A/N: So this chapter contains a flashback to when Rebecca and Weatherby's father locked her in her room. As I was writing the scene I could not get the image of Donald Sutherland out of my head as Bartholomew Swann.
I couldn't figure out why as when I write Pirates of the Caribbean fan fiction, I don't actually pick out actors as faceclaims for my OCs. I genuinely don't have any clue what Katherine Swann or Sarah Smith look like except maybe they're blonde? The closest I get is I guess I picture Rebecca as a mix of Kate Mara, Anna Kendrick, and maybe a touch of Isla Fisher while Nathaniel is something of a cross between Hans Matheson in Les Misérables and Garrett Hedlund in Eragon but with the physique of Eddie Redmayne.
So you can see why I was confused why Donald Sutherland was so firmly stuck in my head as Bartholomew.
And then it hit me. Donald Sutherland played Keira Knightley's father in Pride and Prejudice. He also played Sam Claflin's father in Pillars of the Earth (if you haven't seen that miniseries, stop whatever you're doing right now and go watch that. I love it so much.)
Apparently my head had subconsciously remembered that Donald Sutherland had played the father of both Keira and Sam, so when it needed to come up with the image for a person who could be the grandfather of Elizabeth aka Keira Knightley and Philip aka Sam Claflin, it just inserted the guy who played both their fathers.
…I think too much of my brain is devoted to trivia.
Birds of a Feather
The Curse of the Black Pearl
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Swanns Don't Stay Caged
Weatherby Swann hated the thought of his daughter locked inside Norrington's cabin. He understood the reason why it had to be done, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
It especially didn't mean he had to like hearing that his daughter had been dragged into the cabin by soldiers kicking and screaming the whole way. Port Royal thought Weatherby Swann to be a demure and mild Governor, so in the years to come it became something of a legend how furiously he had yelled at Gillette and the guards who dragged Elizabeth into the cabin.
Elizabeth was a wild child, there was no doubting that, but his discipline had never involved laying a hand on either of his children. Weatherby was no stranger to violence as a punishment. Philip and Elizabeth would never know that the scar Weatherby always kept covered on his right arm was from the bite of his father's belt when Weatherby had only been eight. And his dear wife Katherine only ever saw the marks permanently etched on his back.
He never wanted to be like his father. The reason Bartholomew Swann's threats of violence were taken so seriously was that everyone knew Bartholomew would follow through on them. Rebecca had sometimes accused Weatherby of being spineless when it came to the hell Bartholomew put Katherine through over her fertility problems, but Weatherby knew the best way to protect Katherine was to obey his father's every command. When Bartholomew threatened to have Katherine killed, Weatherby knew he very likely could come home one day to find Katherine had been strangled to death in a "burglary gone wrong" or some other nonsense.
Weatherby could never be certain that his father never laid a hand on Katherine in violence, but Weatherby did everything in his power to stop it. It took its toil on their relationship sometimes, but Weatherby always reasoned it was better to have a weeping wife in his arms in the safety of their bedroom than a bloody – or worse, dead – one.
He also couldn't ignore how it was only after his father died that Katherine was able to safely carry a child to term. Bartholomew had terrified and terrorized Katherine for years.
Weatherby remembered what his father had said to her after every failed pregnancy.
After the first miscarriage, Bartholomew said, "It's alright. Sometimes these things happen."
After the second miscarriage, Bartholomew said, "You'll get it right next time."
After the first stillborn, Bartholomew said, "At least this one made it to term."
After the third miscarriage, Bartholomew said, "This will not happen again."
After the fourth miscarriage, Bartholomew said nothing.
The thought made Weatherby's mind turn to the fallout of the fourth miscarriage. That horrible, horrible fallout. It may have led to Rebecca meeting Nathaniel, but what Bartholomew did to Katherine… What he said…
Weatherby refused to dwell on the memory.
He rubbed the covered scar on his arm and turned his thoughts to his sister. Rebecca never talked about what punishments their father doled out, but Weatherby knew Bartholomew was less physical with her, often because Weatherby would step in and demand his father inflict them on himself instead.
Rebecca always teased – making light of it was the only way the siblings could cope with the horror of the situation – that it was the only time Weatherby had a backbone. Without fail, Bartholomew would refuse to give the punishment to Weatherby instead, ranting that Rebecca was so rebellious because she never had to face her punishments. But Weatherby would stand directly in front of Rebecca, her chest literally pressing into his back as Weatherby reached back and grasped her forearms blocking her body completely with his. He refused to move an inch and demanded their father punish him instead.
