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1. all my aching bones are trembling
Humming a song under your breath, you press your lips to your bottle of rum and take a swig. It burns your throat and bulges your eyes, but it’s the only thing you taste anymore. God, you’ve really been around Jack a bit too much, haven’t you?
The lights of Tortuga glow around you, almost a trail of fireflies leading the way to the pub. You suppose Gibbs and Jack should be done by now, found a crew that’ll hopefully lead you all to this key. Davy Jones, Flying Dutchman, blah blah blah, some wild adventure that ought to drag you to the ends of the world.
As much as you love being a pirate, you do find it hard to keep up with all that.
You hook your viola to your waistband, running your fingers over its strings. The moment this whole mess is over, you’re getting her looked at. Too many beatings. Speaking of which, you eye the nearby pub where your partners in crime should be. Each step has more swagger as you approach the entry.
A groan coming from the pig pen stops you flat.
Raising an eyebrow, you make a slow turn towards the pen to find someone lying inside. He's not moving, which is an awful sign. You wonder if helping him is worth being charged with murder of a British soldier. Then, your second thought is you’ve already killed a few British soldiers, and you should really get over there and check on him.
A few cautious steps forward, and you notice that this guy is awfully close to being dead. He’s soaked in mud from the pen, but there’s underlying dirt sticking to his powdered hair. However, he’s not breathing as far as you can tell, which is not a good sign. You step into the pig pen, holding up your jacket so as to not dirty it.
“Are you dead?” Great, ever so eloquent. Besides, dead parties don’t tend to answer.
He responds with another groan. Huh, he’s alive then.
Creeping closer, you decide to raise his head out of the mud, exposing him to the world. You met with a face that you did not expect.
“Commodore?” You spit out automatically, to which he shoots you a glare. A mud covered, drunken glare. Oh, this is kind of priceless, you wonder. The Commodore, someone who’d been out for the death of all pirates, is now getting saved by one.
“I’m not dead,” He slurs out, “And former commodore.”
“Well, I’m not dead either!” You smile, trying to lighten the mood, “And I’m a current pirate, pleasure to meet you. Now, do tell, what brings you to Tortuga’s…pig pen?”
His face scrunches up like someone nasty has been placed under his nose, “A pirate. That’s why I know you. You’re one of Jack’s, aren’t you?”
“I’m not one of Jack’s,” You mimic his tone, lifting him up to a sitting position, “I’m Captain Orpheus, thank you very much, and you’d ought to treat the person pulling you from this shithole with a bit of respect.”
“I owe you no respect,” The former commodore spits out, and you click your tongue. You’d be offended if he didn’t look so utterly pathetic. Then, he laughs to himself. “Orpheus? What kind of pirate name is Orpheus?”
“What kind of name is Norrington?” You click your tongue.
“A fine name!” He’s fiery, but the slur of his voice makes it hard for you to take him seriously.
“Alright, c’mon,” You pull him towards you, and all his drunken self can do is groan in disapproval, “I’ll get you fixed up at my ship, cleaned up as well, and all that jazz. We’re looking for some help anyway, you could crash and work with us.”
“Why?” His voice is muffled against your chest, and he leans back to speak to you. His eyes are so wide, so dark that you can pick out the shades of emerald in them. You’d never noticed that while he stood at the opposition’s brig. “Why are you helping me?”
Your eyes twinkle, “Why can't a pirate find it within the goodness of their heart to save an old friend from their self made fate?”
“I tried to kill you,” Norrington tries to stand, legs shaking so much that you have to catch him. His mud soaks into your leather coat, and your nose twitches. There goes your attempt at somewhat cleanliness. “Multiple times. I tried to kill your captain, your friends, everyone you care about.”
“And look where that got you, eh?” You chuckle, before realizing something he said, “And Jack is not my Captain! I told you, I have my own ship.”
“Ah yes, Captain Orpheus ,” Norrington slings an arm around your shoulder, and leans against you. Of course, he nearly slips out from beneath himself due to the mud. The two of you begin walking forward, out of the pen and towards the docks.
“I do!” You exclaim, silently proud when he winces at your volume, “She’s just…sunk, as of late.”
Norrington notices you clutching a bottle of booze, and is quick to reach for it. His drunkenness has rendered him rather slow however, as you slip out of the way. All of his body weight plunges him forward and about to fall into the pen again. You catch him by the jacket, him hanging from literal threads.
“How drunk are you, Norrington?” You inquire.
He laughs, charmed at the idea he’s drunk, turning to face you. Then his head falls into your chest, snoring all the way. Huh. What a strange man. You decide that he’s better alive than dead, and pull him onto your shoulder. Carrying him like a sack of potatoes, you roll your eyes. You can’t go to the pub now you suppose.
2. and i may yet fall apart
“You missed a spot,” You kick Norrington, gesturing with your foot to a part of the deck. He scoffs, turning up to you with a look of utter dismay. The powder is gone from his hair, scraggly brown hair dipping in front of his face. You rather like him better this way, much more real. He could be any member of a pirate crew like this.
“Did I, now?” He bites his tongue and begins to scrub, the hot sun burning into his skin. Scrubbing the deck three days in a row? Someone has something against him. You don’t blame them, per say, but still.
“You know,” You stand in front of him, forcing him to look up at you, “When I thought I’d like you on your knees, this isn’t what I was thinking of.”
Much to your glee, Norrington immediately turns a violent shade of scarlet, flying back. It’s like he’s never heard an innuendo in his life. He looks absolutely disgusted, repulsed at the idea of you saying such a thing, but there’s something else in his eyes. Oh? Rather interesting, if you do say so yourself.
“Excuse me?” Norrington cries, and a few heads turn, “How dare you speak like that-”
“Or what?” You grin from ear to ear, bending down to be at eye level, “What are you going to do to me, hm?”
Norrington stares at you, eyes burning with fury, before he looks away, utterly beat. He’s about to return to his scrubbing, but you still stay there, staring at him. A beat, before he’s looking back at you with hesitance.
“What do you want?” He mutters, a little smaller than he was before.
“Nothing,” You sit beside him, the boat swaying beneath your frame. “How long’s it been since you ate something?”
“Why’s it matter?” Norrington spits back, before his stomach growles. Giving himself away now? He won’t last a day on the Black Pearl without your help. And while you’re stuck here, he offers an interesting project. So, from your pockets, you pull out a bright green apple, and place it in front of Norrington.
