More AU Fic
My Mom and I inaugurated the New Year by renting and watching Pirates of the Caribbean again. Astonishingly enough, this was her idea, not mine (I offered to set the DVD up on my laptop, but she wanted to see it on the TV screen, so we got the video).
Such a fun movie. And you know, the more I see it, the better Jack gets. Unsurprisingly, I spotted bits of Norrington/Jack subtext this time (though I saw nowhere near as much of it as I did of the Jack/Lizzie subtext). However, I still maintain that OT3 is the way to go. That scene at the end, with Will and Elizabeth announcing that their place is between Norrington and Jack, clinches it.
And, thanks to my movie-watching experience, here's another AU snippet.
The entire ship seemed to freeze; its attention riveted on the medallion in Elizabeth’s hand, dangling oh-so-precariously over the waters of the harbour. She felt a small surge of triumph as she watched the pirates’ eyes lock onto her, realising that her bluff had worked. Whatever this medallion was, they wanted it. Wanted it very badly, their captain’s claims to the contrary notwithstanding.
“What’s yer name, lass?” Captain Barbossa asked her, very carefully not moving closer to her, obviously afraid of starling her into dropping her little golden hostage.
Her name? Elizabeth stared into the pirate captain’s scarred face and tried desperately to think of an alias. She couldn’t allow them to learn who her father was, or they’d never agree to let her go. Elizabeth Smith-no, too obviously false. Elizabeth Bird. Elizabeth…
She tried to think of a name, an unprepossessing name, the sort of name a maid might have, but her mind had gone terrifyingly blank, and all she could think of was the last time she’d been face to face with a pirate like this, that very morning, the muzzle of his pistol pressed into the side of her skull. Barbossa was older, taller, less shabby and more grizzled, and nothing about the way he was standing before her was overtly threatening, but somehow, she felt as if that same gun were once again being held to her head.
Except that then, she had been not so much frightened as infuriated, livid at the smug smirk on her captor’s face, the hint of a grin as he stood motionless and waited for her to set his hat on his head and buckle his sword belt on. Were it not for that gun-and the fact that he had, after all just saved her from drowning-she would have done something far more painful than simply fastening his belt buckle a bit roughly, and ‘easy on the goods’ be blasted.
Now, anger was nowhere to be found, and in its place was a hollow, queasy nervousness, born of the knowledge that these pirates were not the sort to save strangers from drowning, nor were they the kind who were likely to let hostages go free unharmed.
Much more dangerous than Captain Jack-
“Sparrow,” she blurted out, aware suddenly that her silence was perilously near to stretching out too long. “Elizabeth Sparrow. I’m a maid in the governor’s household.”
Captain Barbossa’s eyes widened, and he regarded her with sudden speculation. Behind him, the rest of the pirates shifted and whispered among to one another. Elizabeth felt her stomach drop, as she realised that her night robe was far too fine to belong to a mere maid, even the governor’s maid. ‘Let him think I borrowed it,’ she prayed. ‘Let him think I grabbed up my mistress’s robe when his crew attacked. Please, please don’t let him guess.’
“And where did ye come by that trinket, Miss Sparrow?” Barbossa asked. He was looking at her now, not the medallion hanging from her fist, watching her face intently to try and catch her out in a lie.
“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean,” Elizabeth said, feeling almost offended by the insinuation in his voice, the tone that seemed to suggest that she was dishonest, sticky-fingered, like them. A maid would be offended by that sort of question too, wouldn’t she? Maids who stole were dismissed.
Barbossa simply smiled, looking almost amused, and she couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not. “Hand the bit o’ swag over, Missy, and the boys and I will leave Port Royal in peace. Do we have an accord?”
Elizabeth said nothing, simply held the gold pendant out to him.
Quick as lightning, he snatched it from her and handed it to the little monkey on his shoulder, who bit it once, almost as if her were a merchant checking its validity, and then scampered away with it into the rigging. “Boys,” Barbossa roared, “still the guns and call in the boats.”
There was a flurry of activity, and it seemed only moments before the thundering cannons were silenced and the last few boatfuls of pirates were back aboard and preparing to haul up the anchor. That was when Elizabeth realised that she wasn’t going to be leaving the ship.
“Wait,” she protested, catching Captain Barbossa by the arm. “You have to send out a boat. You have to take me back! The code-”
Barbossa rounded on her, half snarling, “I don’t have to do anything. Number one, you never included your release in the agreement, number two, the Code only applies to pirates anyway, and number three,” he paused, and smiled another of those malicious little smiles, “they’re more what you call guidelines than actual rules. Welcome to the Black Pearl, Miss Sparrow.”
He stepped forward and seized her chin in his hand, forcing it upward so that he could peer into her face. “Such an interesting name, Sparrow. I knew a man went by it, once. Pretty, like ye are. Had brown eyes, like yers. Was he the one who told ye about the code?”
