Part One:

The Island

The Storm That Brought You To Me

Spring 1730

"Curse the East India Company!"

Lord Albert Barton hurled the empty rum bottle into the waves, and watched the sea claim another worthless trinket as its own. There was a storm brewing ahead; causing the ocean to thrash violently as lightning struck the gray-blue sky every few seconds, but Albert paid no heed. Half-drunk, the old man stumbled about the increasingly unsafe shores, lost within his own thoughts.

"It's my island, not theirs!" Albert growled, bitterly, "my colony, not theirs!"

Thunder rolled ominously overhead, as though the weather were heeding the old lord's sour words. Albert kicked at the moist dirt beneath his feet, and then sat at the edge of the shore in a miserable heap. He had discovered this island over a decade ago while exploring the Caribbean. Hell, he had been given permission from His Majesty himself to establish a colony here! The island was small and stood rather far from civilization, which put it at risk for a pirate attack, but aside from that it was perfect! It was a paradise for those who wanted to escape the turmoil of the outside world, and it was still within range of the trade routes. Supplies were plenty as long as payments were made and the ships arrived on time.

'And there hasn't been an attack in years!' Albert thought triumphantly before sulking, 'but that's still not enough for the damned Company.' The old lord's heart burned at the thought of the East India Trading Company. The blighters had been ratting him on since he laid the first brick on this island. They wanted to buy it off him and turn it into another trading outpost. It wasn't an entirely bad thing, but it would turn the settlement into something it was not, and many citizens could lose their homes. Albert had thought that with the mysterious death of Lord Cutler Beckett, the Company would finally get off his back, but no. Instead the Company's insistence only grew, and it was becoming a losing battle. Albert was getting old, he felt it in his joints every day, and the Company knew it as well. Without an heir to take his place, it was only a matter of time before the Company swept the colony out from his feet.

Rage melted into grief, and tears began to sting Albert's eyes as he thought of his beloved Wilma. She had died in childbirth long ago, and their infant son had lost his life to a birth defect shortly after. Albert had been alone ever since. Oh he thought of taking on another wife, and possibly adopting a child from an orphanage, but the mere idea felt like a betrayal to Wilma's memory. The time to acquire an heir had long come and gone, thanks to his stubborn emotions.

Salt water sprayed Albert in the face, pulling him out of his stupor. He blinked when he snapped back to reality, and warm dread slithered down his old bones as he remembered where he was. Bloody hell, how long had he been out here?! He fumbled through his pockets until he drew out his pocket watch. Bollocks, that's how long he'd been out here for?! What was he thinking? There was a storm coming! He should be home and grieving his lost cause there with another bottle of rum! Albert pocketed his watch and clumsily rose to his feet, his head throbbing. What was he thinking drinking so close to the shore? He could drown if he wasn't careful! The drunken lord was about to stumble his way home when it happened.

Lightning blazed across the sky, growing more frequent and violent as they scorched the clouds with an eerie light. Albert yelped and almost dove for cover when thunder clapped down upon him, the volume of its resounding 'BOOM!' nearly rendering him deaf. Heavy rain began pelting down on him shortly after like cold needles, drenching him within seconds. The old man scrambled to stay focused and keep moving, and then found himself drawn towards the sea. The sea? The ocean? Where was it? He blinked and squinted his eyes. The rain was coming down too fast and too hard! Between the torrential downpour and his half-drunken state of mind, he could barely even see the sea! Water suddenly churned around his feet, and Albert rubbed his eyes before peering beyond the shore once more. The tides were thrashing and surging at an alarming rate, in a way the old man had never seen before. 'What kind of a storm is this!?'

Albert's eyes widened. The waves had risen to an immeasurable size, and they were coming straight for him! Too little too late, the old man limped for his life before the ocean crashed down onto him. The wave swept inland, flooding the inner grasslands and coming dangerously close to the settlement. Then, as quickly as it crashed upon land, the sea pulled away, slowly withdrawing back to whence it came.