He eyes it wearily, glancing between the apple and yourself. You nod, gesturing forward, and he pounces. You’re reminded of a dog as he snatches the apple and gnaws it to its very core. Every single morsel of the apple is devoured, all while you watch with wide eyes. Then, he stops, noticing you watching. Silently, Norrington begins to slow down, trying to appear more civilized.
“There’ll be more where that came from,” You crack your neck, “Do you not eat with the others?”
He huffs, turning away from you. How long will it take to win over this buffon?
“Look, you can either tell me why you haven’t been eating,” You click your tongue, trying to think of a deal. “Or, we can sit here in silence, not learning anything about each other.”
Norrington appears to pick the latter, pulling up his knees to eat the apple. No other members approach the two of you with a former Captain around, especially the likes of you. You wonder how long it will take for the former Commodore to realize who he’s been hanging around.
You sigh, allowing your hair to blow softly in the wind. It’s a rather nice day on the sea, a light breeze blowing in the wind. The clouds billow across the sky, and you smile. That is, until you spot Elizabeth and Jack, arguing about one thing or another in the Captain’s Quarters. It’s so lovely and calm, the sun beaming down on your skin, and they’re both still squabbling like five-year olds. The only reason you’re on this god awful ship is because you thought Jack Sparrow could give your life some adventure. So far, it’s been rather subpar.
“They steal my food,” Norrington pipes up, and you turn to him, surprised at his voice, “The crew, that is. They don’t like me very much.”
“And what’d you do to piss them off?” You raise an eyebrow.
“They’re pirates, there’s no rhyme or reason.” Norrington gestures wildly when he talks, you notice. When you’d seen him in the Navy, he’d seemed so calm and controlled. You suppose that was one of the few times you’ve been wrong.
“Oh, that’s not true,” You say, “Maybe not always reason, but there’s a hint of rhyme here and there.”
Norrington looks at you and rolls his eyes, and you smile. You could break him ever so easily, you think to yourself. So weakened, so innocent. Does not understand how the ways of the world work. Nevertheless, you opt to instead draw a flask from your hip and take a swig.
“I don’t suppose you’d get it,” He eyes the rag in his hands, “You’re one of them after all.”
“Drats, you’ve figured me out,” You snap your fingers, giggling. “Was it the Captain title, or was it the fact we’re on a pirate ship?”
“You know, for a Captain, you seem awfully being bossed around by that Sparrow,” Norrington eyes you, and you know he’s trying to get a reaction. You won’t give one.
“Jack’s harmless to me,” You say, “He knows to respect my status.”
“Then why are you answering to him?” Norrington asks.
“A favor,” you shrug. “Jack’s saved my skin more times than I can count, I’m just paying it back.”
“So what?” He says, “No stakes in this fight?”
“Beckett or Jones, it’s all the same to me,” You blow a wisp of hair from your face. “My orders come from something much greater.”
“Commodore! Back to your post,” Gibbs calls out from behind you two, and you turn to see him giving you a look. A look of Stop interrupting my crew’s work. You sigh, standing up and brushing off your clothes. Norrington is watching you very closely, you realize.
“Well, that means it’s off to settle another squabble,” Your bones crack when you stretch, raising your arms to the sun. “I’ll be back though.”
“You will?” He asks, genuinely surprised, before burying that behind a face of snob. “Don’t. It interrupts my work.”
“Whatever you say, Commodore .” You giggle to yourself, making sure to dig in your heels before you leave. A dirt spot remains when you walk away. “Oh, and you missed a spot!”
You let out a full laugh when he sneers. Maybe this will be more interesting than you think.
3. won't you stay with me, my darling?
“Oi, Norrington,” You call, waltzing towards his usual spot by the cannons. He’s usually waiting for you here by now. You’ve met with him a few times before, ‘surprisingly’ showing up at his position to distract him with food and stories. While you’re not one hundred percent sure he’s not fully in it for the food, you think you have good odds that he genuinely likes you now. Maybe with the way he’s begun to stop rolling his eyes at you every time you meet.
But when he’s not scrubbing his usual spot, you have a bad feeling. A few crew members lounge around the deck, to which you turn to them. Their eyes widen with understanding at who you are, and one of them begins digging their arm into the other's ribs.
“Hey there,” You walk towards them, hand resting not on the hilt of your sword, but on your viola. They shudder. “Might you know where the former Commodore might be? Strong build, dark hair?”
The one with the fake eye squeaks at your focus, “I-I don’t know! I heard some guys talking about him below deck!”
The stouter one nods, “Yup, what he said. We have no clue.”
You walk up a little closer, hoping they can feel your presence in the air. The stout one shakes, gripping onto his lanky companion for dear life. They aren’t lying, you can tell that much. They’re awful at it. You step away, instead opting to head to the crew’s quarters.
What you find is concerning .
Norrington is being choked out against the wall, gagged and beaten up rather badly. You see the black eye blooming on his face, the blood dripping from his hair. He can barely keep his head up from the sight of it, a slice decorating his cheek. Surrounding him appears to be a few of Jack’s crew. The lower ones, the ones that never caught your eye. Upsetting.
“Let’s see,” The one holding him says, a man with silver hair, “What else did you say about pirates? We’re mangy, filthy creatures-”
Norrington only groans in response. They all laugh, the silver-haired one continuing. “And yet you’re the one sailing under our crew? How the mighty do fall.”
“And the moment we get our taste of revenge,” A mangy looking one cries, “You go crying to a pirate lord!”
“Well, now it’s time for that to change.” The silver-haired tightens his grip, about to enact his final revenge.
That is, until the strum of a viola fills the air.
Everyone, even Norrington, stills at the sound. It hums in the air, standing up the hair on the back of one’s neck. It chokes in the air, pulsing with potential power that none of them have stood in the wake of. Something inhuman digs its claws into their hearts, and the silver-haired one turns around to the entrance.
You stand there, viola tucks under your neck, a smirk on your face. “Evening gentlemen.”
They scatter like rats. You’ll get them later you suppose, haunt their nightmares with the music of the dead. In the meanwhile, you skip to the Commodore, who can’t even look up at you. He slides down against the wall, standing up straight just barely. When he sees your feet, he shoots up in fear, but softens when it’s just you.