Elizabeth tried to toss her head, to pull herself free of those hard, cruel fingers, but his grip was too tight. “Let go of me!” she said, trying to sound forceful, instead of terrified. He thought she was pretty. Oh no, oh dear Lord no.
“Yer too old to be his daughter, too young to be a wife. Ye’d have been naught but a girl when we dealt with him. A sister, are ye?” He leaned closer, grinning in a way that made her skin crawl. “Tell me, lass, did ye cry when yer big brother Jack left?”
Jack? Elizabeth’s entire body went cod with fear. He had recognised the name. And judging by the look in his cold, blue eyes, Captain Jack Sparrow wasn’t simply someone whose exploits he had read about in broadsheets, but a man whom he knew personally, and disliked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Barbossa’s fingers still gripped her jaw, pressing with almost bruising force.
“Don’t be foolish, Miss Sparrow,” he said, voice sounding almost patronising. “It doesn’t become ye. Now, I’ll ask ye again. Where did ye come by that coin?”
“I found it,” she told him. “Eight years ago. I-“ she couldn’t tell him about Will, mustn’t give him a reason to hunt him down, “I took it off a boy. A drowned boy.”
Barbossa froze for a moment, and then released her face in apparent disgust. “So the brat’s dead.” One hand rose to stroke his beard. “Dead. It be the heathen gods’ doing, I expect. They have his blood, then, or at least, his life. And all that’s left lacking is the coin.”
He smiled again, a cold, sneering little smile. “Ironic, isn’t it, Miss Sparrow? Yer brother gives me this ship, and ye give me the last thing I need to enjoy it again.”
“I am afraid you are mistaken, Captain,” Elizabeth said, still trying for a calm tone that she feared she was nowhere near reaching. All this talk of blood could not possibly be good. “I am no relation to Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“If yer no relation,” Barbossa said calmly, “then how would ye be knowing his name?” And then he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her about to face the leering eyes of the crew. “All of ye remember old Jack Sparrow, right boys?” he called out.
There was a chorus of assent, punctuated by grins and scattered sniggers.
“Well, this wench appears to be his kin.”
A louder chorus of sound, this time catcalls and shouted threats.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Barbossa’s ringed hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted it to his nose. “A shame we’ve no more use for pretty wenches.” He leaned close to her, and said into her ear, “it was very foolish of you to come out here, Miss Sparrow. Very foolish indeed. Ye see, we’ve a need for that stolen trinket of yers, but I’m afraid we’ve no need for ye.”
And that was when Elizabeth realised that she was almost certainly going to die.
Barbossa placed a hand in the centre of her back and shoved her forward into the mass of men on deck. “Send her to join her kinsman, boys,” he shouted, “and then make ready to sail.”
Such a fun movie. And you know, the more I see it, the better Jack gets. Unsurprisingly, I spotted bits of Norrington/Jack subtext this time (though I saw nowhere near as much of it as I did of the Jack/Lizzie subtext). However, I still maintain that OT3 is the way to go. That scene at the end, with Will and Elizabeth announcing that their place is between Norrington and Jack, clinches it.
And, thanks to my movie-watching experience, here's another AU snippet.
The entire ship seemed to freeze; its attention riveted on the medallion in Elizabeth’s hand, dangling oh-so-precariously over the waters of the harbour. She felt a small surge of triumph as she watched the pirates’ eyes lock onto her, realising that her bluff had worked. Whatever this medallion was, they wanted it. Wanted it very badly, their captain’s claims to the contrary notwithstanding.
“What’s yer name, lass?” Captain Barbossa asked her, very carefully not moving closer to her, obviously afraid of starling her into dropping her little golden hostage.
Her name? Elizabeth stared into the pirate captain’s scarred face and tried desperately to think of an alias. She couldn’t allow them to learn who her father was, or they’d never agree to let her go. Elizabeth Smith-no, too obviously false. Elizabeth Bird. Elizabeth…
She tried to think of a name, an unprepossessing name, the sort of name a maid might have, but her mind had gone terrifyingly blank, and all she could think of was the last time she’d been face to face with a pirate like this, that very morning, the muzzle of his pistol pressed into the side of her skull. Barbossa was older, taller, less shabby and more grizzled, and nothing about the way he was standing before her was overtly threatening, but somehow, she felt as if that same gun were once again being held to her head.
Except that then, she had been not so much frightened as infuriated, livid at the smug smirk on her captor’s face, the hint of a grin as he stood motionless and waited for her to set his hat on his head and buckle his sword belt on. Were it not for that gun-and the fact that he had, after all just saved her from drowning-she would have done something far more painful than simply fastening his belt buckle a bit roughly, and ‘easy on the goods’ be blasted.
Now, anger was nowhere to be found, and in its place was a hollow, queasy nervousness, born of the knowledge that these pirates were not the sort to save strangers from drowning, nor were they the kind who were likely to let hostages go free unharmed.
Much more dangerous than Captain Jack-
“Sparrow,” she blurted out, aware suddenly that her silence was perilously near to stretching out too long. “Elizabeth Sparrow. I’m a maid in the governor’s household.”
