Pirates of the Constant: The Curse of the Lunar Island Chapter 1: Fog Bound, a Pirates of the Caribbean + Don't Starve Crossover fanfic

Ladies and gentlemen, after a ridiculously long time (four years according to FFN), it's time for another Don't Starve movie rewrite! Granted it's not as long a time if you're following on AO3, but you knew ahead of time those were reruns. *bricked*

Trying to think what first got me thinking of a DS/PotC mashup and honestly I think it was just I liked the vibes together and tossed it out on a Tumblr post. Yes I know Klei did a swashbuckler set but I'm pretty sure I started doing this up before that...dang first had this idea in 2021. And yes, for once I intend to do all the movies. Even the fifth one. I have plans for the fifth one, i.e., make it actually watchable.

Moving on, we're focusing on the first/best movie first—playing the role of Will Turner is Wilson, figured the name was similar enough. XD

Playing the role of Elizabeth Swann...technically Willow but the governor's daughter here is going to be Wilba.

Playing the role of Captain Jack...you'll see. ;)

So without further ado...time for piracy.

It was dank, foggy and clammy, a chill in the air, and if it weren't for the fact that they were told pretty pointedly that they had been heading in the same direction for months Willow would have bet good money that they had ended up back in England.

They hadn't, apparently, the fog persisting for the entirety of the day, and since the nothing to look at switching from ocean to fog wasn't interesting, she focused again on playing with Wilba as they had been during the entire trip.

Now Wilba was technically the governor's daughter and above such truck as play, even as a child. This did not stop her, because as Willow had found out Wilba feared neither bugs nor mud nor anything less than Governor Warbucks catching her and giving her a scolding. That they were confined to a ship only kept her from getting muddy, really, and despite the fact that Willow was an orphan who was sent on this trip with several others to help bulk up the various settlements and reduce the demands on the orphanage, Wilba was more than happy to include her in the tea parties and swashbuckling pretend play that often got them in trouble.

If it weren't for the fact that Governor Warbucks was fond of spoiling her, they would have both been thrown off the ship long ago.

As it was, they were currently cantering near the prow of the ship, doing their best to peer ahead through the fog and bouncing around each other singing sea shanties for the fun of it, music of choice at the moment being one Willow had overheard some of the sailors singing.

"Yo-ho-yo-ho a pirate's life for me! We skulk, we pillage, we flame and ignite, drink up me hearties yo-ho! We're awful bad deadbeats and really a fright drink up me hearties yo-ho! Yo-ho-yo-ho a pirate's life for—"

"What mean ye, singing such a song as that!?" Woodlegs demanded, startling them. "And with us mired in such an unnatural fog as this? Where be yer sense, lassies?"

"It's just a song, sir," Wilba said.

"What is the meaning of this?" Captain Norrington asked, coming up.

"They was singin' about pirates, sir!" Woodlegs told him, pointing at Willow and Wilba. "Frightful bad luck, and us in our current state—you mark my words this'll end poorly!"

"Consider them marked," Norrington said mildly.

"We'll be having to have another conversation about discussing pirates where my daughter can hear," Warbucks said stiffly.

"Why? I find them fascinating!" Wilba said.

"Yes, that's the problem."

Wilba and Willow exchanged grimaces at that—yeah okay fair they had been reading every book Wilba had brought along on the subject of the Caribbean, with Wilba's main focus being on the pirates plaguing the area. Willow, meanwhile…well it was an improvement over rainy old England, sure, but in her opinion the Caribbean got a rating of 7.8/10, too much water. How much effort would it take to ship her just a bit north so she hit the American continent? She was reasonably sure there was a market for explorers there—

She had been staring at the sea breaking against the prow as she continued to muse—blinked at the sight of a parasol floating along. "Hey Wilba, look at this."

Wilba trotted over, peered where she pointed—"Who could have lost a parasol out here—wait we could be near land!"

No they couldn't, because Willow spotted something else floating as well. "Look! Look! There's a boy in the water!"

That got everyone's attention, sailors and navy men working to haul the unconscious boy off of the bit of flotsam he was clinging to and onto the ship, everyone fretting and checking and assuring themselves that yes he was alive—Warbucks assigned Wilba and Willow to keep an eye on him—

Woodlegs breathlessly invoking his Maker made everyone turn and look.

Willow had a moment where she was taken by the fire in its beauty before her mind asked the question of how was it burning in the middle of the ocean—had that answered when she realized that there was a ship under those flickering flames.

"It's possible the powder store ignited," Norrington said finally. "Merchant ships run heavily armed."

"Codswallop," Woodlegs spat. "Everyone's thinkin' it, I'm just sayin' it—pirates!"

"There's no proof of that," Warbucks argued.