You rip off the gag, “What the hell happened?”
He spits out blood on the floor, “I don’t need your saving.”
“Yeah, well, from your current state, you very much do.” You step towards him, and he collapses into your arms. You sweep him up, gentler than you expected yourself to be. “Breath, Norrington. I’ll get you fixed up.”
He’s heavier than you expected, layers of muscle and grim weighing down his form. However, you’ve been a pirate longer than you can remember, so you’ve built up quite a bit of strength. You pull him up, bridal style, carrying him through the door and towards your quarters. Norrington’s cheeks are dusted with pink.
While Jack might be the Captain of the Black Pearl, he wasn’t the only one inhabiting the Captain’s Quarters as of late. When he’d swayed you to sail alongside him, you’d convinced (some might say forced) him to give up a spot and a bed to sleep in for you. He’d agreed, half because he rarely slept in there and half because he had little to stop you with. So most nights when you chose to get some shut eye, Jack was off somewhere on deck, collapsed in a drunken stupor.
That came in your favor, for when you entered your place of rest, he was nowhere to be found. Less explaining. You lay out the former Commodore, resting his head on your pillow and watching him wince. Snatching a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf, you begin to clean his wounds.
It’s a mostly silent process. Norrington watches you carefully, too injured to talk back. He looks like prey, backed into a corner and scared to reveal his true hand. You press a piece of cloth covered in antiseptic to his cheek, and he winces.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” You whisper, sitting beside him on the bed. “No one’s going to come in here, it’ll be fine.”
Norrington still stares at you, waiting for you to pounce.
“Are you ever going to trust me?” You smile at him, lightening the mood.
“You’re a pirate,” He sneers.
“And you’re hurt,” You try to wipe some of the blood from his face. “Now, why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”
Norrington goes quiet, “I can handle it myself.”
“You don’t have to,” You respond.
“I’m not a child who needs saving,” He spits back at you.
“Can’t a friend just help someone out?” You tilt your head. Instead of his expected immediate denial, his eyes widen like saucers. Like all the things he expected you to say, this is not one of them. “Did you not think we were friends?”
“I-” He recomposes himself, “I don’t need to be friends with a pirate like you.”
“No one needs friends,” You shrug, “You kind of just find them. You…have had friends before, haven’t you?”
His shoulders tighten, “Of course I’ve had friends.”
You don’t believe him. You see the way his eyes avoid you, how he seems to wilt at the word itself. Faster than you can realize what you’re doing, you reach out to tilt his face towards yours. You cup his face, surprised at how warm he is against your touch. His skin is soft, not like the roughness of the average pirate. It’s smooth and delicate. His beard bristles against your hand, and he stares up at you.
Somehow, you always manage to catch him off guard, because he looks up at you like you’ve hung the stars. Like you’re the first person who’s trying to see him for all that he is. Maybe you are. He leans into your hand like no one has held him, and you see his ache for human touch written across his face. An awful poker face from the look of it.
“I don’t believe you,” You murmur, so soft that it sends a shiver down his spine.
“What do you want from me?” He croaks, and you wonder if you’ll ever see him this soft ever again. “I don’t have any money, nor any weight behind my words. I am weak and lonely and miserable. I don’t wish to be led along like this.”
“You have brilliant eyes Norrington,” You whisper.
“James,” He says back, faster than he has time to process. “My name is James.”
“James.” You test the name on your tongue, and you notice how he nearly melts. You wonder how long it has been since someone has said his name with such softness, such gentle tone. You don’t think anyone has been gentle with James in a very long time. Your hand slips out from under his cheek and back to your attempt at healing. He almost looks disappointed if you squint.
Neither of you speak for the rest of the night, the silent pitter-patter of your hearts filling the room.
4. when the war starts in my heart?
His voice slices through your melody.
“I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” James speaks, and you stop playing for a second. Now that is interesting. Then, you return to your sinful melody, trying to match the pitch of the ocean.
The sun is threatening to dip beneath the horizon, warmth humming in the air. You bask in the glow, sitting in the Crow’s Nest and trying to find a new song. Something new, something exciting. Except all you could wallow in was the same old melancholy hymn. It’d been infuriating.
James’ statement reinvigorates something in you. You readjust your bow, modulating the key to something a bit brighter. He huffs. You’re still stuck in your musical rut.
“Did you hear me?” James says again, adjusting his posture. Rarely would you find anyone willing to venture up here when you wallowed. But over the weeks the two of you have spent in each other’s company, he seems to trust you ever so slightly. Or maybe he trusts you more than the entire sea. It’s strange, the more you get to know him, the harder it is to read him.
You don’t respond, staring out into the sea. Your feet are dangling off the edge of the railing, while you sit on top of it. A precarious place to stand, but it’s where you feel the most alive.
“I’m going to take Jones’ Heart,” He raises his voice, “Once we find it tomorrow, steal the pardon papers, and go back to Beckett. He’ll give me back my old position, and we’ll be back where we started.”
You don’t even acknowledge him, eyes glistening with sunlight.
“Are you even listening?” He walks closer to you, ripping your shoulder back to look you in the eyes. James meets your eyes, unreadable and untraceable.
“Do you want me to object?” You ask, tilting your head.
“No, I just…” He breathes through his nose, careful and concise, “I wanted you to know.”
Oh . You notice the way he’s standing, the hesitance written across his face. He wants to leave, he wants to run away and find safety within the Navy, that much is obvious. But there’s something else hidden beneath his form, beneath layers of muscle and grime. Between all of that is you, the only person he appears to have any attachment to besides Elizabeth, but she seems to have little interest.
What is he attempting here?
“And why is that?” You hook your viola to your waist, spinning around to face him. You have height on him from your position, but not enough that he’s looking up to you. Instead, you two are both looking straight ahead. One with fear, the other with nothing at all.
“I, I don’t-” He begins, but you finish.
“Do you want me to stop you?” For the great former Commodore, James is rather easy to scare. You notice the way his leg is shaking, how he is struggling to match your eyes. Sure, he’s gone face to face with some of the most dastardly pirates. None of them had been you.
“No,” He says, breathless, “I don’t.”
“I won’t stop you,” You press up closer, “I told you, there’s no stakes in this fight for me. Whoever wins wins, and that is how the cards fall. I don’t care which side you’re on, and the moment you’re gone you’ll be just another soldier to me.”