And Bartholomew would… making Rebecca watch in silence, warning her what would happen to her if Weatherby wasn't around to take her lashes for her. As long as their father drew breath, Weatherby never let Bartholomew hit Rebecca while he was around.
It was why the time Bartholomew did get physical with Rebecca in front of him haunted Weatherby so.
How could he ever forget that shouting match in the receiving room of their London Manor when he focused on protecting his wife rather than his sister?
When Weatherby told people that Nathaniel Swift had been thrown out of the Swann Manor, he doubted people imagined that the sentence was so literal.
It had been a servant who found Rebecca and Nathaniel in a corner, whispering their plans between stolen kisses to run away and get married. When the servant brought the news to the Master of the Manor, Bartholomew had the barest of Nathaniel's possessions packed into a bag and the rest burned. That included the spare bibles Nathaniel gave for free to anyone who asked for one.
If that didn't guarantee Bartholomew's place in Hell, what would?
Nathaniel had been having lunch with Weatherby, Rebecca, and Katherine when Bartholomew stormed into the dining room, bag in hand. Without a word, he grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulder and dragged him into the receiving hall. He literally threw Nathaniel out on the steps, bag tossed out after, landing close enough to Nathaniel's head to know Bartholomew's aim had missed.
The slam of the door behind the missionary echoed through the four-story mansion, but even louder were the voices of Rebecca and Bartholomew in the aftermath.
They argued for hours while Weatherby and Katherine were stuck standing there watching the fight. Risking the chance to move from the receiving room would end in nothing but Bartholomew's fury being turned on them instead. They made the mistake of following in behind Rebecca when Bartholomew grabbed Nathaniel, and now they were paying for it.
As they watched the fight, Weatherby made sure that at all times his body was blocking his wife from his father. Bartholomew had only become more irate with Katherine over every dead child. It was clear that Bartholomew had written off Katherine's place in the family and was determined to see at least one of the Swann siblings produce a highborn child. The threat against Katherine's safety had Weatherby on edge constantly, and his sister's rebellion against her marriage prospects did not help in the slightest.
Rebecca and Bartholomew yelled at each other until it would have made any normal man's throat hoarse. But not the Swanns; the Swanns would carry on screaming as strong and loud as ever until Judgement Day when God would come down from the Heavens to ask them to take it down a notch.
They went in circles, arguing about Nathaniel, Rebecca's rebelliousness, Bartholomew's treatment of Katherine, what the late Joanna Swann would think of her husband and daughter, but above all, they argued about Beckett.
And Rebecca would not back down.
"I will not marry him!" Rebecca yelled in her father's face. She was quite a tall woman, so their faces were close to being level, but Bartholomew didn't flinch.
"You will do what I tell you!" Bartholomew snapped. "You are my daughter, and you will obey my command!"
"I obey no command but that of the Lord's. I am not your possession, nor your property. I am no pet to be caged or servant to be commanded."
"Under the law, you are no better than my servant. You will obey my orders."
"I am a servant of God. Not of Bartholomew. I will not marry Beckett."
"You will do what is right for this family."
"What is right for this family is not to terrorize your son's wife or throw a holy man onto the streets," Rebecca shot.
"Some Holy Man he was," Bartholomew sneered. "I opened my home to him, fed him, clothed him, trusted him, and how does he repay me? He attempts to claim my own daughter for himself. Swift was nothing more than a snake in the grass, and now he has shamed me and this family."
"The only reason you brought him into this home was that you shamed us. You shamed and humiliated the woman by law you must call daughter, and took in Nathaniel to restore our reputation. That false reputation of you being a respectful, honorable, and noble man. You call Nathaniel wicked and claim I am under his spell dishonoring myself with him, but it is you who has it backwards. I love him, and he loves me. He will take me as his bride, and Beckett can go throw himself off the Cliffs of Dover for all I care! And there is nothing you can do about it, Father. Oh, you think yourself cunning and able to prevent me from being with Nathaniel, but the truth is you are nothing more than a vile, evil serpent who-"
He slapped her.
Involuntarily, Weatherby felt his gentle grip on his wife's arm tighten, though whether it was a protective move to save her or a flinch at his body preparing to feel a blow himself, Weatherby wasn't sure.
Silence fell upon the room as Rebecca stared at her father in utter astonishment.
They all stood there in the stillness, eyes wide and jaws dropped. No one could believe it. Bartholomew had just struck Rebecca, so openly, so suddenly. There was never even a second for Rebecca to defend herself. For Weatherby to take the blow himself. For Katherine to even draw on her own failures to distract Bartholomew and redirect the attention to herself for Rebecca to escape as Katherine had done many times before.