Willow managed to tear herself from the sight of the fire and return her attention to the boy, as Wilba drifted closer to the adults talking about piracy. The boy was about their age and looking very much half-drowned—

And had something around his neck, she noticed.

Glance back at the others, gingerly slip a finger under the chain and start gently pulling—

Ended up with a silvery medallion in her hand, big enough to nestle nicely in her palm, with what looked like a weird eye in the middle. She had never seen a coin like this, but judging by the detail work….

"You're a pirate," she breathed—

Flinched back so hard she snapped the chain when the boy suddenly catapulted upright, gasping.

"Hey, it's okay!" she said, patting his back. "It's okay, you're with us now." Still looked terrified—"I'm Willow, by the way."

"W-Wilson," he managed, curling up on himself as he laid back down.

"I'm watching over you, Wilson," she assured him—kept her hands firmly clenched as Norrington came over and asked what happened, waited until everyone's attention was elsewhere again before pocketing the medallion. Even as young as he was, if anyone thought he was a pirate he'd be in big trouble. Scan the ocean as they left the beautiful fire behind—

Froze, staring, as she realized there was another ship out there, one slowly banking and turning away—

And in doing so, revealed a jagged maw of a prow.

Willow Ember Burnshigh awoke with a start.

It took her a few dazed moments to reorient herself and realize she was in the servants' quarters of the governor's mansion in Port Royal, frowned a little as she recalled her dream. At least once a month that memory plagued her in her sleep, usually around when the full moon graced the sky. It was weird, and while she preferred it over nightmares of drowning or being shipped back to dreary old England she wondered why that dream decided to be the one that popped up like a cuckoo on a cuckoo clock.

Speaking of, the one on the wall was demanding she get up.

Sigh, roll herself out of bed and got dressed, go build the fires up—her job specifically because she could do it so well, although she had to be told more than once to dial it back before she burned the mansion down. Like it was her fault fire was pretty.

She was also specifically Wilba's lady-in-waiting, which was why Willow saved her room for last so she could just turn around and turf Wilba out of bed.

"Nooo," Wilba moaned, keeping a firm grip on her pillow. "Five more minutes."

"You know, one of these days you're going to sleep right through a pirate raid," Willow told her, opening the blinds and letting the brilliant Caribbean sun in—it had been something like ten years since she first came here, and she didn't think she'd ever get tired of how bright and warm it was. "Your big pirate moment missed because you were sleeping like a log."

Wilba snorted and sat up, blinking owlishly at her. "Willow don't joke about that."

"Then get up out of bed."

Wilba sighed dramatically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead as she leaned back. "Ordered around by my own lady-in-waiting! You'd think you were the governor's daughter, to hear us talk."

"Nah, governor's daughter is too much like work," Willow said, getting out Wilba's underclothes before going to her closet. "You have to dress up and go to parties and sit with a rod strapped to your back…Wilba we need to talk about your closet everything in here is pink."

"Pink is a power color," Wilba insisted, getting up and tossing her pillow back onto her bed. Looked over at the door with her when a knock sounded. "Who is it?"

"Just me, dear," Governor Warbucks said, leading the way in and apparently counting me as himself and another servant, carrying a garment box. "It's good to see you up so early."

"This was Willow's fault," Wilba said, gesturing vaguely at Willow.

"I might have been more inclined to let you sleep in if it was raining," Willow offered, fluffing the pillow before putting it back.

"So it's the weather's fault."

"You needed to be up early anyway," Warbucks told her. "Today's the promotion—Commodore Norrington, you remember him."

"The handsomest navy man in the Caribbean," Wilba said, clapping her hands together. Willow focused on tucking the comforter in so the others wouldn't see her rolling her eyes.

"A fine man indeed. And for the occasion, I thought to get you something," Warbucks said, opening the garment box and pulling out a frilly, pale-yellow dress. "I hear this style is all the rage in London."

London probably also heard Wilba's excited squeal. "Ohhh thank you Daddy!" she yelled, hugging him tightly before taking the dress. "Ooh it's got lace and ribbons Willow I'm going to need your help tying this up."

"Governor Warbucks," one of the other servants said. "Mr. Higgsbury is here to see you."

"Ah—excuse me ladies, that'll be Norrington's sword."

Wilba waited until he was gone before eagerly shoving Willow to the door. "Go go go!"

"Go where?" Willow demanded. "What happened to the lace and ribbons and stuff?"

"Hey I can't be the only romantically inclined one here!" Wilba demanded. "Thou must follow thine heart, yon Willow," she said, dramatically collapsing on the fainting couch. "Ow."

"Ha ha, serves you right," Willow said. "Besides, I'm not romantically inclined. Wilson is just…interesting."

"So's Norrington," Wilba said, sitting up. "You can be interested in a guy and romantically inclined."

