Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Pirates of the
Caribbean. This is for my own pleasure...although it would be pretty nice
to have
A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter One
Annabelle's dark eyes opened to the sunlight pouring into her room. The sun had just risen and its bright rays were stirring the sleeping household of Norrington to awaken and begin their day. She closed her eyes again, inhaling deeply the scent of the ocean wafting through her open window. She greeted the mornings in the same way she had every day for nearly seven years. She pushed herself out of bed and moved toward the window, wishing from there she could see the ocean. But the sounds of the waves were enough to calm her, assuring her that even though she could not see it, it was still there.
With a sigh she turned away walking toward her wash basin. Another night, the same dream...
Tirelessly over the vast bright blue sea flew a bird. The wind underneath its wings and the sun on its feathers seemed to fuel its energy to keep it flying. Its wings pumped harder and harder until it soared high overhead. It never tired. It never searched for a place to land. It only needed the open air and the ocean.
She'd only begun to have the dream for a few weeks now. Her memory was still a blur as it was when she first arrived in Port Royale but pieces had over time connected themselves like parts to a large puzzle. But the dream of the bird was something she couldn't seem to place. Yet it seemed so familiar to her. It drove her mad that she couldn't remember everything. And it was beginning to cost her a good night's sleep. Commodore Norrington had told her that she suffered a serious blow to hear head when she was just thirteen. He found her aboard a ship. He never told her the name of it. Only that it had been destroyed long ago.
She barely remembered being on the ship but she knew it had to do with her mother. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her. Only recently had memories of her mother surfaced. She remembered bits and pieces from Spain, living with their cousin Frida, swimming...but that was all. The rest was just too muddled to sort through.
It was one of the many mysteries in her life. Another one being that of her father. As far as she could remember, she never knew him. There were hints of her mother telling tales of him. But it was another thing her mind had locked away long ago. Yet she felt that the connection with the bird was something to do with it. After washing she dressed and moved to her mirror.
She had to admit that living as maid in the Norrington household was far better than a life on the streets would have been. She had her own room, a fairly nice room at that. It was nicer than the room she lived in the white house in Spain, larger too. But deep in her heart she knew that it wasn't home to her.
"We'll have nothing to worry about, Annie. Just us and the open sea."
Where had that come from? She wondered. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Images of a rust colored sunset...and a ship gliding toward it. The warmth of whispered words on her ear...and then...nothing. Annabelle huffed in frustration. It seemed that ever time she got close to remembering something her mind would shut its doors to her.
She picked up the brush and began to go through her dark, black hair. She could easily see her mother's image looking back at her from her reflection. Yet, she noticed that some features were there that simply did not remind her of her mother at all. Looking deeply at her image she tried to find an image of her father. But it was all in vain. She had never seen the man; there was nothing to go by.
"Annabelle, you silly girl." She muttered to herself aloud. "You have work to do." She quickly finished her hair, tucking it back into a braid, before tucking all of it under the maid's cap she wore. Standing up she walked towards the kitchens to help prepare breakfast. She never felt comfortable in the dress Norrington had provided for her. But she was a woman, he told her, and that was how a woman dressed when she complained the breeches were much more comfortable. She had grown used to petticoats and full skirts but she never liked them.
Making her way to the kitchens, she saw a few of the other maids and servants already awake and preparing for the day. One of them being Clara: an older woman who looked after Annabelle and resided as the head of the Norrington Household. She smiled warmly before shoving a plate of food in Annabelle's hands. "Eat quickly, my dear. We have quite a few things to do this morning." Annabelle nodded while sitting down to eat.
She watched Clara bark orders to some of the lazier workers. She was in no mood for trouble today. The lady of the house was in a bad mood therefore everyone else suffered a foul disposition too. Though many saw Clara as a slave driver, Annabelle saw her as a hard worker. That is how Annabelle viewed her ever since she first came to her new home.
Annabelle was distraught over the sudden change in her life. Her memory in pieces and feeling so utterly alone she was quick to tears at any given moment. But Clara took her aside, comforted her and told her that if she was going to get over this she needed to dry her eyes and get to work. While not the gentlest of words, they served their purpose.
"I see you woke late again this morning. This will not do, miss." She reprimanded gently.
"I'm sorry, Clara. I had a bit of trouble sleeping." She admitted quietly. She never told anyone about the dreams.
Clara sighed shaking her head. "Be that as it may, the household still wakes with the sun every morning, my dear. You cannot sleep in while the rest of us are working!" Giving Annabelle a smile, she removed the empty plate. "And it's going to be another long day, I'm afraid. Mrs. Norrington is in one of her moods."