Even the servants huddled behind door – and poor old Anthony the Doorman who just had to stand there and watch the confrontation – were surprised. Bartholomew always barked for the servants to go away before disciplining his children, and he would wait until they were truly gone. The Fearsome Bartholomew Swann knew the best way to ensure the whispers of him beating his children were nothing more than that was to make sure there were no witnesses. But the servants knew the Master was aware of the audience and still struck Miss Rebecca Swann so openly.
But there was none more surprised – or silent – than Miss Rebecca Swann herself. She stood there holding her right cheek in absolute shock. For years she had gotten away with mouthing off to her father and receiving no more consequence than a scolding or simple restriction such as going to bed without supper or being forbidden from going to Mass that Sunday (surprisingly to her, Weatherby never thought that a punishment.) The times where her father threatened violence were for much more dire acts of rebelliousness. Mouthing off never resulted in violence, and Rebecca had gotten away with much worse before. For goodness sake, she got away with calling her father "worse than Judas Iscariot" that very morning at breakfast.
But now in that moment where he had learned about her love for Nathaniel… when she actually had an opportunity to escape her father's wrath. That's what Bartholomew Swann feared. Not that Rebecca would marry a mere commoner (though he wouldn't exactly be throwing a party if she did) it was about losing that control. If she married Beckett, he could continue to control her the way he controlled Weatherby with Katherine (though not in the same way as Rebecca wouldn't mind Beckett to suffer a "mysterious death.")
However, if she married Nathaniel…
That was when she felt the blood on her cheek. Bartholomew was a man of opulence, and one of the rings that cost more than a blacksmith makes in a year had caught her cheek and left a slice across her jaw.
Slowly Rebecca moved her hand from her face and stared at the blood on her palm. She blinked once, twice, but the blood didn't disappear. Her father had done this to her, and if she let him get away with it he would do much worse. As she stared at the blood, Rebecca knew she didn't have to live like this.
…She wouldn't live like this.
Her green eyes flicked up into her father's cold blue ones, and emerald shock turned to fury that would make a harpy recoil.
"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.'" Rebecca's voice was ice as she recited the Sermon on the Mount from where the Holy Son's words lived in her heart. "But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek…"
Rebecca turned her face to present her left side.
"Turn to them the other cheek also," her voice grew stronger with every word. Her back straight and proud, Rebecca looked her father straight in the eye and began unlacing her gown. "And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well."
The last tie undone, Rebecca ripped the gown off her body, dramatically shoving it down, gathering it in her arms, and threw it at the feet of her father. She stood before him in petticoat, shift, and stomacher, down to her barest clothes but somehow standing tallest and proudest of them all.
"And unto you, Father I say this," Rebecca seethed. "I am a servant of God, created in his image to worship the Lord and spread his message of love and forgiveness. The Lord has given me to Nathaniel the way he gave Rebekah to Isaac, and we shall prosper as they did. Call me as rebellious as Korah against Moses. As foolish as Aaron when he made the Golden Calf. Even call my maidenhead into question as they did to the Virgin Mary, and call me the Gomer to Beckett's Hosea. But I shall not stand another minute in this household and I will never step foot in Beckett's household as his bride. For I tell you this, I would rather be Nathaniel's whore than Beckett's bride."
Silence clung to the room like a heavy fog. Rebecca was simply terrifying in her strength and power as she stared down her father and asserted control over her life… But that terrifying visage hadn't come to Rebecca from nowhere, and as Bartholomew Swann stared her right back down Weatherby knew it was time to start planning a funeral.
The only question was whose funeral would it be?
Rebecca righted her shoulders, "It has come to this, Father, I will never marry Beckett, and since you have said I must obey you if I live in your household, it seems now I must leave. So I will depart this house this very minute and find my fortune in the world. I'll send for my things at a later time. Goodbye, Father."
And head held high, wearing nothing but her undergarments Rebecca sauntered towards the door.
Bartholomew moved so quickly it was impossible to tell if Katherine or Rebecca screamed first. He had grabbed Rebecca by the hair and yanked her backwards down onto the floor. Bartholomew clutched her hair at the root like he wanted to tear it out by the handful. Terror and pain crackled in the room like electricity as Rebecca whimpered on her knees.
"Father, stop!" Weatherby cried out.
"Quiet, Boy!" Bartholomew snapped. His eyes narrowed in on the crying Katherine, "And you will quiet that wife of yours now."
Weatherby held Katherine close and whispered to her to try to dry her tears. They both knew it only made things worse. What he wanted to do was go right in there and pry his father's hands off Rebecca, but Weatherby found his legs couldn't move.
