Elizabeth often told people that her family was killed in a terrible fire. It wasn't a lie, really. They did die in a fire. The kind that involved gunpowder, bullets and betrayal, that is.
The scene flashed through her again, and she closed her eyes trying to block it.
A woman sobbing. A voice that spoke dangerously low. A shot. And then another. And another. And someone screaming…
Was it her?
When she was little, she thought she would remember their faces forever. But as the years passed, all she could recall were shadows and blurs. She did remember being afraid, very vividly, though.
Shadows...
And Norrington. The name that had seemed important for so long, but she hadn't, for the life of her, been able to remember why. It had haunted her as much as her nightmares did.
Until she met him. And suddenly all the shadows started to take shape. Her dreams had faces. And she finally realised who he was.
She breathed heavily, as the rest of it flashed through her.
There was her father, wearing his usual honorary wig and an unusual look of surprise. Her mother, with an unassuming air, her face gentle and her voice sweet, standing at his side. Her siblings…
And then there was another.
Hooked nose. Thick eyebrows and a look of malice. His lips slowly curled into a maniacal grin.
It was Norrington.
Norrington, her father had called him. For a moment, it seemed that time had stilled. And then-
"Fire," he cried.
And then there were noises akin to explosion as the guards around him opened fire at the family in front of them. There were screams. Bodies fell. She couldn't make out which ones were her parents and which ones were her brothers or sisters. And she stood still, paralysed with terror. She was led out of there by a pair of strong hands.
She couln't move, didn't speak, and she was half dragged. Mr Gibbs led them both through a secret passage and then out into the night.
They had left Port Royale that night. Little did she know, then, that Port Royal wasn't done with her yet.