He flinches, like he’s been slapped. You wonder why those words taste so sour.
“Then tell me, Mr. James Norrington,” You lean close, so close that there’s barely anything separating the two of you, “You’ve asked me many a time, but I believe it’s my turn. What do you want from me?”
James Norrington, in all his posh and beauty, presses his lips against you and steals the words from your mouth. He pulls you down from the railing into his arms, so soft and tender that your eyes widen. His are shut, tears brewing at the edge of them. No one, not in ten years, has ever rendered you speechless in your entire life. James Norrington is the first.
So, you lean in and kiss back. You’ve kissed a few people in your past, but they’d all been meaningless. A simple fling, a night that would end. They’ve never felt as meaningless as they do now. James kisses you with passion, an explosion of adoration that is rather strange to you. No one’s ever kissed you like that before. No one’s ever cared enough to try. Maybe you could get used to kissing former British Navymen.
He tastes of the sea. Hell, he smells like the sea, fresh and familiar against your palate. An underlying scent of rum, mixed with the salty air.
For a second, you’re nervous that you’re not good enough to kiss someone of such value, and you want to laugh. One kiss, and he has you a lovestruck mess. When Tia Dalma told you love was a man’s weakness, you didn’t think it was this bad.
“Come with me,” He whispers into the kiss. “Beckett can pardon you, I know it. We can run away, find a home in Port Naval. I’m not much…but I’ll be good to you, I promise.”
“I can’t.” You wonder if two words have ever broken your heart more.
“Why not?” James’ eyes are utterly enraptured with you, and you want to laugh. You want to laugh till you cry, because the first truly interesting thing to happen to you is dead stuck on breaking your heart.
“Beckett won’t pardon me,” You run your hand through James’ hair. “He can’t.”
“I’ll make him,” James tries to convince you. “He doesn’t know who you are, he won’t mind pushing aside one little pirate.”
“He knows,” You interrupt, pressing your hand to James' chest. You cannot meet his eyes. “I…I’m much more than I think you know.” He waits on bated breaths, waiting for your explanation. The words will not come.
The music does.
The viola does not need a bow, nor does it need your fingers. It responds to the call of your heart, the call of the ocean itself. You feel her breath against your side, igniting something in the air. They’re small, barely noticeable, as the sun finally dips beneath the oceans’ horizon. But darkness does not fall.
Instead, light like fireflies illuminates the crows nest you both stand in. Your song begins to echo throughout the ocean, ringing through every seaman’s heart. James somehow looks even more beautiful than before in this light.
“Captain Orpheus is not my name,” You finally look up, to see his wonder-filled eyes. “It is a title. I was given it when I was very young.” You look up to the sky, watching the stars twinkle back. “I am one of the Brethren Court, one of the ten pirate lords.”
“How?” He asks, one of the lights blowing past a rouge strand of his hair.
“We are touched by the Gods, in one way or another,” You pull back your shirt to reveal a tattoo, just upon your chest. A lyre, in front of a beautiful trident. “It is said that each and every captain who bears this title is a siren, a being from beyond this world. Beckett would see it on me in an instance, and even he knows that we cannot give up that title. It is in our blood.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” James mumbles against your forehead, pressing a kiss against it.
“Do you know the story of Orpheus?” You lean into his lips. “Don’t you know all the reasons you shouldn’t love me?”
He’s soft. You want to tell him you don’t want to leave either, and that you don’t want to be alone again. That maybe a tiny part of you wishes you’d never been born to be Orpheus in the first place.
You instead kiss him again, brash and messy. You kiss him till you are breathless, till you can no longer hear the ringing of a viola. Until everything around you doesn’t matter, a world where tomorrows do not come and handsome men in dark clothes do not make you wish you weren’t a pirate. You kiss him in every way you know how.
Tomorrow, you will be Captain Orpheus. Tonight, you will be selfish and allow yourself to believe that someone as good as James Norrington could love you.
I’m sorry, you seem to say.
I know , is what he responds with. Then, Me too.
5. ashes, ashes, dust to dust
It’s not on any ship of yours that your heart finally breaks.
Sao Feng, famous pirate lord, is dead in front of you. That’s not what breaks your heart, of course. Elizabeth is whisking him away into the afterlife, shutting his eyes for the final time, and you eye the piece of eight around her neck. He must’ve truly believed she was Calypso. Of course he took you with her, the only known pirate with a connection to the gods.
“We need to go,” You place a hand to her shoulder, and she stands up. Explosions are ringing outside, and you have an awfully bad feeling.
“What does this make me?” She questions the necklace Sao Feng placed around her in his last minutes.
“Captain of this ship. A ship that is going to sink at this rate. Now, c’mon.” You grab her hand and make a mad dash to the deck, trying to understand who has attacked your kidnapper. Eventually she regains her footing, the both of you matching pace.
The door to the deck flies open, and you feel the coldness of a blade press against your neck. You try to gesture to Elizabeth to turn back, but she’s already storming out from behind you, trapped as well. You recognize the blade, the smell of powder in their wigs. These are British Navymen, and you click your tongue. Beckett’s men. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
You turn to the soldier holding you back, a lanky man with a rather sharp nose. “So, come around here often?”
He’s confused enough that he does not notice you strum your fingers against your viola, a simplistic melody. It does the job, and you see his eyes glaze over slightly. In that moment, you force him off you with sheer strength, landing a quick punch to the face. He’s knocked out cold by the looks of it.
Stepping over him, you notice that Sao Feng’s men appear to be losing to the Brits. You really would love to go hog-wild, stir things up in a way it's never been stirred before. You unhook your viola and press it to your neck. But still, you’re stuck on this god-awful rut, and you can’t think of a song that’ll truly explode this boat. Instead, you opt to go for a melancholy, andante tune that has plagued you for months now.
The world around you slows, and you notice Elizabeth, who has escaped her attacker, rather confused. She moves at normal speed, while you close your eyes, enraptured in the melody. The same song, but it still rings true, you suppose.
Someone hears your song, someone’s feet stop pounding across the deck. You feel each and every person’s soul vibrating across the deck, each a different tempo. A different pulse. You feel one of them stop, feel them turn their head to you and watch you. You’ve always been good with a crowd.