The old man lay flat against the shore, drenched and aching from the sheer force that had knocked him over. The sea had left him behind when it should have dragged him out to open water where he would surely have drowned. Why did it let him live? How was this possible? Albert tried to rise to his feet, only to fall back onto the sand. In his state, he may have lain there for the rest of the night had he not heard the crying. The old lord raised his throbbing head. Where was that crying coming from? It was making his headache worse…

Albert slowly pushed himself back up, oblivious to a small red crab watching him from afar as he tried to regain his bearings. He inhaled a few shaky breaths once he was back on his feet, which were already threatening to collapse under him again. Once he was fully adjusted, the old man looked around. The seas had calmed, the downpour had ceased, and the storm was beginning to disperse as quickly as it had arrived. On top of that, the tides had left an abundance of trinkets across the shore, far more than usual. Multiple shells, fish, seaweed, and varying degrees of lost items lay strewed about the beach as a result of the land-bound tides, but none of them caught Albert's eye. The old man took a step forward, collapsed, and forced himself back up again as he neared a massive pile of kelp clumped together like a thick green blanket. This is where the crying was coming from.

Albert fell onto his knees once he finally reached it. Was someone was trapped under this mess? Is that why they were crying? His pulse quickened. What if they were choking on breath? What was he doing just sitting here then?!

He started to pull the slimy strands away. "I'm-I'm coming!" He hollered in a dazed but determined voice, "Hold on!" When Albert ripped the last strand of kelp away, he froze.

It was a baby. A newborn baby girl wrapped partially within the bed of kelp as though wrapped in a bundle; flailing and crying as any distressed infant would.

Albert stared, completely bewildered by what he was looking at. Multiple questions bombarded his mind. How did this child get here? Is there a shipwreck nearby? Why was she wrapped up like this?

He reached out to touch the child to make sure it wasn't an illusion conjured by his half-drunken state, and recoiled when the baby grabbed at his hand. This was no dream, nor was it an illusion. It was real.

"Sh-shhhh," Albert tried to soothe the infant as he slowly reached out to pick her up. "You-you're alright, little one, you're alright." His hands, slimy from the kelp, were trembling from the night's events. It was not a good combination, so when he finally lifted the baby up out from the kelp bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around her like a makeshift cradle. "I've got you now, don't worry."

The newborn gurgled, calming down now that she was held within warm arms, and looked up at Albert. The old man did a double take. Her eyes were gray-blue, the strangest colored eyes he had ever seen. The gray reminded him of the violent, raging storm that brought her to him, while the blue reminded him of the sea when it was at ease, beautiful and hypnotic to look at...Keeping her close, Albert carefully examined her for any injuries. Nothing. Not even the tiniest of bruises, and yet this child couldn't be anymore than a few hours old. Albert's expression darkened. The infant couldn't have come from a nearby shipwreck; there wasn't any evidence of that from where he stood, and the way she was wrapped in the kelp…

Tales of sea nymphs, mermaids, and gill men suddenly rose from the inner depths of Albert's memory and, in a fit of panic, he checked the newborn's legs. They were perfectly normal. No scales, no fins, nothing to suggest the work of merfolk or mythological beings. Unconvinced, Albert checked the infant's neck for gills and paused. There was something wrapped around her neck. A necklace of turquoise? Albert trailed down the chain with a finger, tickling the newborn in the process, until he found the source. It was a locket, a beautiful, heart-shaped music box embedded with silver. His eyes widened, marveled at the sight. He had seen lockets before, but nothing so strange and wonderful as this. Keeping a firm but gentle hold on the baby, Albert examined the special trinket. Now that he got a better look at it, he noticed crab limbs and claws stretching out from either side of the locket, and the face of a woman was carved into the very center of it.

A chill ran down Albert's spine, though why he did not know. More questions to add to the already enormous list in his head, though it was clear he would not be getting any answers right now.

The old man focused on the child. She was calm now, and appeared to be staring at both him and the locket at the same time. Albert examined her and the kelp bundle she was found in. Now that he got a closer look at it, the bundle held more than just slimy strands. There were plants as well, ocean flowers and petals woven gently into the kelp-some he recognized, and others he had never seen before. Albert stared, and then turned back to the sea. As a result of the child, the flowers, and the sea, a peculiar image began to form in his head: a silver-blue flower blossoming from the depths of the sea, defying its harsh nature and unpredictability so it could flourish and grow. The image brought a sense of calm, and in-spite of all that occurred tonight, Albert found himself smiling.

He brought his attention back to the newborn. She was still looking up at him, this time with a smile of her own as though she were trying to imitate him. At that moment, the barriers Albert had held up since his wife's death broke down. Child of mermaids, sea nymphs, gods or not, the sea had given her to him. He would take care of her and raise her as though she were his own.

She would be his heir, she would be his hope!

