Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, William Turners I, II and III and all other original PotC characters do NOT belong to me. All of their offspring and other original characters, as well as the storyline and plot, are (c) Lady Asvin - me.
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"Will!" The younger William Turner's wife waddled to him as quickly as she could, relief evident in all her features. A distended pregnant belly had her maneuvering carefully to walk through the apartment without hitting anything.
"It's fine," murmured Will, patting his wife's head. "I'm fine." The girl's shoulders were shaking.
"You didn't come home for so long," she said quietly. "I thought – well, anything could have happened – did you find your sister?" The younger William shook his head angrily. He brushed past his wife to plunk himself down gracelessly on a wooden chair before the hearth.
"Stupid gypsy girl," he muttered. "Stupid fascination with the sea." He turned to his expectant wife, watching as shadows from a lantern cast shadows across her face.
"She got herself stranded on the ship," he explained testily. "The one that hasn't been around Port Royal since I was a boy of eight. And of course, mother went chasing after the little fool." Expecting empathy from his wife, Will was shocked and not a little angry when he saw the piercing glare coming from across the apartment.
"What, Katrina?" he asked, losing patience after such a trying day. Her twenty-year-old shoulders stiffened and her eyes narrowed.
"I hope," she said, voice trembling, "I hope when our child is born, nobody ever – ever! – refers to him or her as a fool or a gypsy!" She lifted herself heavily from the chair in which she had been sitting and turned her back to him.
"Nobody should ever have a reason to," he replied tartly, and instantly regretted the words. His wife's shoulders sagged, and he could hear muffled sobs stifled against a handkerchief. Sighing, the younger Will crossed the room in three paces and embraced his wife, lifting her chin to place a gentle kiss on her curved lips.
"It's been a trying day," he murmured against her mouth. "Forgive me." Katrina unleashed the full power of her amber eyes on him.
"Only if you promise to love me," she said quietly, and William tightened his hold. Against her stomach, and his, because of their position, he felt the infant give a decisive kick.
"Come to bed," said the woman, and William followed willingly.
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It was near midnight when Elizabeth's and Madeleine's shift ended. Soaked, cold, and worn out, the women made their way to the hammocks without so much as a grunt. Both of their palms were raw with rope burn; Madeleine's lips were cracked from dehydration, and Elizabeth's were openly bleeding in places. Joaquin looked on them with sympathy.
"Would you like me to get Fahzeri?" he asked, pausing before he settled down on his hammock. "He's the closest thing the Pearl has to a real doctor." Elizabeth shook her head.
"Sleep," she said. "We all need our energy for next shift. I'll tend to Madeleine." The boy nodded and threw himself into the hammock; he was snoring before it stopped swaying.
"Come on Maddie," said the woman tiredly. "Let's see if there's a pot of boiling water in the galley." The battered women made their way slowly to the ship's belly; upon reaching the galley, they discovered that the room was abandoned save for a rat gnawing on a cheese rind. The rat was unperturbed by the women; perhaps it's someone's pet, thought Madeleine abstractly. Elizabeth scraped grime out of a pot and filled it with water from a barrel, setting it to boil. Struck again by her mother's confident motions, Madeleine recalled now that her mother had promised her a story, and that she may not have another chance to hear it until they had returned to Port Royal.
"Mum," she began hesitantly, "I think it's time you told me what's going on." A feeling creeping along Elizabeth's spine had told her the curious girl would want to know at that specific moment; even so, Elizabeth debated the telling of her secret. In part, she thought, because it will destroy the trust she has in me. And in part… her thoughts trailed off. In part because she may want to leave me. Elizabeth turned, weary, and motioned her daughter to sit down on the three-legged wooden chair next to the fire pit. She herself leaned against a damp wooden wall.
"The first thing you need to know," said Elizabeth, "is that I love William Turner, I love him very much." She bit down on her lip, breaking through a newly-formed scab and drawing blood. Her daughter looked at her intently; the pot in the fire pit spluttered.
"And we have been through so much together," she continued. "We've been to the ends of the earth together, you know, and… and fought against things, things so strange…" she trailed off, and Madeleine wondered privately if the stress of the day had affected her thoughts. Some small part of her, however, knew that her mother was finally going to deliver the whole truth; the truth that caused her parents to engage in so many civil hostilities across the dinner table, the truth that made her brother Will hate her and her brother Jackson pity her. The truth about why she was different, why her hair and eyes were wild, why her skin was tan, and why she dreamed in salt water and stray breezes. The truth, she concluded, about why we are on this ship in the middle of a hurricane, cleaning our bleeding hands with water boiling on a smoldering fire pit. She turned her attention back to her mother, who was prodding the fire pit with a poker. The woman sighed, looking years older than she truly was.