"Mmm, not feeling it."

"You will," Wilba said, going to the mirror and straightening her hair. "I have plans for plenty of feelings about Norrington—especially, hopefully, the bit where he takes me along on his journeys and we have plenty of swashbuckling adventures."

"Most likely he leaves you here on the fainting couch."

"Hush you," Wilba said, waving her off. "Keep that up and I won't take you with me to fight pirates all day long."

"You're the governor's daughter, they won't let you fight pirates."

"Oi Willow I think I liked it better when we were kids and you were all gung-ho about all this—what changed?"

What indeed—fiddle through her shirt with the coin she wore nearly every day, reflecting again on the day she had met Wilson—the day they had come across the ship ravaged by pirates, when she had seen that strange toothy-looking black ship—

"Hey, are you listening to me?"

"Hmm? Sorry, I was busy not paying attention," Willow said.

Wilba huffed. "You're lucky I like you. Seriously, what's up with you today?"

"Eh, weird dream last night."

"Ooh, do tell."

"Well, you remember when we first met Wilson—"

"You dreamt about him?" Wilba squealed. "That's it, it's fate, we're running you downstairs right now—actually in a minute we got to get you just a bit more presentable—"

"Wilba NO—"

Oi.

So for those of you just joining us, one Wilson Percival Higgsbury, gentleman scientist, blacksmith, general dogsbody, etc., was sincerely hoping that the governor didn't notice the candelabra he had accidentally broken while waiting for him.

Fortunately, said governor was too busy being taken with the sword, saying how well it would suit Norrington—"You'll have to pass my compliments on to your master, Higgsbury."

Wilson perked at that, took everything he had to hold his tongue. "I shall. A craftsman always appreciates his work being complimented." Especially considering Wagstaff wasn't the one responsible for that sword.

Granted mentioning this would get him cuffed around the ears for impertinence, so he was just going to stick with internally preening while keeping as neutral a face as possible, nodding as Warbucks put the sword away and handed it to one of his servants to put in the carriage to take to the fort—

"Oh, Mr. Higgsbury!"

Everyone looked up at that, Wilson taking note of Wilba trotting down the stairs at a speed that wasn't strictly proper for a lady, and behind her, like she was caught in her wake and had no choice but to keep up—

Willow.

Willow Ember Burnshigh, the girl who haunted his dreams since before he even realized he liked girls. Apparently today she had been caught victim by Wilba's dress-up attempts, and while the end result had similarities to being tarred and feathered with peacock feathers, Wilba's best efforts hadn't diminished Willow's appearance in the slightest.

"Miss Burnshigh," Wilson greeted when he found his tongue again. "You look—" Beautiful. Exemplary. Amazing. "You look well," he managed finally, after finding something that wouldn't result in him making a fool of himself.

Willow gave him a flat look and then the barest of eyebrow raises at Wilba. "Thanks, I think. Say you got sharp objects, right? Wilba shoved me in something from London and it's literally squeezing the life out of me."

"They're called corsets, they're all the rage back in London," Wilba assured them. "Oh, Mr. Higgsbury, Willow had a dream about you last night—"

"What," Wilson blurted, about the same time Governor Warbucks said "Now that's not appropriate talk—"

"It was just about the day we met, she's making it sound bigger than it is," Willow said, waving her off. "You know, burning shipwreck, you spent most of the day sleeping—"

"We're heading up to the fort for Norrington's promotion, you should come with us," Wilba said brightly, motioning them together slightly. "Maybe seeing you two together will drop a few hints for Norrington to pick up about how nice couples look together."

So at least Willow was spluttering along with him at such improper speak—forget that he would love nothing more than that…he had never done anything that was worthy of her attention. He was still a blacksmith's apprentice, for crying out loud, and his inventions attracted more ire than they were worth. No, he was still bottom of the barrel, couldn't support her if he wanted to (and he did, very much so)…she deserved better.

"Now that's enough," Governor Warbucks said. "Ladies, we need to get to the fort. Mister Higgsbury, I'm sure you need to get back to the forge, Wagstaff wouldn't tolerate dallying."

"Daddy, it's not dallying," Wilba said, like he was being dense on purpose.

"Ah—n-no he's right, really should be—besides I'm not dressed for the occasion—" Wilson stammered.

"I'm sure we can throw you into something more appropriate."

"Wilba, when I said we need to get to the fort I meant we need to leave now," Governor Warbucks said sternly. "It won't do for the governor himself to be late to the ceremony!"

"Daddy."

"Nah, he's right," Willow said, pushing Wilba along and giving Wilson a look he couldn't decipher. "Good day, Mr. Higgsbury."

It took him until he was out by the gate and watching their carriage roll away that Wilson finally found his tongue again.

"Good day…Willow."