceased to happen, she would miss the adrenaline rush that came with it.
The smell of the meat in the stove was the only thing that provoked her to move away from her friend. "Do you say that because I am half an African and half a Spaniard?" she questioned.
"Yes," he replied plainly, not flinching when her sharp eyes narrowed. "Your mother was a slave--"
"And my father purchased her freedom," she rebutted trying to stay the quiet anger that was beginning to rise.
"I know," he raised his hands to stave her onslaught of possible insults. "And it makes no difference to me what your background, but to some of the men in Port Royale it is enough. Something they would never consider doing to the other women--"
"Like Elizabeth?" she demanded barely holding onto her anger.
"Yes," he answered pointedly. "They would never consider raping Elizabeth, for fear of the law. But with you... under the perfect circumstances and conditions…" he hesitated, not wanting his words to terrify her, but at the same time wanting her to be frightened enough to see the reality of her situation. "They would rape you and think no more of it than stealing fruit from another man's tree. And it's possible the courts would see the assault as the same."
She pressed her lips together and turned from his soft gaze. Not wanting him to see the knowledge of the truth and the humiliation it brought in her eyes. She knew he was right. As wrong and horrifically unjust as it was, Port Royale was a slave town, and she was the daughter of an ex-slave and a Spanish merchantman.
"Of course, I would run through the man that dared to lay his hands on you, no matter the consequence," he added in a soft voice. He approached her from behind and gently, but inarguably, turned her face round to his. "So to keep me out of jail, and away from the hangman's noose, please--"
"Latch the door," she finished for him.
Will touched the tip of her nose with his finger and placed his lips lightly to her forehead. He said a soft, "That's my girl," then moved back to the table to finish sorting out the food.
~~~
In the darkness of Will's room, the tiny kitten curled close to his body enjoying the heat radiated on the cool summer evening. Awake, he laid in the bed wondering what it was that had pulled him from his dream where he and Elizabeth danced. They had been at a grand ballroom, with dozens of Port Royale's elite looking on in admiration. In the darkness, above the creature's song that crept in his window, he could hear the melodious sounds of a harpsichord, drifting up from the downstairs sitting room.
The kitten meowed quietly when Will slipped from the bed dressed only in his breeches, and made his way down the stairs. An oil filled candle light the only thing guiding him through the darkness, to the room where the instrument was established. A light was on the table near it, at the bench, Sabine's fingers skillfully danced over the keys recreating a piece from Bach, or Purcell, or some dead composer. A white robe covered her gown, her thick black hair hung in one long braid to the middle of her back.
Will moved forward, his light joining hers to create dancing images against the wall. "Couldn't sleep?" he questioned sitting in a chair near enough to the piano so he could see her face.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
The statement was of course a complete lie. Sabine was well aware that Will was a light sleeper, and that the music would wake him. She wanted to talk to him, but now that he was with her, she didn't know what to say. Or more on target, what she wanted to say, wouldn't come out.
She had gone over it enough times in her head; thousands of different ways to admit her true feelings for him. In the darkness of her room she had worked up the courage over several days. In the candle light of the sitting room, with him standing dressed only in his brown trousers, her cowardice muted her.
She openly stared at his chest and wondered how Elizabeth could make the choice of Norrington over Will. Had she seen him like this? If she had, would she have still been walking down the same path? She forced her eyes up to his face, to his eyes. His olive skin, long kissed tan by the sun made her wonder if Will himself didn't hold Spanish blood in his veins. No other white man in Port Royale had his rich complexion, certainly no white man that spent most of his days indoors.
"Sabine?" Will called softly. "Sabine, what's the matter?"
Softly, she sighed and turned her attention back to the harpsichord. He has absolutely no idea.
"Nothing," she spoke, "I'm just worried about my father is all. I've had terrible dreams about him for the past two nights."
"I'm sure he's alright," her friend assured. He stood from the chair and moved to be seated on the bench next to her, his body turned in the opposite direction.
"I know, and that is what I keep telling myself, still... he should have been back by now. And I can't shake the feeling that something has happened to him. In my dreams he tells me that I must be strong," she shook her head, not wanting to reveal the rest to him.
