"Downfall"

Work: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters: Gillette/Norrington
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13

ElvenPirate41 stopped throwing confetti around upon seeing her next hapless reader enter the room. "Ahoy!" she cried, handing the bucket to a random minion. "Look! It's Gillette/Norry slash! Bah-hah!" Meanwhile, Gríma the Muse was looking quite sulky. "There's no need to be jealous!" said EP comfortingly. "I still love you the most!"
"It's not even my fandom!" Gríma whined. "I'm the muse, so I should get to pick what you write about! I want you to write about me!"
"Yeah, well, I wish that Hugo Weaving would come give me a lap dance, but that's not going to happen... so suck it up!" EP shouted. "The sooner this gets out of my head, the sooner I'll write more about you. Just do the forking disclaimer, will you?"
"She doesn't own this stuff," Gríma said in a singsong voice that was not at all becoming. "And she never ever will. I'll see to that..." he muttered, while throwing darts at a picture of Gillette.

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She has destroyed him.

She is a beautiful girl, yes, but a shameless tease. Ever since she came of age, ever since it was proper for a man of his stature to love such a girl, he was attracted to her. He never said so, but I knew it. When she would pass by he would watch her, shyly return her greeting of "Good day," and then follow her with his eyes as she continued, often staring at a corner she disappeared around for minutes at a time until someone brought him back to earth. She regarded him coolly, as if she were better than everyone else. If ever she noticed how endeared he was of her, not once did she reveal it. She tortured him with her looks, her wicked grin, and her cold, ridiculous way of making him feel like nothing.

I think the only reason he retained any semblance of normalcy was his second love, his work. He was wholly dedicated to keeping Port Royale free of crime; my James – yes, for such a long time I have thought of him as mine – was and is the selfless type.

I admired him, looked up to him, loved him as a leader, loved him as more. He probably had never looked twice in my direction save to give an order, as I was just a lieutenant, but he was everything to me. I suppose it was inevitable that a good, handsome man like James would someday find a beautiful wife, but still I hoped for the longest time that he would notice me.

It was his undoing.

She accepted his proposal – or so everyone thought. James loved Elizabeth deeply, and while I was happy that he had found someone, I was also incredibly jealous. I had not, of course, expected him to suddenly come to me one day with confessions of love, and yet I had always had my little fantasies and daydreams in which he did exactly that. I had kept my hopes up, though, until she came along and shattered them.
But I make it out to be worse than it was. It was not all that terrible for me, because at least I got to see my James smile again. He is such a serious man, and I fear that this sight was a rare one. He was the happiest I ever saw him once he was assured that Elizabeth was not simply leading him on to get what she wanted. There was an unfamiliar spring in his step despite the peril we were about to face, and he cast happy glances at her when he thought no one was watching.

The worst was yet to come.

When she chose Turner over James, I watched as his face fell and he suddenly looked crushed. He maintained a calm appearance until he left, saying that he would allow Sparrow one day's head start.

I would bet everything I own that Elizabeth has no idea what he did on that one day.

He went home with fists clenched and face set, and remained inside all day, simply sitting in his favorite chair. He did not eat, he did not sleep, he did not move. I tried to pay him a visit in the hopes that I could talk to him and perhaps cheer him up a bit, but his butler sternly told me that his master was very upset and was not taking any visitors. I wheedled a bit of information out of the man regarding James' activities – or lack thereof – that day, but he still would not let me in.

The next day we set sail; we are still at sea now. James' face is grim and he speaks to no one except to order a change in directions or an adjusting of the sails. He stays in his cabin for most of the day, and takes his meals there as well. When I bring them to him he offers a thin smile and a curt thank you. He will not discuss Elizabeth, and I cannot say how long it will be before he can.

She has destroyed him, has stolen his heart and left him empty, and I hate her for it, for to me it is the most heinous act of piracy that anyone can commit.

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"Your thoughts, my dears?" EP41 said with a winning smile. "You know you want to review."
Grima began to not-so-subtly move over to EP and jab her in the side. "Write about meeee now," he whined.
EP tossed him a cracker and did her best to oblige.