"I don't… I don't remember when I first began to feel something for Jack – that is, Captain Sparrow – other than slight revulsion," she said, thinking back. "I can never forget when I first met him; he cut off my corset." Madeleine's eyes widened, and her mother paused.
"He saved me from drowning," she explained. "You'd have to have been there, I suppose." She sighed again, and Madeleine wondered how far back the story really went. Judging by the ease with which her mother worked on the ship, and by the look she threw the illustrious captain… quite some time, she mused.
"I was eighteen then, and set to marry Commodore James Norrington shortly after his promotion ceremony. I thought I was in love with Will, but he was a blacksmith's apprentice… my father didn't approve." Her gaze bored into Madeleine's, begging her to understand.
"You'll have to ask Jack about our first adventure sometime, I'm sure he'd have an interesting perspective. I ended up trapped on this ship, under Captain Barbossa – he'd mutinied, leaving Jack on an island and taking over the Pearl –"
"Mum," stressed Madeleine. "I don't think we have time for the whole story!" Madeleine hated to interrupt, but the gale above was growing ever louder and they only had a few hours left until they were on deck again. Elizabeth nodded.
"Well, I ended up marrying Will – obviously – and after ten years and two sons, we settled down in Port Royal on Willowing Street. We bought the house from a crazy old woman who was trying to get to the colonies." Madeleine laughed, but encouraged her mother to continue.
"Jack – your brother Jack – was two or so when Captain Sparrow sailed back into Port Royal for the first time in ten years. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him, sauntering around the docks like not a day had passed. He stopped at Will's shop, and then at the house; I was in an apron, my hair in disarray, when the maid admitted him." Madeleine leaned closer to her mother, enjoying the story now; what kind of intrigue could have spawned between the two that the details of her mother's disarray were so important?
"Loralie made him stand in the hall, and told me it was someone rough-looking; I'd expected the butcher that day, so I thought nothing of it, although it struck me odd that he'd come in through the street door. I walked out in the hallway and there he was… Jack, that is…" Elizabeth's voice faltered and a pained expression filled her eyes.
"Leaning on the entrance table like he hadn't been gone for so long… it killed me a little," admitted Elizabeth. "I wasn't able to even say hello, I started to cry… I don't know why, really, just a stroke of foolishness, but I was there, sobbing like some broken woman, telling him I was sorry for everything. Sorry for leaving him, sorry for Will, sorry for letting him die." Madeleine, engrossed, wrinkled her brow; her mother had let the captain die? Not possible, he's steering the ship and giving orders right now! I hardly believe in ghost stories, mum.
"He's not a romantic, Jack. He looked at me without pity and smiled that sideways smile you've grown into, and told me, 'Lizzie, we're peas in a pod you and I, I and you. Us.' He'd said it once before, but I didn't pay it any mind. 'Think about it,' he told me. 'I'm still Captain Sparrow, still the… captain of a ship, still able to perform the aforementioned ceremony. Although,' he said, 'this time, it shall be in my cabin, not… on deck,' he suggested, as expressive as always. Remember, Madeleine," said Elizabeth, startling the girl. "What I did was not right, and I expect that you know that." Madeleine nodded, anything for her mother to continue with her story. Elizabeth sighed.
"I went with Jack. I put on my oldest dress and just… left. Will was in the smithy, and I had Loralie send him his basket lunch. I left William and Jack with Corinne, the nursemaid, and pretended I was walking to Mrs. Chunning's house. Instead, Jack – my Jack, Captain Sparrow – was waiting on the docks for me – the minute I walked out of Willowing Street, he grabbed me by the waist and stowed me aboard the Pearl. There was a storm brewing, a lot like this one…" The woman smiled softly, as if the memory brought her peace. Madeleine was barely breathing; she was no idiot, and she could see where her mother's story led. Suddenly, the long day of labor and revelations did not affect her – exhaustion abandoned her body, and all that mattered was hearing her mother's story.
"I was with-" began Elizabeth, but stopped when she noticed that the water she'd set to boil was ready. Wordlessly, Madeleine held out her arms and hands as Elizabeth dabbed at them with a rag soaked in boiling water. Good Lord, this stings, thought Madeleine as she winced. Elizabeth finished her ministrations in silence, worrying her bottom lip until it bled again.