Your eyes open, just for a moment, to enjoy the view of your audience. Familiar, green eyes bare into your souls. Eyes that wow you, even from far away, and you notice the glint of a sword so close to his skin. A horrible screech erupts from your viola, catching you off guard. The entire boat comes back to normal speed, and they all stop to stare at the person who froze them in time. Everyone does, even the one who stopped you from your trance.
All but the one attempting to hurt him, who’s dead on the ground.
Someone takes the chance to use their pistol like a club and knock you out. You immediately collapse to the ground.
(Maybe if you’d been awake, you would feel someone catch you. Strong, safe arms that are afraid to let go. Arms that hold you and argue for you to be held safe in his quarters, but eventually lose you to the sound of Davy Jones’ song.)
When you wake, your head pounds. Elizabeth’s the first thing that comes into focus, a rather pretty frame. Her eyes widen when you groan, and she helps you to stand. The rest of her crew stands around you, watching.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“Peachy,” You moan, using your hand to keep your head up. “How long was I out?”
“A while.” She bites her lip. You decide to lie back in the shadows, eyeing the crew around you.
“So, Calypso ,” You pick out some grime from beneath your nail, “What’d we do now?”
“Well, I don’t suppose you have any secret trump cards, do you?” She turns to you, attempting a smile.
“Seeing as I don’t have my viola,” You put out your empty hands, “I can’t do much of anything without it. Besides, you’re the one with a crew now.”
She huffs, and you giggle. The sound of footsteps echoes next to the jail cell, and you both shoot up straight. A beat, and you nod to her. You both know how to take someone, much less with a skilled partner.
Except, the person who comes out startles you both. You especially.
He’s much cleaner than the last time you saw him. James stands in front of an open door, iridescent. Perfect. Not yours to look at. Not yours. You watch his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, the way his eyes dash about the cell. They linger on Elizabeth, if only for a moment, before moving on. You try to remember every single detail about him, applying it to the collage of him in your brain. A strand of white falls from his ponytail. You feel the urge to tuck in behind his ear.
You sit up, and you watch his hand naturally go to his sword. No one else, not even Swann, moves. They’re all stuck on him, and where you fall in this. James squints in the darkness, eyes adjusting, trying to identify your silhouette. “Who’s there?”
You walk into the light, feeling gold drip against your pores. Kidnapped and exhausted, you must look like a total mess. For some odd reason, your heart squeezes at the idea of him finding you unappealing to look at, but you shake that away. You are not you, you are Captain Orpheus right now. Elizabeth’s crew is looking to you behind her, and you cannot let a facade fall.
You notice how his lungs constrict when he can fully see you, and you wonder if he feels the same way. Isn’t that funny? So close after so long, and yet you’re so far away.
“It’s me,” You breathe into the darkness, “It’s just me.”
He strides forward, and you hold your ground. Why is he here? Has he come to mock you for losing? For falling so hard from your grace? Your throat closes when he’s close, and you’re met with memories of the last time you were this close to him. A flash of heat, golden light. Still, you hold your ground. You will not be made weak by this man.
“Come,” He says, half-speaking to Elizabeth but still looking to you, “We must hurry.”
“What are you doing here?” You question, holding your ground. He is not James right now. He’s Commodore Norrington.
“You saved my life tonight,” He presses something into your hands, and you didn’t notice that he’d walked in with it. Your viola, beautifully cleaned, alongside your bow. Then, he takes your hand and pivots to walk forward. “Now come. I’ve found a way for you to get back to your ship.”
Abruptly, you rip your hand from his, clutching it as if burned. He stills, but you speak. “Why should we trust you?”
His whole body stops, and you feel his heart crack a bit. James looks over his shoulder. “Please. Just this once.”
His eyes bore into your soul and you’re reminded of fallen leaves. They’re light, but so warm, like grass littered with morning dew between your toes. Beautiful emeralds ornately placed on stolen jewelry, flower stems that crinkled beneath your boots. You think green has become your favorite color, with the way those eyes look at you.
“Just this once,” You nearly choke, and you turn to Elizabeth. “What are you waiting for? Found my secret trump card.”
She follows you, your group sneaking through the worn halls of the Flying Dutchman. Never have you sensed such sorrow radiating from a boat, and you shiver from the overwhelming emotion. James looks at you with concern, and you wish you couldn't read him so well. Then, you’d be able to ignore the way he’s still in love with you.
No, no he’s not. He can’t be. You promised yourself one night, and that was it. One moment of weakness, and that night is over. You cannot allow yourself to be made weak by this man.
Eventually he leads you to the back of the ship, an escape route in the form of ropes running from the Dutchman to Sao Feng’s ship. The crew begins taking it, while James speaks to you and Elizabeth.
“Do not go to Shipwreck Cove,” He begins, eyes darting around to keep a lookout. “Beckett knows the meeting of the Brethren, I fear there is a traitor among them.”
Elizabeth and James speak, just for a moment, something that you know to be private. You feel something burn behind your eyes, hating how final this all seems to feel. Something in Elizabeth’s eyes rings of forgiveness towards him, and she climbs onto the rope. James finally seems to turn to you.
“I thought you’d be gone by tomorrow.” You cannot come up with a witty remark at this moment. “You look nice, clean shaven.”
“Do I?” He smiles at you, brushing the hair from your face.
“Yeah,” You croak, “You do.”
“You must go fast, I’m afraid I cannot stall for long.” James says.
“You have to come with us,” You squeeze his hand, “If you don’t…you know what they’ll do to you.”
“I’m more like you than you think,” He begins, tilting your head to meet him. God, when was the last time you cried? You cannot hold it back anymore, skin burning at the touch. “I can’t.”
“Why do I have to say goodbye twice?” You allow a single tear to strike down your face. He wipes it away.
“Of all the fates I’ve been doomed to, Captain Orpheus,” He chuckles, a heartbreak in his voice. “You were the best by far.”
You caress his cheek like you once did, and feel him still lean into your touch. Softly, you whisper a name that no one has called you in a long time. Before you were a pirate, before you were a servant of the gods, you were nothing. Nothing but that small, measly name. He whispers it back, and you wonder if this is what falling feels like.
When you kiss him, it’s fiercer than before. Passionate, fiery to the tongue. You dip back and feel him hum sweetly into it, like an old lover. You want to roll your eyes into the back of your head and stay in this kiss for the rest of your life. To taste his tongue, to smell his scent of the ocean.
