Disclamer: Believe me, I do not own POTC or any of its characters. I would love to, but, since life is cruel, I must content doing this, and waiting for the 11th of August (release day of DMC in Spain)
Summary: A series of one-shots about the moment of birth of the characters in POTC
Birth:
Pronunciation: 'b&rth
Function: noun
Usage: often attributive
Etymology: Middle English, from Old Norse byrth; akin to Old English beran
1 a : the emergence of a new individual from the body of its parent b : the act or process of bringing forth young from the womb
2 : a state resulting from being born especially at a particular time or place a Southerner by birth
3 a : LINEAGE, EXTRACTION marriage between equals in birth b : high or noble birth
4 a archaic : one that is born b : BEGINNING, START the birth of an idea
Merriam Webster online dictionary
Hector Barbossa:
- A boy, Moira, it's been a boy!
But, Moira didn't answer. With the baby in my arms, I went to see what happened to her, while the midwife continued with the work.
- Moira?- I asked her.
She looked pale… Very pale:
-Tessa- she said, with an almost imperceptible voice- Please, take care of the baby… You've been too good with me, but now, I've got to ask you for a last favour… take care of him…
- But Moira, you're his mother. You've to be strong…
- No, Tessa, it's too late… I know I'll not live to see the lad growing up… Lord knows I won't even live to see the day of tomorrow…
- No, Moira, please, don't leave us…Don't leave him…
But it was too late. Moira was dead. She was dead, and she left me with a newborn child…
He was crying, more and more, as if he knew that his mother had already left him, and he was alone.
But he wasn't. Tessa McKinnon always stays true to her promises, and I wasn't going to leave him… I took him, wrapped him in some clothes, and went out of the room. Juan, my boyfriend was there:
- What's happening, Tessa?- he asked, noticing my sad face
- Moira is dead…- I said, beginning to cry, with the boy in my arms..- She's dead, Juan, and I couldn't do anything…
- Oh, dear…- He said- I'm sorry for the loss…
- She has told me to take care of the baby…- I said, while I was sitting- But I don't even know of how to name him…
Juan seemed to think for a moment…
- What about Hector?
- Hector?
- It was the name of a prince a long time ago. He defended his city from the greek invasion, and, thought, even knowing he had no opportunity to survive, he fighted against one of the greek leaders. He was the bravest of all the princes of Troy, and when he died, he was given a funeral proper of a hero.
A name of a prince… Well, he wasn't a prince, he was now my adoptive son and I was a simple bar wench. But I liked the idea.
Hector, my little prince…