Nothing belongs to me. Just to Disney. Darn.

This is AU and takes place after The Curse of the Black Pearl sometime.

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Captain Misty Malloy

Of the pirate vessel The Tempest

The Caribbean

May 11, 1737

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This is a tale of high sea adventure and piracy.

A story of cunning and deception.

A story of passion, hope, and love.

Who would have thought pirates to be capable of love?

This is a story of star-crossed lovers.

This is a story of two people, who could never have imagined what they would gain or what they would have to go through to keep it.

This is a pirate's story.

This is my story.

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Perhaps I should clarify a bit before I begin. Although that did sound nice and pretty. Including my tribute to Master William Shakespeare, amazing playwright that he is. Anyhow, I am sure and certain you have heard of me if you have ever been near the ocean in your life; however, on the off chance you have not, I am a female pirate captain known for her ruthlessness, daring, skill, cunning, fantastically stunning looks, and...well, I am sure there will be plenty of time to discuss my qualities later. I suppose this will be clearer if I start at the beginning.

My real name is Katalina Summers. I was born in England, the daughter of a wealthy merchant. My father owned multiple ships. My mother died from illness when I was very young, which left me alone with the stingy miser. Saying that my father loved money is like saying a dying man in the desert loves an oasis. He worshipped it. Hoarded it. Married it. Well, technically he did in fact marry my mother. But only for her hefty dowry. Hell, he would have eaten money if he could. Now that I think about it I am fairly surprised he did not. He would have gotten it back eventually. Not that I want to think about that. And sure, you may be thinking, ha, look whose talking. Seeing as how I am a pirate and all. But trust me when I say, my father cared for nothing else. I care for a lot of things. My crew. My ship. Watching the sunrise, with the smell of the salt air awakening the senses and the cold ocean breeze awakening, um, me. The thrill of pulling off a successful ruse and plundering a ship just ripe for the taking. See, pirate or not, I love a lot of things unrelated to money. Well. Actually, I suppose the last one could be said to sort of relate. Anyways, getting back on the track to the topic at hand, which is…um…right, which is that my father was obsessive. His love of money actually worked out well for me until about age ten. He spent a lot of time on his ships, overseeing the cargoes they brought in, and planning ways to make more money. You know, plans like 'hey, if I just forbid scurvy on my ships, I will not have to waste money on fruits'. Schemes that always worked out so incredibly well. I think it should be fairly obvious that my father had to hire new crew members quite often. But in my younger years, he decided the cost of keeping me alive at home was too much. So he took me on his voyages with him rather than hire a governess for me. And I was glad. It was on those trips that I developed my love of the sea and my thirst the travel to the far reaches of the world. I also developed an understanding of ships and navigation. Having nothing to do, I spent my time with the crew learning to do everything from tying knots to climbing the rigging. The crew also began instructing me in basic combat skills as soon as I was capable of holding a knife. I became a fairly good shot with a pistol, and won a fair few competitions. (As excellent as I am sure my skills were, I am equally sure that the crew let me win. Skinny nine year old girls are not typically capable of defeating a brawny sailor in a wrestling match).

Like all good things, my delightful childhood experiences came to an abrupt end shortly after my eleventh birthday. At that point my father realized I was in fact, a girl, and in fact, did not act anything like one. The tyrant decided I should become a lady. Despite my opinions on the matter. Despite my kicking and screaming. And when I say kicking, I mean as in, I kicked him. In a place which he was not too pleased about. And which sealed my fate of never setting off to sea in one of his ships again. Ah well, the look on his face was rather worth it.

So he left me behind while he sailed all the world over. I had learned practical things like reading, writing, accounting, and map reading while on board ships. Now I had governess to teach me worthless horse dung, like penmanship and manners. Table manner, party manners, shopping manners, traveling manners. I swear there were manners for everything. I would rather have been learning things like 'how to hold your liquor'. But I do not think drinking liquor was included in 'good manners'. I also learned so much about fashion I would have preferred to wear sackcloth and ashes for the rest of my life. Or pants.

I hope you do not think I took this lying down. On the contrary, my life was in a constant state of rebellion. I continued honing my fighting techniques. One of the grooms in the stable was a skilled sword fighter. I learned from him, and others on the staff. My governess never noticed a thing. She was not the brightest. She certainly was not the best money could buy. As if my father would go for anything but the best he could get with the scant amount he was willing to spend. So it went on like this for years: my father away doing who-knows-what caring about me not at all, my governess teaching me to be a lady, and me doing just the opposite right under her nose.

At the age of sixteen I realized the point of it all. My father's plan was to marry me off. And obviously, a dowry was unthinkable. I would in fact be going to the highest bidder. What was the point of me if I could not fetch a price just like everything else in his life?

I can assure you, this plan was not appealing to me. I had no desire for an arranged marriage of any sort. Believe it or not, I was at this point in my life, a hopeless romantic. If I had to marry, it would be for love. However, I failed miserably to dissuade my father from this. It seemed I was doomed to a horrible marriage.

Unless of course I took matters into my own hands.

Which is precisely what I did two years later.

My father had finally found the perfect suitor for me. Perfect in that he was the highest bidder in the Katalina Summers market. The situation could not have been worse. He was fifty-seven, bald, toothless, wrinkly, covered in pus-filled boils, and, well, perhaps I exaggerate a bit, but he really was atrocious. He was also notorious in the village we lived in. His two previous wives had both died of unknown causes. But everyone knew he had beaten them. Whether he actually killed them or whether they were too weak to resist subsequent illness I do not know. And I was not going to find out. Although I now laugh when I think about the surprise he would have gotten if I had married him. I do not think he would know what to do with a wife that hit back.

At this point, my respect for my father was at an all time low. Although I am not certain how it got lower than before. But the point is, I could not stand to be around the greedy and uncaring bastard any longer. And I sure as hell was not ever going to be around the old suitor. So I took the most logical solution and ran with it. Ran away is more like it. To the Caribbean to be more specific.

Which was perhaps not the most logical of plans. I was eighteen and beautiful (according to people I know. I am not that arrogant. Really.) which would make me the perfect target to be assaulted by every member of the male species I came across. I was also without a job or specific destination or plan, and no one I could turn to for help. Although, the money I borrowed (ha! stole) from my father before I left helped quite a bit in this regard. I was also skilled in combat, sailing, navigation, ladylike crap, and other practical things I had learned. I was also spirited and clever, if I do say so myself.

And now I can safely say that running away was the best decision I ever made. Ever. In my life. Savvy?