But then he breaks away, and you climb onto the rope escape. “I won’t forget you, James Norrington.”
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” A smile breaks out across his face, through his wet eyes. You smile back, and you actually mean it.
A sound echoes from behind you both, and he turns. You see the cogs turn in his head, the idea coming in an instant. He draws his sword, and you reach out to stop him. To try and stop what you know comes next. You can’t let the story go this way, you mustn't. He’s supposed to follow you, follow you out of the darkness and into the sun.
But James slices through the rope, throwing the entire line of escapees into the ocean, where the crew of the Dutchman cannot find you. You scream as you plummet into the ocean, ears ringing. Icy cold water hits your senses, and you struggle if only for a moment. The senses overtake you.
Then, you swim to the surface. Breaking free, you feel your lungs sigh in relief at oxygen. Your head whips around to find him, but you are just too late.
You watch James Norrington, the only love you’ve ever had, be stabbed through the heart by a Dutchman pirate. You watch the life bleed from him as he collapses, helpless against the floor. You watch him die.
It’s not any ship of yours that your heart breaks. Instead, it’s in the salty ocean that your tears mix with, as you scream a name that will not scream back.
+ 1 tell me i am good enough
“How did you know him?” Elizabeth asks across from you, and you don’t look up.
The two of you sit at Sao Feng’s former quarters, a map sprawled between you both. You’ll both be at the Brethren’s Court in a few hours if you’re fast. He’d warned against it, you know that much, but you both cannot go anywhere else. It’s where you’re needed.
“Know who?” You give a cheeky smile. “Sao Feng? I never knew him well. He knew me, of course, but-”
“James.” The name cuts deeper than you think it will. “When did you know him?”
“Well, when you were off trying to find the Heart,” You twiddle a knife between your fingers, still avoiding eye contact. When did it get this hard? “I’d strike conversation once in a blue moon. Charming fellow. It’s a shame, really.”
“That’s a piss poor lie,” She says, and you hate to admit that she’s right.
“What horrible language from a proper lady,” That gets a snort out of her, and you look up. Elizabeth covers her mouth when she laughs, you notice. What a charming woman. You understand Will Turner, only just a bit.
When the laughter dies, she looks to you again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s just…”
“You cared for him too.” You finish her statement, and she nods. She also notices your use of the word ‘too.’
“In a different way, I think,” Elizabeth taps her fingers against the map. “He’d want you to fight.”
“I know,” You say back, “I didn’t think…I don’t take these things seriously.”
“I can tell.” She smiles at you.
“No, it’s not that, I-” You cut yourself off with a huff. “I’m not…he was better at planning, at standing up. I’m not good at that.”
She stops you by putting her hand on your shoulder and squeezing, as tight as she can. “He’d want you to try. For him.”
And you know she’s right. That he was brave, even in his last moments, and chose to fight for what he believed in. That he wanted to do what was right at the end, even if it wasn’t what was easy. You’ve always done what was easy. You don’t know where to start.
But you must.
“I will.” You try to smile.
“Good,” She nods to herself, and then to you. “He…cared for you as well. More than anyone I know.”
You bark out a laugh. “Oh, sure.”
“I’m serious!” She says, “Knew him for most of my life, he even fancied me for a bit. But never, not once, had I ever seen him look at someone like that.”
You allow yourself a moment of weakness. “Like what?”
“Like you were his everything.”
A gust of wind blows the wind chime held by the window. Both of you turn to it automatically, on the defense, but relax when it’s nothing. You look at Elizabeth, and wonder if she understands you even a bit. You remember pulling her back from her father’s soul, drifting to the afterlife. Maybe, just a bit, you wish to cry in her arms and weave your world for her.
Instead, you hold back tears. You hold back all the grief that’s being kept at bay. You bury it beneath every layer of skin you have, and lead her outside.
Neither of you wonder why the wind was blowing in a closed room.
The next thing you know, you’re standing at the Brethren Court, alongside Elizabeth. You walk on your own two feet, shaky and straight, and choking on your own bile. You cannot grieve yet. Not here, not now. Not with the entire Court staring into your soul.
Elizabeth introduces her place amongst the court, and everyone seems to turn to you. You grip your viola with one hand, digging a sword into the globe. “Captain Orpheus.” You notice the way they stare at you, ominous. You don’t blame them. On pure power alone, you are the strongest by far.
But you allow yourself to lurk. You watch each and every one of them, and read them for all they are worth. Learn why they’re here, where their loyalties lie. It’s what you’re good at. You try to be brave. You try not to swim in the murky thoughts crashing in your brain.
A fight breaks out, because of course it does. Because the idea of a bunch of pirates working together was near impossible in the first place. You don’t flinch when someone is thrown against the table, nor when one of Frenchman's sailors starts yelling at you. In your head, you are so much farther away. Long past them, in a place where you can breathe.
Eventually, you get annoyed. This is when something strange happens.
“Oi,” You try to speak, but no one’s listening. You summon more of your strength, and yell quite a bit louder. “OI!”
Your voice carries something unearthly, a bit of magic to its quality. Everyone goes silent, basking in the sheer wonder of it. Very few have been in the presence of it, and you can tell that near none of these people have. Something in the air changes, and they all look to you for guidance. Typically, you would give some charisma and let Barbossa finish his grandiose speech.
But you don’t. Because you didn’t summon any magic for that. Your viola is at your hip, untouched. You stand there, confused where that came from, before Barbossa jumps in to talk.
You press your fingers to your throat, unsure of where that came from. It couldn’t have been you. You’d know if it was. This is new, explosive, dangerous. You bury it down where all those unsavory feelings are resting.
You sniffle, and you catch the faintest whiff of the sea. Bright and familiar against your nostrils. It’s gone in a moment.
Elizabeth is elected, and you return to the Black Pearl. You return and try to not to feel like everyone is staring at you.
Tia Dalma finds you. You’d always been kind to her, earning the title of the only pirate she seemed to like. She finds you leaning against the rails, staring out into the ocean blue and trying to swallow it whole. When she offers you a biscuit, you shake your head, instead taking a swig of your flask. You don’t even have the energy to eat.
“How’d you do it?” You ask her, and she tilts her head.
“I do many things.” She raises her head to the sky, feeling the ocean breeze.
“Live through it all,” You press the flask against your lips, trying to feel something. “Wake up every morning with magic, and it can’t save what matters most.”