Annabelle resisted the urge to groan. She moved to her feet and was immediately handed a tray. "So, I take it Mr. Norrington is taking breakfast in his study again?" She asked. Clara nodded.
"What do you expect? He'd rather eat alone that have another row with that woman. She has the forked tongue of a snake she does." Clara whispered. If any of the other servants heard her speak like Clara would easily live to regret it.
Still holding the tray, Annabelle waited until Clara finished arranging everything before she was pushed out the door.
"Go on, child. See if you can cheer him up a bit. You know the effect you have on him." Clara walked hurriedly back into the kitchen leaving Annabelle alone in the hall. With a sigh she began walking towards the study. While she admitted that Commodore Norrington showed a gentler side to her than he did with others, his temper paid no attention to who it targeted.
Gathering her strength she knocked on his door. "Mr. Norrington, sir?" She called shyly.
"What is it?" He practically roared from inside. Annabelle found herself shrinking back away from the door.
"I have your breakfast tray." She half expected him to shout a dismissal from his door step.
"Very well, you may enter." He called, the patience waning from his voice.
Cautiously, she opened the door and stepped inside. His back was toward her and he made no move to even acknowledge her presence. Oh my, this can't be good...she thought as she arranged the tray on a small side table. He'd usually speak to her when she walked into the room, even if he was angry.
While she removed the lid to his plate and poured his coffee she wondered what could have happened between him and Mrs. Norrington. It seemed they were just ill matched for each other. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't fighting over something or other. And the boys had only gotten caught in the middle most of the time. However, despite how unstable the family seemed no one could accuse Norrington of being an unloving father. He doted on his two sons as any father should.
Annabelle sighed and looked over at him. His figure was bent over his desk, deeply engrossed in the paper work before him. Despite their social positions Norrington had always treated her with respect and kindness. Unless of course he was around his wife who couldn't fathom how her husband would associate so beneath his status. Servants were to be seen and not heard in her opinion. When Annabelle first arrived she made it quite clear how displeased she was with her husband's idea of charity.
"My dear, if you please would remove your head from the clouds." Norrington's voice jolted her from her musings and she nearly knocked over the pitcher on the tray. Blushing, she looked down at her feet.
"Begging your pardon, sir." She replied quietly.
She heard him release a small sigh and chanced a look at him. He was standing before her with an expression of mild irritation and slight concern. "Where is your mind this morning, Annabelle?" He asked moving to seat himself in front of the food. She moved away, fearing anymore movement close to the tray would send the entire thing to the floor.
She shot him a shy smile. "Where it always is, sir." He returns the smile before moving for his coffee.
"In the air, of course. My, however do you manage to complete your chores before the day is over?" He asks teasingly.
"With much concentration." She replies in mock distress.
"So it would seem. Now what's this I hear about your lack of sleep during the night?"
Stunned, Annabelle frowned questioningly at him. How could he know? Then it dawned on her. Clara must have told him. Since she was young there was worry of permanent damage to her mind. When she arrived at the household Clara was assigned to keep watch of her in case anything was to happen, anything that would warrant medical help. Some habits never change.
She bit her bottom lip, a habit she'd always had when she wanted to hide something. "It's nothing, sir. I'm sure Clara means well but there is nothing to worry about." She replied, hoping he didn't see through her. Of course, he did.
"Lying does not become you, Annabelle, besides you're terrible at it." His face was stern but his words were gentle. With a sigh she cast her gaze away from his prying eyes to the window and to the distant sea.
"Truly, sir, I suffer from no maladies...just the reoccurrence of a dream only." A dream indeed. A dream she'd revisited night after night for nearly two weeks. Norrington studied her. Her posture was rigid meaning she did not want to pursue the subject matter further. He allowed it to slide.
"Very well, never the less you must make sure you get some rest during the night." He chided softly. It was at moments like these that Annabelle felt something tug inside her. She was his maid yet he made her feel as if titles were not important. He cared for her like she was one of his own.
"Will you be needing anything more of me, sir?" She asked, ready to go about her work.
"Indeed I do, Annabelle. I have a sword order that is waiting for me at the smithy. As it is I am unable to go there myself, I'll need you to go for me. The payment is on my desk there." He ordered, returning to his meal.
"Of course, I shall go right away." He nodded her dismissal and she walked out of the study with the money in hand.
Her thoughts went back to her mysterious father again. She knew the only way for her to ever find out anything about her past was to seek him out. And to do that she needed to convince Norrington that she needed to leave. But how would she do that? What would she say? Would he even let her leave? Shaking her head she tucked the money away in her purse then made her way to the smithy.