"Well I know your father is an accomplished seaman, it would be--" his words trailed off as he shifted his body slightly.
Resting on the harpsichord, instead of sheet music was the opened invitation to Elizabeth's engagement party. Sabine followed his eyes and cursed herself internally for leaving the invite out. She reached for it, but Will's strong fingers beat her, as he opened it and read it quietly. She parted her lips to speak, but wasn't quiet sure what to say.
"Are you going?" he questioned setting the card back down, his eyes focusing on his hands in his lap.
She shook her head.
"Don't you want to?" he asked, surprised registering on his face and in his words.
"Yes, but... I don't belong there."
"Don't be silly, you belong there as much as anyone else."
"I am not part of that world," she pointed out, "Neither of us are."
"Says who?" he challenged,
Sabine blinked, "I beg your pardon?"
"It's them that say we don't belong there, but who are they to make that determination. Why should they dictate what is and isn't proper for us to do, just because they have more money, and feel that elevates them to a better status than us."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you– no– we should go."
"Are you mad?" she demanded even though a smile graced her lips.
"You do want to, don't you?"
"That is completely besides the point," she protested standing.
"Why?"
"You can't go."
"Why?" he repeated urgently.
"Because it is Elizabeth's engagement party," she stated plainly. She watched him, waiting for the realization of what he suggested come about but it never did. "She will be there, with her future husband."
"It would be rather pointless to have an engagement party and not have the future groom and bride there," he pointed out.
"Will," her voice softened, "You haven't seen her since... since she..." she paused trying to think of a delicate way to finish the statement.
"Since she ripped my heart from my chest?" he supplied.
"Si," she agreed with an accompanying nod.
"And that's why I want to go," he insisted. He retrieve the invitation, running a single finger over the wording. "I believe I am finally over her, but how will I know for certain unless I see her again."
"And you really think this is the best venue to test your strength of character?"
The blacksmith nodded and grinned. Sabine, however, still had her reservations.
"Oh come on, Sabine. You can wear that dress of your mother's that you found the other day, and make yourself look all pretty. You might even turn the eye of a promising young man. I know your father would like that, to see you happily married," he only partially teased.
The artist forced a smile, still not finding the courage again to tell him that she had already found a promising young man. She wondered how he could be so daft, he hadn't the slightest clue of her feelings. Maybe this will be the opportunity, she pondered. Maybe he will finally see me as a woman, and not just his friend.
"Very well," she caved.
He grinned, "Marvelous," he placed a soft kiss on her cheek and swatted her backside. "Now get to sleep, and no more bad dreams about your father. I'm sure he's fine."
He went back to the harpsichord and retrieved both of their candles, before again approaching and handing one to her. Sabine hesitated, before accepting it, her fingers glancing against the backs of his as she slipped her index into the carrying hole. With his hand on the small of her back, Will guided his friend from the room.
"Do you want me to sleep with you?"
"Will," Sabine was thankful the poor lighting and her dark complexion couldn't afford him to see the heated blush that stoked her cheeks. "We have not slept in the same bed since we were children. I hardly think it would be proper."
He tilted his head to the side, his brown eyes staring at hers with all the love and kindness in the world– for a friend.
"Do you think it would help keep your nightmares at bay?"
She didn't, and she meant to say as much. Meant to tell him to go back to his room and she would go back to hers, but she heard someone answer, "Yes," and only realized it was her, once Will pushed the door open and walked inside.
She sat her candle on the bedside table closest to her, the pulse in her throat hammering as she turned and saw her friend had already pulled back the white sheet and climb under it. He smiled at her, a grin that brought the dimple in his right cheek to life, but not a grin that a man would normally give a woman who was about to share his bed.
She didn't want him to give her the lecherous looks he accused the other men in town of passing her way, but she wouldn't have mind if his look had been, more threatening. Nothing was to happen, but he could have at least looked as if he were wishing something would. Instead, when Sabine climbed in to bed, she received a chaste kiss on the cheek, before Will turned on his side, and blew out his candle. With a soft sigh she followed his lead, right down to his position near the edge of the bed.