"You're Jack's daughter," she whispered, so low that Madeleine almost missed it. The girl's eyes widened and she saw her mother begin to cry. I'm… my father is…
"I'm sorry," sobbed her mother quietly. "I – I love him, Madeleine. I suppose you should know that. I'm a fool." Madeleine, shaking her head in denial, stood quickly. I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming... Suddenly, the room was too small – she dashed out of the galley, not stopping until she was too blinded by her tears to run any further. A warm hand pushed her hair out of her face and wiped away the salty droplets.
"Madeleine, querida, what's wrong?" Joaquin's voice penetrated her thoughts, and the girl sniffled mightily before clearing her throat.
"I'm the captain's daughter," she whispered, the words barely making their way out of her lips. "My father… he's a pirate," she said with disgust. Joaquin's eyes flashed, but he then looked at her sympathetically.
"Why don't you tell me the whole story," he said, leading the girl to his hammock. She nodded dejectedly and sat, starting her narrative with the morning's fight against the mirror.
"I was made during a storm like this one," finished Madeleine some time later. "My mother is an adulteress, and my father is a pirate." She spat the words, but her miserable mood made it impossible to make them as poisonous as she wished.
"The storm shows in your personality," said Joaquin quietly. He had been so silent during her story, she could have been talking to herself. His words surprised her.
"How do you mean," she asked, anxious to take her mind off her mother's confession. Joaquin smiled his crinkly-eyed smile and touched an index finger to her forehead.
"Well, you think with what's up here most of the time," he said, tapping her head twice. His finger trailed down to her breastbone. "But you feel with what's in here. You're passionate, like the storm you were made in." Without thinking, Madeleine clutched his hand and held it to her chest.
"And you?" she asked, the air in the room thickening. His dark eyes bored into hers, the heat of his body affecting her own. "What do you feel with?"
"I'm just a pirate," he said softly, calling up her disgusted words earlier. "What could I possibly feel?" Madeleine never released his hand, instead opening it and placing it over her heart. Her eyes were shining from the stress of the day, and her cheeks reddened with the intimacy of the situation.
"You can feel this," she whispered, pressing his hand to her chest. "You can feel me…" She took his hand away and kissed each finger, her soft lips turning up into a small smile as she pressed them to his skin. Joaquin was temporarily dumbstruck – who was this little minx, that she should make his heart skip beats and his skin break out on nervous, longing sweat? And so young…
My father is the captain.
My mother is Elizabeth Swann Turner.
I was made during a storm like this one.
Joaquin put two and two together when he remembered a comment his captain had made, drunk, after coming back from a night at Scarlett's.
"I find," the captain had said, "that I no longer enjoy Scarlett's company as I used to." Joaquin, then thirteen, couldn't imagine a night on shore without a night at the tavern and the men disappearing to the top floor with the serving girls. He'd usually sneak off with a tavernkeeper's young daughter or niece, and have his own fun.
"Beg pardon, capitán," said Joaquin, unsure of what to reply. He began to walk away when Jack started again.
"As a matter of fact," he said, slurring his words and clutching the side of the ship, "I believe I don't even have the ache for her company as I once did." Joaquin, despite himself, was interested. He tangled his feet in some ropes and hung there to listen.
"I met a man once… I could have sworn he was a eunuch," said Jack roughly. "But he had a girl, and I helped him save that girl… she told me I was a good man," he said, eyes blazing. Suddenly, he fixed Joaquin with a rabid glare.
"Don't ever let them tell you you're a good man," he said in a low voice. "Then they believe in you… they have bloody faith in you, and you're caught." Joaquin figured it was time for him to go, so he nodded and began to slink away. As he was scurrying down to the hammocks, Jack threw out a last statement.
"Lizzie... Elizabeth," said the man, more brokenly than Joaquin cared to remember. That was the last thing the boy heard that night.
"I'm just a pirate," he repeated to Madeleine, at a loss for words. Her eyes turned up to meet his, and she replaced his hand at its previous position over her heart. A nervous flick of her tongue was the only thing that gave away the uneasy atmosphere in the room.
"You're a good enough man for me," she whispered, and the sound was barely out of her mouth before Joaquin's lips crushed against her own, taking her breath; he lifted her bodily into his hammock. Madeleine had only kissed one boy in her life before, Mistress Nott's nephew Ariam; she thought kissing was rather boring, not at as all entertaining as her tea-friends had described. But this, she thought giddily, this is heaven. Joaquin's hands wound themselves in her hair, and hers explored his body shamelessly through his shirt. Their dark eyes met often, crackling with intensity, each daring the other to go further. His calloused palms had just met with her hips when the bell rang for their shift. Madeleine pressed her lips to his jaw and then climbed off; their clothing was in disarray, and they struggled to right it as they pulled on their boots and fled to the deck.
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