"You think this is a game, you little Harpy?" Bartholomew growled at Rebecca, completely unaffected by his daughter's tears of pain. "You are a woman. You have no rights but that which I give you. You will marry Beckett in thirty days' time, and you will never even think the name Nathaniel Swift again."
"No," Rebecca whimpered, trying to pry his fingers from her hair. "You cannot make me."
Bartholomew chuckled, "No, My Dear, I very well think I can."
He yanked her to her feet and began dragging her by the hair across the hall and up the staircase. The scene was one of such shock and horror to Weatherby and Katherine that by the time they gathered their wits to follow, Bartholomew and Rebecca were gone from sight.
"Go," Weatherby urged Katherine. "Make yourself scarce. Hide in the kitchens or my study or anywhere where you're out of my father's way."
"But Darling-"
"I will do what I can for Rebecca," Weatherby assured. "Please, My Love, find refuge so I know you'll be safe as I deal with this."
Katherine with tears in her eyes gave him a quick kiss and scampered off. As he watched her go, Weatherby vaguely wondered if Katherine's emotional display was possibly from another pregnancy? If she was – by then she had gotten into the habit of not telling him – then surely the stress of this would result in yet another miscarriage.
Pushing the thought away, Weatherby ran up the stairs, chasing after his father and sister.
Weatherby arrived just in time to see Bartholomew literally throw Rebecca into her room. There were about half a dozen servants around, but no one made a move to help the mistress of the house.
As the door slammed shut and Bartholomew locked it, Weatherby started forward, but a servant grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. The servant gave Weatherby a solemn shake of the head and tightened his grip. It was an older servant, a man who had been with the Swann family for years and knew what trouble Weatherby's interference would cause.
"No one is to open this door until the wedding day," Bartholomew ordered the staff. His eyes darkened when he saw Weatherby, "No one. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Milord," the staff chorused.
"Father! You can't do this!" Rebecca pounded on the door and desperately yanked at the handle, trying to force her way out.
"I think you'll find I can."
Bartholomew signalled to a pair of servants, and to Weatherby's absolute shock and horror they produced wood panels, hammers, and nails. He couldn't believe his eyes as they began boarding up his sister's room.
"Let me explain to you all what is going to happen. For the next month, Rebecca is not to leave that room. A guard will be posted at the door to watch her, and she will be brought meals," Bartholomew gestured to a small slot that Weatherby hadn't noticed had been cut out at the bottom of the door.
His eyes flicked between the boards being nailed across the door and the freshly cut slot. That was when he realized that his father had been planning this the entire time. Bartholomew had transformed Rebecca's childhood bedroom into a prison cell. Later Weatherby would learn that Rebecca's window had been nailed shut and all precious and entertaining things removed from her room. Bartholomew had even removed all of Rebecca's bibles and religious texts.
"Rebecca will stay in there and reflect on her sinful actions," Bartholomew glared at the door as Rebecca tried to scratch and slam into it, desperate to find a way out. "On the morning of her wedding she will be brought out, taken to the church, and then to the home of her husband where she will live out the rest of her days fulfilling the duties expected of her."
"I will never marry him!" Rebecca exclaimed.
"Yes, you will!" Bartholomew barked. "And if I have to drag you by the hair up the aisle to the altar and move your mouth for you, you will say I do."
"Manhandle me all you want; you'll never make me speak!"
"Then I guess I'll have to spend the next month learning to throw my voice." Bartholomew turned and glared at the staff, "This wedding will happen, and may God have mercy on the soul of anyone stupid enough to try to help her. Finding a new position will be the least of your worries."
Fury filling his heart, Weatherby knew it was time to take a stand.
He grabbed Bartholomew's arm as he walked past, "Father-"
Bartholomew threw off Weatherby's grip like it was nothing, "Weatherby Isaac Swann, if you touch that door you'll be in need of a new wife."
It stopped Weatherby in his tracks. He looked back at the door of his sister's room and then at his father's retreating back. Heart torn in two, Weatherby didn't know what to do. He wanted to do nothing more than to rip the boards right off the door, but he couldn't risk Katherine's safety. She was his wife. He vowed before God to protect her from anything, and that anything was foremost his father. As much as it hurt, he couldn't pull off those boards and endanger his wife.
…Plus he also was physically incapable of tearing down those boards, but that was beside the point.
It was a somber scene as the servants slowly made their way out the hall. Some of them muttered apologies and condolences to Weatherby as they passed, but only when they were certain Bartholomew wasn't close enough to hear.
Soon even the servants boarding up the door finished, which left Weatherby and the final servant, the same who had initially held him back from his father. Sharing a sorrowful look, the servant gave Weatherby a quick nod and stepped away to give him a minute alone.
