(OT: Yay! It is an ice day, not to be confused with a snow day, that just so happened to cancel school. Therefore, I had time to write a couple scenes and start on the next one. No promises if I will post that one today though. I will more than likely skip straight to the Isle Cruces instead of writing the Kraken attack. I mean, if I wrote the attack it would probably seem repetitive when it comes to emotions. Anywho, enjoy this one! I liked writing the one from Will's P.O.V.)
NOTE: This takes place shortly after the game of Liar's Dice. In my own world, I imagine that Davy Jones' and Will shared a few lines that were cut from the movie.Davy said that he only bets on the thing that a man holds the most dear to his heart and eventually concluded that it was a woman. From what I remember, Davy Jones sort of ridiculed Mr. Turner for loving a woman, but Will replied that it wasn't wrong as long as you love the right woman. Sorry I couldn't include that bit. I only wanted to if I could find the lines.
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"Who is she?" Bootstrap Bill lumbered beside his son, escorting Will about the Flying Dutchman's chambers shortly after their poignant game of Liar's Dice.
Will allowed his hand to graze the algae encrusted walls, expecting the substance to wipe onto his hands, but the green and brown slime was molded as a plaster. "Who?" he asked softly as the two men stepped around the hatch leading to an empty wine and rum cellar.
"The right woman that you chose."
"Oh," he paused, imagining his beloved's golden face for a moment. "She's the governor's daughter. Her name is Elizabeth."
"And you are set to marry her?"
Will lowered his voice, but faith in his mission resonated as he answered, "Yes, it is the reason I am after the key. It will save her."
Bootstrap grimaced; Will had revealed that Jack Sparrow had sent him aboard that reef-crashed vessel where he was pressganged into the crew, but Bill did not honestly believe that a single two-pronged key could save Will's damsel. He did not reply as he led Will up a short flight of stairs, passing by several snarling members. Bootstrap halted and leaned against a bare stretch of wall and inquired, "What's she like?"
His eyes glazed over in a dreamy stare, imagining the woman in her lovely gowns and in those silly knee-length breeches she wore during their fencing sessions. "Elizabeth is beautiful... And untamable, but I would not want it any other way." The man could not help grinning at the prospect of their marital felicity, but it soon vanished when he remembered that Elizabeth was still locked in a cell while the hangman's noose beckoned her name.
Bootstrap feebly spoke, his voice almost quivering. "And your mother... Where is she now?"
"You don't know?" Will shook his head. After all these years, and his father still believed Mrs. Turner was alive and well, prepared to bless the ceremony of one Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner. His mouth gaped open, but speech would not form as Bootstrap awkwardly crossed his arms, awaiting a merry update. When Will finally responded, his tone was sturdy with a furious heat beating beneath it. "She died when I was ten. During the winter, she contracted pneumonia and passed away a fortnight later." Will inhaled a wavering breath; once he had realized that his father turned pirate, the man had accepted the fact and partially blamed Bootstrap for all that happened. If his father hadn't departed under false pretenses, then his mother might still be alive. It was his fault that Will and his mother were forced to dismiss their servants (due to their minimum income) and tend to their needs day in and day out, working themselves until they collapsed in exhaustion.
Bootstrap's eyes descended to the floor. So that was it then. His wife had perished while he was roving the seas, drinking and cavorting whenever he pleased. "I am sorry, Will."
Will hissed, barely absorbing the apology. "Was becoming a pirate always your intent? Did you ever plan on returning?"
"Yes... And no. I started as an honest sailor, but pirating was effortless. With a spin of the dial I could alter my path, and so I did. Afterward, I knew I could never return to you and your mother." He said solemnly, swiveling around to lean around the bend of the wall. "Through there," he murmured to his son, "You will find Davy Jones." Waving for his son to move closer, Bootstrap pointed to the double doors, issuing a proposal tacitly.
Will leaned into the double doors, hearing the voluminous hum swell into a full blown tune and tinker up and down the various level of keys. The blacksmith nodded and the pair continued their journey through the interior of the Flying Dutchman, avoiding spectators.
"I will replace Greenbeard at the helm this evening so that you have a better chance of escaping." Bootstrap directed as they finally halted and seated themselves at a beaten forest-green table.
"Thank you for everything." Will replied gently. The singe had faded away, forgetting his earlier blame.
"It is the least I can do. You deserve a better fate than spending eternity on this ship."
Will nodded, reclining in the chair and glancing around the chamber. He would sure have a mouthful to supply Jack, he thought, scowling at the pirate's devilish way of, once again, using his devotion to Elizabeth as a successful ploy. The man drummed his fingers on the tabletop as his father exited, called upon by the Bo'sun.
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Elizabeth retorted, "I don't know what you mean." Of course she knew what James was referring to. She had been contemplating those haughty, ridiculous comments that emerged from Jack Sparrow's lips only moments before. He was so cleverly annoying and those memories of the fiery night on the island clouded her thoughts. He always caught her off guard even when she thought she was entirely prepared.
Norrington scoffed at the woman's innocent response. "Oh, I think you do."
"Oh, don't be absurd." She claimed, now willingly admitting the truth that she was indeed thinking about the captain's suave ways. She announced, "I trust him, that's all."
James chuckled and began to stroll away, but he paused at the mast, inquiring with a smug smile, "So you never wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place?"
Elizabeth's lips pursed together, unable to respond and wondering what in the world he meant. She did not desire Jack, but that fleeting suggestive comment from Norrington led her to finger the contraption that dangled on her belt. She wanted Will. She wanted to wed her wonderful man and feel the warmth of his body every night. And yet... Her heart thudded as she removed the compass from her belt and flipped it open. The crimson dial vibrated, hesitated, and then twirled to the helm, where Jack viewed his surroundings through the spyglass, his head slightly tilted back.
Her heart wanted Jack.
Elizabeth nearly squealed as she flicked the tool closed and attached it onto her brown belt once again. No, she thought, her mind shrieking, Will is my fiancé. I love him. I love him. She bit her lip and was tempted to open the compass for a second time. Jack suddenly caught her impetuous gaze and casted a self-satisfied smile to the woman. He then opened the flap of his navy-blue jacket, trailing his fingers along the letters of marque and then returning his gaze to the sea. With fists clenched, she ducked her head and charged into the cabin. This was not what she wanted. She loved Will. She wanted to marry him. She did, didn't she?
(Sorry, another vital note that I must include for my own purposes. This is straightly from Elizabeth's vantage point. She believes that the compass is pointing at Jack because she wants him, but in reality (in my opinion that is), the compass dial was pointing to the letters of marque, which in turn could easily save Will. Thus, the compass did not point to the physical Jack, but perhaps what he represents and what is inside of his jacket.)