“The sea is a fickle thing,” Tia Dalma says, “So is the heart.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be here to fix things?” You want to scream. “I chose this life because I thought I could help people. Because I thought my life would finally be interesting. Instead, the one good thing I did this entire voyage…”
“Someone’s following you,” She interrupts, and your head shoots to her.
“Who?” You’re on edge, checking the deck for anyone suspicious.
“If I were to guess, a lost soul,” Tia Dalma closes her eyes, and you wonder if you’ll ever be quite as magic as she is. “Someone who cannot pass. Someone who will not pass.”
“What do you mean?” You eye her carefully. Even to you, Tia Dalma is as fickle as the parting sea.
“Souls take time to pass,” She begins, “Some are stronger than others. Some cling to this world, some burn out. One of them is attached to your very essence.” She sniffs the air. “Young, brutish. Defending you. I think he’s waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” You choke out a laugh, “What, am I supposed to end it all now?”
“You could.” She laughs, a bit unhinged, “Or, you could show him why you were touched by the gods.”
Tia Dalma’s gone in a blink, and you are alone. But are you really? You think on her words, trying to decipher how you could even attempt what she suggests. So you close your eyes, listen to the air, and try to feel something.
There’s no response.
Of course there’s no response. He’s gone. James Norrington is lost to the sea, and now you’re all alone. You always tend to end up alone, don’t you? You stumble back to your cabin, trying to keep your legs from giving out.
You must be strong, that much is certain. So you put yourself together, take your viola from its hook, and prepare for battle. Maybe they restore Calypso to her former glory. Maybe Elizabeth makes a speech that rallies everyone together. You’re too focused on the reflection in the mirror, the boiling power beneath your skin.
You are Captain Orpheus, touched by the gods themselves. You must not lose.
The doors open at your command, without your touch. Even Elizabeth, finished rallying the troops, stares when you enter your quarters. You feel your eyes glow. This is the final hour, you suppose. It’s time for things to begin.
You feel Calypso’s power between your teeth, the former Tia Dalma whispering incantations that you do not understand. So, you walk past every single one of those pirates, and climb to the top of the mast. No one questions you. Not when the rain pours from Calypso’s power, not when you reach the top. When you set sail, you know what you must do.
It’s strange to break free from your musical block. But it has become your fight. This is a fight of pirates, yes, but it was never your fight. Until they made it so. Until James Norrington walked into your life and gave you something worth fighting for. Until someone stole him from you, and you realized just how much there is worth fighting for.
That’s when the song comes to you. For the first time in what feels like centuries, you feel it come up from inside you. It breaks free from your skin, and you hear a drum play in the distance. Isn’t it strange, all it took was to care, just a bit? Perhaps the song was built for a clarinet. You decide you’ll make it for your viola.
The ship is about to tilt into the whirlpool when the words leave your lips. “There’s a fire in my brain, and I’m burning up.”
Your voice erupts across the Caribbean, so clear and concise that the heavens must hear it. It rings out and pushes the Black Pearl forward, guiding it against the Flying Dutchman. It’s so easy to simply push it over the edge, slamming the two boats into each other. Their masts cross, and you are at the top of it all. Keeping the boats afloat, keeping the weather at bay.
The sea erupts at your words, and you wonder if this is what it means to be a Captain Orpheus. Powerful, ignited. The song flows through your veins, pumping you with adrenaline and pure magic. Words that you do not know but mean leave your tongue. You have never felt so alive in your entire life.
Something’s pushing with you. Something otherworldly and right is fighting alongside you, and you wonder if that’s Tia Dalma’s final warning to you. A soul that could not pass. A protector meant to save you. You channel your energy and knock a few Dutchman soldier’s into the abyss of the sea, trying to pick up on the wisps of energy in the air.
You push against it all, saving Jack from falling. You use all the magic in your brain, focus on every aspect of this fight, and keep pushing. Someone is here. Someone is underneath your feet, in every bated breath. Push harder against the forces of this world, against the very gods who gifted you this power. The rain beats down upon your forehead, and you try to keep yourself straight.
You hear a sword slicing from behind you, and you turn to meet a horrifying sight. In your focus, you burst of magic, you failed to notice one of Jones’ men approaching you from behind. A hammerhead shark from the looks of it, who climbed all the way up here to slay you alive. You’re caught off guard, unable to defend yourself at this angle. Bracing yourself for impact, you shut your eyes closed.
You’re instead met with the sound of swords clanging. You peak, and the air has been stolen from your lungs.
James Norrington stands in front of you, blue navy jacket soaking him to his bone, fully alive. He matches the hammerhead’s look of utter dismay with a grin, shoving him off the mast. The pirate falls to his doom at the ground. Then, he turns to you, sweat soaking his brow with rainwater.
“What?” He asks, a grin filling his face. “Did you think you were the only one who could save their love?”
Barely processing the way he called you his love, he turns his back to you on defense. “Quick, I’ll keep the defense. You keep playing, keep the Dutchman pirates off our back. Give one of them the chance to stab the heart.”
“How are you here?” You ask, and he throws his head back to laugh.
“I wouldn’t leave you,” James Norrington has the audacity to wink at you, and you hate that it wins you over immediately. “Not now, not ever.”
Then, with a yell, he stabs a Dutchman soldier in the heart, and you notice just how many of them are crawling up to the Crow’s nest. You’re what’s keeping your side alive right now, giving Jack the chance he needs. You can’t focus on James' presence, you have so much around you. So you rush, and begin once again.
“The devil’s after both of us,” Your voice carries and echoes, and you notice James give you a look of affection. You eye him back, smiling with your heart, and allow yourself to go overboard.
Your song reverberates across every ear, in every sailors’ ear, in every pirates’ heart. It grows in power, James’ presence giving you something to fight for. He’s keeping the Dutchman at bay, rain drilling into your head. The sky is dark, murky. You feel the hair stick to your skull, your clothes frozen against your skin. It feels exhilarating.
When the heart is stabbed, your music stops. Everything stops. You feel the sea burn, the clocks stop moving, the world halt. Everyone watches Davy Jones fall into the whirlpool, losing himself to his love. You watch him perish, and whisper something under your breath.