Weatherby didn't know what to say, what to do. He just stared blankly at the door, mind whirring as it tried to figure out how they went from having a nice lunch with Nathaniel Swift to Rebecca as a prisoner in her own room.
Taking a deep breath, Weatherby leaned against the wall next to Rebecca's door and closed his eyes.
That's when he heard Rebecca's sobbing.
Losing what little strength he had, Weatherby slid down the wall and sat on the floor at a complete loss of what to do. He looked over at the slot in the door and hesitated.
"Rebecca?" he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he slid his hand through the slot, trying to offer her what comfort he could. "Sister, I- …I'm so sorry."
For a long time there was silence from behind the door.
Then her hand slipped in his.
"I forgive you, Weatherby," Rebecca whispered. "I forgive you this."
Weatherby let out a shaky breath of relief.
"But don't you ever forget, Brother," Rebecca warned, "Swanns don't stay caged. I'll get out of this… and so will you."
Weatherby didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself for leaving Rebecca in her room like that for weeks… and he could never forget what he had done the night she and Nathaniel eloped.
Years later, shortly before Philip was born, Rebecca confessed to Weatherby that her imprisonment had scarred her for life. Never again could Rebecca stand to be in a locked room without a visible way of exiting.
So that was why when Damien Gillette had the nerve to lock Weatherby Swann's precious only daughter in a cabin with no means of escape, Weatherby Swann ripped the Lieutenant a new one.
And when Weatherby approached the cabin and asked the sailor standing watch (merely there to protect Elizabeth from an enemy, not to keep her prisoner Gillette had insisted at least two dozen times in his dressing down) for "a moment, please?" the sailor bowed his head and was quick to scamper off before the Governor turned his fury to him.
Weatherby took a deep breath before he knocked on the cabin door, "Elizabeth?"
His daughter made no reply. Weatherby wasn't surprised. His children thought him simple, naïve, blind, and possibly even stupid but it was just one of the many masks society forced him to wear. He had picked up on what his daughter felt for Will Turner long before they made port at Port Royal.
James Norrington was a good man… but Elizabeth's heart belonged to Will Turner. Always had and always would.
Swanns fell in love hard and fast, and when they found their mate they were like their namesake and mated for life. Weatherby had proposed to Katherine three months after they met (well technically Rebecca had done the proposing) and within a week of Nathaniel Swift's arrival at the Swann Manor was Rebecca certain she had found her true love. It had even only taken Weatherby three days to realize Elizabeth was more fond of William Turner than she should be. At this rate, whenever Philip met his one, it would only take a matter of hours before he was professing his undying love for the girl.
Weatherby hoped the boy had more sense than that.
The more he thought of Elizabeth's decision to marry Commodore Norrington, the more his mind fixated on what he had been telling her all her life.
"I hope that whatever decision you do make about the Commodore's proposal, Elizabeth, you follow through with it. We don't need another Beckett situation."
The Beckett Incident hung over the Swann family like a cloud. For years he had impressed in Elizabeth's mind to never repeat the mistakes of her family. Marry the man you promised you would marry (though Rebecca never actually agreed to marry Beckett) and never change your mind.
But if that meant his daughter was miserable the rest of her days, was honour truly worth it? He knew Will Turner would never commit adultery with his daughter, but the thought of Elizabeth's frustration turning to bitterness and possibly even sin consumed Weatherby's mind.
His thoughts then turned to Katherine. It had been so many years since Weatherby held her in his arms, but he never forgot the feeling of love. The way she trusted him, how safe she felt in his arms, her lips on his, her skin against his… how Katherine made him feel like the strongest, smartest, bravest man in the world. It was true that his father spent years grooming Weatherby for politics, but the faith and confidence Katherine gave him is what sealed the deal for his career. Without Kat, Weatherby would never have become Governor of Port Royal. He owed everything to his beloved wife and he knew she would only want a single thing in return.
Their daughter's happiness.
"I want you to know I believe you made a very good decision today. Couldn't be more proud of you." Weatherby couldn't help but smile at the thought of Elizabeth as Norrington's wife. But then he thought of what would make his daughter happy, and it wasn't marriage to Norrington, "But a good decision, if made for the wrong reasons, can be a wrong decision."
Elizabeth looked back at the door where her father sat, stopping for a moment to listen to what he had to say. It had become very clear to her that Weatherby Swann was fully aware of the tragic love story of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann.
Not that she was about to start confessing to their kiss.
The words of warning from her father played over and over in her mind.
I just want you to make a choice you can live with.