AN: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. Your words are a great encouragement to me, thank you! I'm still trying to figure out this site, so far I think I have it down but I noticed that some of the formatting is a little messy, please be patient with me! Again, constructive criticism is always welcome. ~Anlei~
A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter One
Annabelle's dark eyes opened to the sunlight pouring into her room. The sun had just risen and its bright rays were stirring the sleeping household of Norrington to awaken and begin their day. She closed her eyes again, inhaling deeply the scent of the ocean wafting through her open window. She greeted the mornings in the same way she had every day for nearly seven years. She pushed herself out of bed and moved toward the window, wishing from there she could see the ocean. But the sounds of the waves were enough to calm her, assuring her that even though she could not see it, it was still there.
With a sigh she turned away walking toward her wash basin. Another night, the same dream...
Tirelessly over the vast bright blue sea flew a bird. The wind underneath its wings and the sun on its feathers seemed to fuel its energy to keep it flying. Its wings pumped harder and harder until it soared high overhead. It never tired. It never searched for a place to land. It only needed the open air and the ocean.
She'd only begun to have the dream for a few weeks now. Her memory was still a blur as it was when she first arrived in Port Royale but pieces had over time connected themselves like parts to a large puzzle. But the dream of the bird was something she couldn't seem to place. Yet it seemed so familiar to her. It drove her mad that she couldn't remember everything. And it was beginning to cost her a good night's sleep. Commodore Norrington had told her that she suffered a serious blow to hear head when she was just thirteen. He found her aboard a ship. He never told her the name of it. Only that it had been destroyed long ago.
She barely remembered being on the ship but she knew it had to do with her mother. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her. Only recently had memories of her mother surfaced. She remembered bits and pieces from Spain, living with their cousin Frida, swimming...but that was all. The rest was just too muddled to sort through.
It was one of the many mysteries in her life. Another one being that of her father. As far as she could remember, she never knew him. There were hints of her mother telling tales of him. But it was another thing her mind had locked away long ago. Yet she felt that the connection with the bird was something to do with it. After washing she dressed and moved to her mirror.
She had to admit that living as maid in the Norrington household was far better than a life on the streets would have been. She had her own room, a fairly nice room at that. It was nicer than the room she lived in the white house in Spain, larger too. But deep in her heart she knew that it wasn't home to her.
"We'll have nothing to worry about, Annie. Just us and the open sea."
Where had that come from? She wondered. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Images of a rust colored sunset...and a ship gliding toward it. The warmth of whispered words on her ear...and then...nothing. Annabelle huffed in frustration. It seemed that ever time she got close to remembering something her mind would shut its doors to her.
She picked up the brush and began to go through her dark, black hair. She could easily see her mother's image looking back at her from her reflection. Yet, she noticed that some features were there that simply did not remind her of her mother at all. Looking deeply at her image she tried to find an image of her father. But it was all in vain. She had never seen the man; there was nothing to go by.
"Annabelle, you silly girl." She muttered to herself aloud. "You have work to do." She quickly finished her hair, tucking it back into a braid, before tucking all of it under the maid's cap she wore. Standing up she walked towards the kitchens to help prepare breakfast. She never felt comfortable in the dress Norrington had provided for her. But she was a woman, he told her, and that was how a woman dressed when she complained the breeches were much more comfortable. She had grown used to petticoats and full skirts but she never liked them.
Making her way to the kitchens, she saw a few of the other maids and servants already awake and preparing for the day. One of them being Clara: an older woman who looked after Annabelle and resided as the head of the Norrington Household. She smiled warmly before shoving a plate of food in Annabelle's hands. "Eat quickly, my dear. We have quite a few things to do this morning." Annabelle nodded while sitting down to eat.
She watched Clara bark orders to some of the lazier workers. She was in no mood for trouble today. The lady of the house was in a bad mood therefore everyone else suffered a foul disposition too. Though many saw Clara as a slave driver, Annabelle saw her as a hard worker. That is how Annabelle viewed her ever since she first came to her new home.
Annabelle was distraught over the sudden change in her life. Her memory in pieces and feeling so utterly alone she was quick to tears at any given moment. But Clara took her aside, comforted her and told her that if she was going to get over this she needed to dry her eyes and get to work. While not the gentlest of words, they served their purpose.
"I see you woke late again this morning. This will not do, miss." She reprimanded gently.
"I'm sorry, Clara. I had a bit of trouble sleeping." She admitted quietly. She never told anyone about the dreams.
Clara sighed shaking her head. "Be that as it may, the household still wakes with the sun every morning, my dear. You cannot sleep in while the rest of us are working!" Giving Annabelle a smile, she removed the empty plate. "And it's going to be another long day, I'm afraid. Mrs. Norrington is in one of her moods."
Annabelle resisted the urge to groan. She moved to her feet and was immediately handed a tray. "So, I take it Mr. Norrington is taking breakfast in his study again?" She asked. Clara nodded.