Then, you eye James. He’s still staring at the center of the whirlpool. You notice the way the Dutchmen are returning their ship, returning to their master, and how Gibbs is turning the wheel away from certain doom. You’re leaving the whirlpool.
So, while James’ is staring, you grab and pull him down, gripping tightly onto the outside of the crow’s nest. You hold him in your arms as the two of you brace yourself. Wind whips at your skin and stings you, all while you hold tightly. James is holding you as well, embracing you in his arms. The two of you are burying your faces in each other, trying to stay safe in the freezing cold. A shiver runs down your spine.
The storm breaks, and you wonder if that’s Tia Dalma’s final gift to you. The clear sky, the still ocean. Clarity.
James tilts his head up to the sky, but stops when he sees you haven’t. Even on a beautiful day, when the world is silent, you’re still burying your head in his shoulder. Burying it and crying.
Sobbing, actually, is a better word for it. All the grief, the longing that fills you is falling forward. You have never cried like this before. Your hands dig into his back, sobbing and begging him to stay. With each heave, you allow that facade to finally shatter. You are too worn, too tired from being Captain Orpheus. James scoops you in his arms and simply holds you, loving you in your weakness.
“Never leave me again,” You croak, “I can’t…You were dead .”
“I’m not leaving,” He says back, rubbing circles in your back. “You brought me back. You were so brave for me, my dear.”
You let your head rise, face bleary and puffy. “I tried. I tried and I fought for you. I couldn’t-”
“I know,” He finishes. “I know.”
When your lips meet, it’s all too messy. There’s a little too much teeth at first, and your lips are blistered and frozen. Neither of you particularly mind, too enraptured by the idea of the other. Your tears wet his cheeks, and his lips taste of salt. Salty tears and the ocean.
Finally, you struggle to your feet. You both slide down the crow’s nest, shining in the daylight. Elizabeth tackles him in a hug, crying herself. Even when Will erupts back from the ocean of which he came, he smiles at you, kindly. Your cheeks glisten with tears, an uncontrollable smile on your face. Even when you destroy Beckett’s ship, finally ending the legacy that almost destroyed yours.
Only once do you look to see if James is upset about destroying his fellow Navymen. Instead, he’s smiling.
extra. lay my curses out to rest
He finds you by the cannons.
You’re leaning against the side of the ship, allowing the rocking to lull you. Most of the rest of the crew is celebrating below deck, rum laced through their veins. You’d been tempted, you truly had, but you needed to be alone with your thoughts. Come to terms with the way your day has gone so far.
“You missed a spot,” James calls out, and you turn your head with a smile.
“Oh, shush,” You roll your eyes, “It gave me an excuse to talk to you. I didn’t think you’d look at me otherwise.”
“I couldn’t stop,” He leans out beside you, staring at the ocean. “It was rather infuriating at the time, the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, a pirate.”
You flush, caught off guard. “You think I’m beautiful?”
James laughs, pauses, and then turns to you in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”
You notice how much enjoyment he gets from leaving you flabbergasted, jaw slightly hanging open. James smiles, and you pout. He scoots closer to you.
“So, what now?” You ask.
“What do you mean?” James asks back.
“Well,” You hop onto the edge of the ship, feet dangling above the deck. “To the Navy, you’re a dead man. Literally. You can’t just come back from the dead.”
“Beckett never got the chance to give notice of my death,” James’ eyes sparkle in the moonlight, “Everyone who knew was on that ship. To the King, I’m just the pardoned Commodore.”
“Oh.” You stop, biting your lip. “Are you going to return?”
James shakes his head, “I don’t know.”
Then, he pulls something from his jacket. It’s small, made from fine paper. It must’ve been to the afterlife and back, with the way you shudder when it touches your skin. He hands it to you, and you quietly open the piece of paper.
You gasp. “How did you-?”
“It wasn’t easy,” James smiles, awfully proud of himself, “Beckett took an awful lot of convincing. But he realized that Captain Orpheus, while famously associated with pirates, had yet to align themselves with any particular side in this fight. That it would be better to have you on his side than not.”
“I was one of the reasons they lost at the end,” You choke on your own joy, eyes burning into the paper.
“I suppose he never got a chance to update it,” James shrugs mischievously, looking at you. “You said your last ship sank? I know that the East India Trading Company isn’t regulating merchant ships anymore.”
“And what? Leave pirating behind?” You can’t look away from the pardon, your name in perfect black cursive. “I can’t do that.”
“See, I thought about that.” James pushes himself off the edge, stepping in front of you. “But what do you want? Not what you can’t.”
You open your mouth, and then close it. It’s been a long time since you’ve thought about that. Before someone decided you to be Orpheus for you. You bite your lip, unsure, and he steps between your dangling legs. He cups your face.
“I think it’s time for you to get what you want, is it not?” He caresses your cheek.
“I want to stay with you,” You murmur, “I want adventure, I want the sea, I want it all. I just want you.”
“It doesn’t have to all be on the books per say,” He murmurs back, “You deserve your adventure, but you deserve me as well.”
“Do I?” You ask back, and his eyes widen.
“You deserve everything,” He states absolutely, “You deserve the entire world, and then some. You deserve all of my love.”
The air has been stolen from your lungs. You gasp, and he looks at you in confusion. Your voice is hushed, scared. “You love me?”
Surged with confidence, he kisses you, soft and tender. He’s kissing you like a Commodore, like a man of goodness would. It’s the most loving you’ve ever been touched before. James Norrington tilts your head up by the chin, hair blowing gently in the air. He looks so full, so whole.
“I wish to court you,” Is what escapes him when you break the kiss, and you raise an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?” You smirk, “Don’t you think we’re past that?”
“It’s just…” He starts, and you see him turn a shade of pink. You think of his upbringing, and wonder just how much he’s asking of you with courting. If he ever thought he’d get this far, or if he thought of what would happen next. Love poems, flowers? The thought sends electricity down your spine.
So, you decide to steal the words from him.
“Commodore James Norrington.” You attempt a somewhat posh voice, “I am nothing but a humble pirate, a dashing swashbuckler, a scallywag, and you are a grand Navyman. However, I will put every single effort into making sure you feel truly loved and adored. Yes , yes you can court me, dumbass.”
James laughs, a full-belly, and turns back to you. “Dumbass, huh?”
“Only for you,” You giggle, “Idiot deck swabber.”
“Filthy pirate,” He kisses you, and you feel loved.