And in that moment she knew the choice she couldn't live with. She couldn't just leave Will and Philip to the horrors of the crew of the Black Pearl.
So she knotted another pair of bedsheets together.
Syrena stared up at the HMS Dauntless in complete confusion. Exactly where was Elizabeth Swann and how the bloody hell was Syrena going to discretely save her and warn the Navy Sailors without revealing her mermaidhood?
"Perhaps Philip and I should have come up with a more specific plan than go to the ship and save the day," Syrena muttered to herself.
Splash!
Syrena's head jerked to the side. Something had hit the water from the stern of the boat. Keeping her head low (she once again thanked the Mother Goddess for giving her such dark hair that always was masked by the black nighttime ocean water) Syrena swam to the back of the ship.
She was very confused as to why there was a line of bedsheets hanging out the captain's cabin.
…Until Elizabeth Swann began climbing down them.
"Ok, I'm impressed," Syrena admitted.
Then she started thinking about what exactly was Elizabeth's plan? It's not like the Navy towed a longboat behind the ship. Elizabeth would have to jump into the freezing cold water, swim around to a side where one was secured (assuming they weren't all stored on deck), pull it down, get in, and then… go where? Isla de Muerta? The Black Pearl?
Syrena was starting to think her new flock didn't quite excel at thinking things through.
Then it hit Syrena. She could gain Elizabeth's trust again (or was it in the first place?) by helping her with this… plan. Elizabeth would struggle to get a boat, but a mermaid who could move like a ghost through the water had no problem.
Syrena dove under the water and made for the side of the boat.
"And then I said to her a little mermaid flopped on deck and told us the whole story," Gillette and his men laughed raucously.
Syrena glared up in the general direction of the sailors. They acted as if mermaids were pets to be kept or a children's toy and not the deadly monsters all in the sea feared.
No, Syrena reminded herself as she carefully untied the lines attaching the longboat to the ship. She was not a monster. She was different. She was part of the flock. Philip's flock. Elizabeth's flock.
Besides, Syrena smirked, they wouldn't be so high and mighty when they learned a little mermaid flopped on board and stole their boat. With a quiet splash Syrena dropped the boat into the water, and using her powers, enchanted it to follow her.
None of them noticed the mermaid swimming away with their longboat.
"And you should have seen the tears in her eyes when Rebecca admitted to me the only right thing she could do for Philip was to leave him in England under my care because of the mistakes she made as no better than a child." Weatherby struggled to say the words as she thought of that tragic memory. His voice choked as his heart shattered all over again, "And I just can't put you through such heartbreak, Elizabeth. I can't."
Elizabeth didn't say a word.
That was when it clicked.
"Elizabeth?" Weatherby frowned, "Are you there?"
Elizabeth said nothing.
Weatherby couldn't believe it. There he was pouring his heart out about the pain his family had suffered because of his sister's warring desires, and Elizabeth couldn't even give him the time of day?
"Elizabeth, are you even listening to me?" Weatherby threw open the door to the cabin.
It was empty.
Elizabeth took a deep breath as she clung to the outside of the lower balcony on the stern. She had climbed all the way down, but now it was time to jump into the water. She tried to push away all the stories she had heard of the water being cold as ice (they were in the Caribbean, how cold could it really be) but fear pounded in her heart as she imagined all manner of dangers lurking below that inky water.
She never would have jumped if she knew about the pirates climbing out of the water onto the ship in that very moment.
Elizabeth ran over the plan again in her mind. Jump into the water. Swim to the side of the ship. Steal a longboat. Row to the Black Pearl. Free the crew. Rally them to go to Isla de Muerta. Save Will.
Jump. Swim. Steal. Row. Free. Rally. Will.
Jump. Swim. Steal. Row. Free. Rally. Will.
Jump. Swim. Row. Will.
Jump. Row. Will.
Jump. Will.
Jump.
Staring at the murky water, Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to jump.
Please, Lord, Elizabeth lifted her eyes to the sky. I know I don't speak to you as often as Philip, but if you wouldn't mind to send me a kindness, and help me save Will and Philip, I would really be grateful. I can't promise I'll reform and become a nun or anything, but I'll… I'll at least pretend to feign interest when Philip talks about you.
Then to Elizabeth's surprise, a longboat floated right in front of her.
"Wow," Elizabeth mumbled. "God puts the bar a lot lower than Philip's ever claimed."
She grabbed onto the line of bedsheets and clamoured down right into the longboat. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she settled on a bench. As she grabbed an oar she couldn't feel more proud of her ingenuity and luck.
It was like someone was looking out for her.
"Elizabeth," Syrena suddenly popped out of the ocean.
She shrieked and swung the oar at the mermaid.