Captain Barbossa’s eyes widened, and he regarded her with sudden speculation. Behind him, the rest of the pirates shifted and whispered among to one another. Elizabeth felt her stomach drop, as she realised that her night robe was far too fine to belong to a mere maid, even the governor’s maid. ‘Let him think I borrowed it,’ she prayed. ‘Let him think I grabbed up my mistress’s robe when his crew attacked. Please, please don’t let him guess.’
“And where did ye come by that trinket, Miss Sparrow?” Barbossa asked. He was looking at her now, not the medallion hanging from her fist, watching her face intently to try and catch her out in a lie.
“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean,” Elizabeth said, feeling almost offended by the insinuation in his voice, the tone that seemed to suggest that she was dishonest, sticky-fingered, like them. A maid would be offended by that sort of question too, wouldn’t she? Maids who stole were dismissed.
Barbossa simply smiled, looking almost amused, and she couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not. “Hand the bit o’ swag over, Missy, and the boys and I will leave Port Royal in peace. Do we have an accord?”
Elizabeth said nothing, simply held the gold pendant out to him.
Quick as lightning, he snatched it from her and handed it to the little monkey on his shoulder, who bit it once, almost as if her were a merchant checking its validity, and then scampered away with it into the rigging. “Boys,” Barbossa roared, “still the guns and call in the boats.”
There was a flurry of activity, and it seemed only moments before the thundering cannons were silenced and the last few boatfuls of pirates were back aboard and preparing to haul up the anchor. That was when Elizabeth realised that she wasn’t going to be leaving the ship.
“Wait,” she protested, catching Captain Barbossa by the arm. “You have to send out a boat. You have to take me back! The code-”
Barbossa rounded on her, half snarling, “I don’t have to do anything. Number one, you never included your release in the agreement, number two, the Code only applies to pirates anyway, and number three,” he paused, and smiled another of those malicious little smiles, “they’re more what you call guidelines than actual rules. Welcome to the Black Pearl, Miss Sparrow.”
He stepped forward and seized her chin in his hand, forcing it upward so that he could peer into her face. “Such an interesting name, Sparrow. I knew a man went by it, once. Pretty, like ye are. Had brown eyes, like yers. Was he the one who told ye about the code?”
Elizabeth tried to toss her head, to pull herself free of those hard, cruel fingers, but his grip was too tight. “Let go of me!” she said, trying to sound forceful, instead of terrified. He thought she was pretty. Oh no, oh dear Lord no.
“Yer too old to be his daughter, too young to be a wife. Ye’d have been naught but a girl when we dealt with him. A sister, are ye?” He leaned closer, grinning in a way that made her skin crawl. “Tell me, lass, did ye cry when yer big brother Jack left?”
Jack? Elizabeth’s entire body went cod with fear. He had recognised the name. And judging by the look in his cold, blue eyes, Captain Jack Sparrow wasn’t simply someone whose exploits he had read about in broadsheets, but a man whom he knew personally, and disliked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Barbossa’s fingers still gripped her jaw, pressing with almost bruising force.
“Don’t be foolish, Miss Sparrow,” he said, voice sounding almost patronising. “It doesn’t become ye. Now, I’ll ask ye again. Where did ye come by that coin?”
“I found it,” she told him. “Eight years ago. I-“ she couldn’t tell him about Will, mustn’t give him a reason to hunt him down, “I took it off a boy. A drowned boy.”
Barbossa froze for a moment, and then released her face in apparent disgust. “So the brat’s dead.” One hand rose to stroke his beard. “Dead. It be the heathen gods’ doing, I expect. They have his blood, then, or at least, his life. And all that’s left lacking is the coin.”
He smiled again, a cold, sneering little smile. “Ironic, isn’t it, Miss Sparrow? Yer brother gives me this ship, and ye give me the last thing I need to enjoy it again.”
“I am afraid you are mistaken, Captain,” Elizabeth said, still trying for a calm tone that she feared she was nowhere near reaching. All this talk of blood could not possibly be good. “I am no relation to Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“If yer no relation,” Barbossa said calmly, “then how would ye be knowing his name?” And then he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her about to face the leering eyes of the crew. “All of ye remember old Jack Sparrow, right boys?” he called out.
There was a chorus of assent, punctuated by grins and scattered sniggers.
“Well, this wench appears to be his kin.”
A louder chorus of sound, this time catcalls and shouted threats.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Barbossa’s ringed hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted it to his nose. “A shame we’ve no more use for pretty wenches.” He leaned close to her, and said into her ear, “it was very foolish of you to come out here, Miss Sparrow. Very foolish indeed. Ye see, we’ve a need for that stolen trinket of yers, but I’m afraid we’ve no need for ye.”
And that was when Elizabeth realised that she was almost certainly going to die.
Barbossa placed a hand in the centre of her back and shoved her forward into the mass of men on deck. “Send her to join her kinsman, boys,” he shouted, “and then make ready to sail.”