"A gift from the sea." He paused and then shook his head. "No, not just a gift, a flower!" The clouds leftover from the storm dissipated as Albert declared, "a flower of the sea!"

"You found her where, sir?" Marion, the head housekeeper of the Barton mansion nearly shrieked her question later that night.

"I've told you already, haven't I?" Albert replied as he fidgeted with the child's locket, trying to pry it open. He gave the maid a dark look. "No one can know of this, understand? No one can know where she came from."

"I-I understand, my lord, truly! Bu-but-" Marion stuttered before turning to the room where the baby was currently resting. The Barton household had no room for infants or children, so until arrangements were made Albert had settled on letting the little one sleep in the guest bedroom. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph…"

Albert sighed, irritably. "What is it, Marion?" He looked back at the housekeeper and blinked when she made the symbol of the cross multiple times across her chest, and started praying. "What on Earth are you doing?"

Marion paused in her fit of prayer. "Th-that child came from the sea you said?" She started, "Then with all due respect sir, you must take her back!"

"I am the one who makes the decisions around here, not you!" Albert snapped and immediately regretted it. He expected this sort of response from Marion, and yet he couldn't help himself.

A high-pitched wailing came from the room the newborn was in, and guilt wrecked through Albert like a blacksmith's hammer. He had woken the infant up and scared her! This was not a good first impression… "I-I can't take her back, I don't even know who the parents are!" He tried to speak over the increasingly loud sobbing. "You know I can't…"

"She belongs to the sea!" Marion retorted. "If the sea brought her forth then the sea has claimed her! For God's sake my lord, please listen and send her back! She will bring nothing but ill-will to this island if you don't!"

Albert ignored the maid's misgivings, and continued working on the locket. Between the lord's ignorance and the child's bawling, Marion was about to lose it. "I know what you are thinking, Lord Barton, but she can't be your heir!"

The locket finally opened, and a melody began to unwind from within. The old lord and the superstitious housekeeper stared, their argument coming to an abrupt end. The melody was so unusual; it was like nothing either of them had ever heard before. The music carried a tune that spoke of great love and happiness, only to fall into tragedy and heartache as it flowed on. Memories of Wilma spurred within Albert's mind, while Marion suddenly choked on tears as both of them interpreted the song's emotions in their own way. So hypnotized by the melody were they, that when they finally snapped out of their musical trance, the newborn was no longer crying.

Albert and Marion gazed into the now silent guest room, and then back to each other. Marion opened her mouth to protest again, but Albert stopped her. "I know what you say, Marion, and after tonight I certainly have to question some of my beliefs." He started towards the room, keeping a firm hold on the locket. "But I don't believe this child is a bad omen." He approached the bed. The baby, washed and cleaned from the kelp grim, was curled up underneath a few layers of blankets; sound asleep by the music of the locket.

Albert watched over her with kind eyes before setting the locket down on the table next to her. "I've already given her a name: Flora." The wind whistled outside as the old man whispered the name again. "Flora Barton."

As Albert lay in his bed later that night, dreaming of strange and vague answers to his many questions, the child called Flora slept soundly to the locket melody. Pale shafts of moonlight shined through the windows of her room, revealing two ghostly figures standing by her bed. Figures that one could have sworn weren't there a second before. One resembled a robed woman who carried an unimaginable amount of power in-spite of her small size, while the other appeared to be a tall man wearing a large tricorn hat, and a beard that seemed to curl and writhe with a life of its own. The duo watched over their child with gentle eyes of varying shades of blue, both satisfied that the flower of the sea was in good hands.

The start of my origin/coming-of-age story for the non-existent child of Davy Jones and Calypso. A story and character I came up with looong long ago when I was in school revamped (because my original ideas were awful). I don't know if I will be able to finish Flora's story, but I hope you enjoy what I come up with none the less. I will try to put historically accurate facts of the time in, but the key word is 'try', I highly doubt I'll get the facts right. There will be mistakes and inconsistencies as well, but I will come back to make corrections overtime.

One last note: All five Pirates of the Caribbean films are mostly canon within this story. I say mostly because...let's be honest, Dead Men Tell No Tales/Salazar's Revenge was littered with so many plot holes and lore retcons that it broke the franchise for many people. So only parts of that movie will be canon here. Also, any possible sixth film or future movies starring Margot Robbie will not be canon with this fan fiction in the slightest.