"No! Stop!" Syrena just barely dodged the blow. "Peace! Peace! Philip sent me!"
"What on earth?" Elizabeth lowered the oar. "What are you doing here?"
Syrena scowled, "I just told you. Philip sent me."
"Philip sent you? You?"
"I do not appreciate your tone."
"Well excuse me for not being polite to my captor."
"Captor?" Syrena scoffed. "Oh please. I do not understand where this hostility is coming from. You call me monster and creature and act like I'm something to be feared when I've been nothing but kind and caring toward you this entire trip. Tell me, who was it that kept your secrets and listened to your stories, telling you those of my own to keep you entertained and comforted in my cabin away from pirates who would do you harm?"
"You kept me chained to a wall for a month!"
"I undid the shackle when people weren't around!"
Elizabeth stared at the mermaid with a scowl as slowly Syrena considered what she had just said.
"Okay," Syrena admitted. "I think I'm starting to understand your point of view."
"Well, I don't understand yours," Elizabeth snapped. "What are you even doing here?"
"I've come to save you from the pirates."
"But you're one of them."
"Not anymore. I side now with you and Turner and Philip."
"Oh please, why would you turn against the people who have cared for you for a decade to save us?"
"Because you're different, and I want to be different too."
Elizabeth fell silent. She didn't know why the words struck such a chord with her. Maybe it was the honesty of The Mermaid's voice. Maybe it was something in her eyes. Or maybe it was because she knew that was exactly how she had described Philip to The Mermaid what felt like ages ago.
Syrena took a deep breath, "And I do it because Philip asked it of me. So I agreed to do it."
Elizabeth's eyes widened as The Mermaid pulled something out of the water, revealing what was hanging from her neck.
It was Uncle Nathaniel's cross.
But that didn't make any sense. Philip would never give away that cross, and the necklace was so simple and cheap (quite worthless actually) that not even the most desperate scavenger would steal it from a body. There was no reason for The Mermaid to have it… unless…
Unless…
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Elizabeth whispered. Her mind went back to the confusing exchanges on the Black Pearl when Barbossa had both her and Philip hostage. He had given The Mermaid his shirt, he miraculously called off The Mermaid when she attacked Elizabeth, and whenever Elizabeth glanced at Philip she found his eyes on The Mermaid. She couldn't believe it, "Philip and The Mermaid?"
"My name is Syrena," she said firmly.
"Since when?"
"Since Philip gave it to me."
And she understood, "He's in love with you, isn't he?"
Syrena looked down shyly, "Philip… has not said as much, but he knows what naming a mermaid means. And I… I think I have…"
Elizabeth sighed, "I don't believe this. Of all the idiotic and selfish things that knucklehead could do, he goes and pulls a stunt like that."
"Excuse me?" Syrena's eyes flashed black. "I come here to save you for Philip. I very well can go back to the cave alone and tell him I couldn't find you. If you don't like me, I can live with that. But to insult a man for developing romantic feelings for someone who, honestly tail and taste for human flesh aside, has nothing truly wrong with her-"
"Calm down. That's not what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?" Syrena snarled.
"It's just… for years Philip has had the romantic feelings of an avocado. He's so straight and narrow and devoted to God, a woman could be completely naked in front of him and he wouldn't even glance in her direction."
Syrena decided not to mention how Philip had done just that when she had been nude before him.
"And now he's fallen in love, and it's with a mermaid of all things." Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "And that selfish arse has managed to do it in a time and place when I can't make fun of him for it! Are you kidding me? I've been waiting for years and now I don't get to mock him! I'll tell you what, he's going to get a solid three months of teasing when we get home. Philip Swift and a Mermaid. This is comedy gold."
Syrena just stared at Elizabeth.
"You are a very strange woman," Syrena said.
Elizabeth shrugged, "Takes one to know one."
"You know what they say: Birds of one kind and colour flock and fly always together."
Elizabeth looked shocked, "… so Philip really has taken you under his wing."
Syrena grinned mischievously, "Honestly, I've been hoping he'll take me under a few other things."
Elizabeth shuddered, "Okay, reminder, that is my cousin- No, that is basically my brother. I do not want to think about him doing anything of that sort!"
"Consider it revenge for calling me a creature."
"Yeah, I deserved that one." Elizabeth sighed, "So you've come to save me. Well, now I'm saved. What are we doing next?"
"I mean, I assume we go back to the cave and save the boys. I'm not exactly sure what's going on there, but we ran into Jack Sparrow, so I'm hoping he and Philip found some way to stop Barbossa from killing Will."
"That cave's going to be filled with pirates. We'll need help."