"What do you expect? He'd rather eat alone that have another row with that woman. She has the forked tongue of a snake she does." Clara whispered. If any of the other servants heard her speak like Clara would easily live to regret it.
Still holding the tray, Annabelle waited until Clara finished arranging everything before she was pushed out the door.
"Go on, child. See if you can cheer him up a bit. You know the effect you have on him." Clara walked hurriedly back into the kitchen leaving Annabelle alone in the hall. With a sigh she began walking towards the study. While she admitted that Commodore Norrington showed a gentler side to her than he did with others, his temper paid no attention to who it targeted.
Gathering her strength she knocked on his door. "Mr. Norrington, sir?" She called shyly.
"What is it?" He practically roared from inside. Annabelle found herself shrinking back away from the door.
"I have your breakfast tray." She half expected him to shout a dismissal from his door step.
"Very well, you may enter." He called, the patience waning from his voice.
Cautiously, she opened the door and stepped inside. His back was toward her and he made no move to even acknowledge her presence. Oh my, this can't be good...she thought as she arranged the tray on a small side table. He'd usually speak to her when she walked into the room, even if he was angry.
While she removed the lid to his plate and poured his coffee she wondered what could have happened between him and Mrs. Norrington. It seemed they were just ill matched for each other. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't fighting over something or other. And the boys had only gotten caught in the middle most of the time. However, despite how unstable the family seemed no one could accuse Norrington of being an unloving father. He doted on his two sons as any father should.
Annabelle sighed and looked over at him. His figure was bent over his desk, deeply engrossed in the paper work before him. Despite their social positions Norrington had always treated her with respect and kindness. Unless of course he was around his wife who couldn't fathom how her husband would associate so beneath his status. Servants were to be seen and not heard in her opinion. When Annabelle first arrived she made it quite clear how displeased she was with her husband's idea of charity.
"My dear, if you please would remove your head from the clouds." Norrington's voice jolted her from her musings and she nearly knocked over the pitcher on the tray. Blushing, she looked down at her feet.
"Begging your pardon, sir." She replied quietly.
She heard him release a small sigh and chanced a look at him. He was standing before her with an expression of mild irritation and slight concern. "Where is your mind this morning, Annabelle?" He asked moving to seat himself in front of the food. She moved away, fearing anymore movement close to the tray would send the entire thing to the floor.
She shot him a shy smile. "Where it always is, sir." He returns the smile before moving for his coffee.
"In the air, of course. My, however do you manage to complete your chores before the day is over?" He asks teasingly.
"With much concentration." She replies in mock distress.
"So it would seem. Now what's this I hear about your lack of sleep during the night?"
Stunned, Annabelle frowned questioningly at him. How could he know? Then it dawned on her. Clara must have told him. Since she was young there was worry of permanent damage to her mind. When she arrived at the household Clara was assigned to keep watch of her in case anything was to happen, anything that would warrant medical help. Some habits never change.
She bit her bottom lip, a habit she'd always had when she wanted to hide something. "It's nothing, sir. I'm sure Clara means well but there is nothing to worry about." She replied, hoping he didn't see through her. Of course, he did.
"Lying does not become you, Annabelle, besides you're terrible at it." His face was stern but his words were gentle. With a sigh she cast her gaze away from his prying eyes to the window and to the distant sea.
"Truly, sir, I suffer from no maladies...just the reoccurrence of a dream only." A dream indeed. A dream she'd revisited night after night for nearly two weeks. Norrington studied her. Her posture was rigid meaning she did not want to pursue the subject matter further. He allowed it to slide.
"Very well, never the less you must make sure you get some rest during the night." He chided softly. It was at moments like these that Annabelle felt something tug inside her. She was his maid yet he made her feel as if titles were not important. He cared for her like she was one of his own.
"Will you be needing anything more of me, sir?" She asked, ready to go about her work.
"Indeed I do, Annabelle. I have a sword order that is waiting for me at the smithy. As it is I am unable to go there myself, I'll need you to go for me. The payment is on my desk there." He ordered, returning to his meal.
"Of course, I shall go right away." He nodded her dismissal and she walked out of the study with the money in hand.
Her thoughts went back to her mysterious father again. She knew the only way for her to ever find out anything about her past was to seek him out. And to do that she needed to convince Norrington that she needed to leave. But how would she do that? What would she say? Would he even let her leave? Shaking her head she tucked the money away in her purse then made her way to the smithy.
AN: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. Your words are a great encouragement to me, thank you! I'm still trying to figure out this site, so far I think I have it down but I noticed that some of the formatting is a little messy, please be patient with me! Again, constructive criticism is always welcome. ~Anlei~