"Oh, not necessarily. I think Barbossa's going to send the crew to attack this very ship."
Elizabeth's heart ran cold, "But my father's on this ship."
Syrena didn't know what to do with that information, "Should we… should we bring him with us?"
"My Grandfather died from a heart attack when my father told him my parents were going to move to Africa with my aunt because they couldn't stand living with him another moment. I'm not going to roll the dice on family genetics and tell him Philip wants to kiss a mermaid."
"For the record Philip and I have not yet kissed… and it's starting to really annoy me."
"Syrena, I'm only at the part where I semi-trust you and that's simply because Philip vouches for you. If you want someone to rally on your relationship with my cousin you're going to have to look elsewhere."
"That reminds me. I could have sworn I saw on my way here Ragetti and Pintel in a rowboat wearing dresses. I'm curious for an explanation, and yet too afraid to ask."
"That's basically been my mode of operation on this adventure. Especially when dealing with you."
"Oh shoot, I never did explain all those things to you about my past." Syrena glanced at the cave, "Here, I'll tell you the story while we head to the island."
"Wait!" Elizabeth exclaimed, slamming backwards on the bench as Syrena began swimming forward and the longboat suddenly jerked forward to follow.
"Sorry," Syrena stopped. "I should have warned you. I have to power to make boats follow me."
"No, it's not that." Elizabeth regained her balance. "Ok, it's a little that, but look, it'll be a good idea to have some backup. What if we rallied Jack's crew and had them storm the cave with us?"
"You mean steal the Black Pearl from Barbossa?"
"What better revenge against the man for chaining you to a wall for ten years?"
"Three years, and it was a tank," Syrena decided it was best not to get into how she no longer wanted revenge. "But are you sure Jack's crew would come to the rescue? They are pirates."
"Of course they would. They're his crew."
"Yes, but they're pirates."
"Plus it's a cave filled with treasure."
"But they would have a ship right at hand. They would be risking losing that for who knows if the reward would pay out, and they are pirates."
"It would be a grand adventure to honorably fight and die. Only a coward would run away."
"They are pirates."
"They wouldn't just let innocent men like Will and Philip die!"
"They. Are. Pirates." Syrena rolled her eyes, "Give me one reason we should go to the Pearl rather than Isla de Muerta?"
"Elizabeth?" an absolutely gobsmacked voice called down.
Syrena and Elizabeth's head shot up to see Weatherby Swann standing on the balcony looking down at the girls in horror, eyes firmly fixed on the red tail splashing in the water.
The girls looked at each other in horror.
"Which is closer to us? The Black Pearl or Isla de Muerta?" Syrena asked.
"The Black Pearl," Elizabeth answered.
"Let's go!"
And Syrena swam as fast as she could towards the Black Pearl, tail splashing powerfully and not in the least hidden from the amazed, confused, and terrified Weatherby Swann.
"Elizabeth!" Weatherby cried out. "What are you doing? What have you done? What on Earth is that monster in the water?"
"Oh, that?" Elizabeth casually glanced at Syrena. The mermaid may have been guiding the boat, but Elizabeth also rowed with the oars to get that much faster away from her father. "That's Syrena. Just don't call her a monster. She really doesn't like it. And really, Father, after all of Aunt Rebecca's stories you can't recognize a mermaid? For shame, Father. For shame."
Weatherby just sputtered some nonsense, brain refusing to believe his eyes.
"Sorry, Father," Elizabeth called, "but I can't let Will and Philip die, and Syrena was offering me a ride so I figured why not?"
"Elizabeth Dinah Swann!" Weatherby found his voice. "You will return to this ship at once and barricade yourself in this cabin for your own safety."
"I can't do that, and you know better than to ask that of me. You know what Aunt Rebecca always said: Swanns don't stay caged." Elizabeth then added, "Oh, and now that you've seen a mermaid and know things like her exist, don't be surprised if a crew of undead skeleton pirates come to attack the ship."
"Undead what?"
"I'll give Philip your love, Father!"
And then Elizabeth disappeared on the horizon in the black of night.
Weatherby could barely comprehend what he had just seen. A mermaid? An honest to God mermaid has just swam off with his daughter in a longboat, and now undead skeleton pirates were going to attack the crew. It was pure madness. If he told this story to anyone else they would think him a lunatic and lock him up in the madhouse.
…That explained how his daughter ended up locked in this cabin.
Weatherby turned his eyes to the sky, "Lord on High, what devilry is this?"
And yet as he struggled to swallow the fact he had just seen a MERMAID swimming off with his daughter… Weatherby Swann couldn't help but think if his sister was alive, she'd be loving every second.