On the way to World's End
Wrote a longish Barbossa/Elizabeth drabble for robes_of_earth as per her request in the potc_love holiday drabble exchange. Her requested pairs: Barbossa/anyone (but especially Elizabeth), Davy/Elizabeth would be nice, Jack/Pearl; two things she'd like to see: angst and/or smut, fluff (not too tender); two things she absolutely doesn't want to see: non-con/rape, graphic sex or animal cruelty [ewww]
~ Alone ~
“Do you think we’ll succeed?” Elizabeth did not look at Will, but kept her eyes on the grey swells, and her hands on the rail. She felt Will’s eyes on her, however.
After a moment, he spoke, his voice clipped. “We’ll find him. Not a doubt of that.”
He turned away, leaving her side to go below, without another word. She felt cold, but couldn’t help being relieved.
*
Barbossa came up beside her, presently.
“Well, missy.”
She glanced up. “Mr. Barbossa.”
The scraggly head tilted and the mouth twitched. “It’s ‘captain’, Miss Swann.”
She shivered within, still unused to him addressing her as ‘Swann’. He had not known her true identity before his… death. The name had an ill sound, coming from those lips. She nodded, briefly. “’Captain’, then. For a while.”
He gave a small snort. ‘Ye think Jack’ll be back in command soon as we find ‘im.”
Misliking the jeering tone, she stared him down. “I know he will.”
Barbossa grinned - a rather horrible sight. “There, now. Even the governor’s daughter isn’t proof against Jack Sparrow’s wiles.”
Hot color crept up her neck. She turned her face to the sea.
Barbossa took a step closer and casually placed his hand on the rail close beside hers. “Jack’s not like to forgive so easily as that, Miss Swann. Best consider all your options.”
She was pleased that her white-knuckled grip on the rail was the only sign of her very considerable discomfiture. Oh, Will. But that was no use. “You’re mad,” she snapped.
“Mad?” She could hear the oily smile. “Maybe. Quick, though, too. With all it implies.”
He moved his hand to pat hers, proprietary, condescending, and she betrayed herself, breath catching as she twisted to look at him in anger, in horror.
He was smiling, and his eyes slid down to linger where the first tie of her shirt had come loose. “Options, Miss Swann.”
Another pat, and then he turned away.
The grey swells rose beneath the ship, and the cool wind gusted. Elizabeth tied her shirt again, with trembling hands.
~.~
~ Alone ~
“Do you think we’ll succeed?” Elizabeth did not look at Will, but kept her eyes on the grey swells, and her hands on the rail. She felt Will’s eyes on her, however.
After a moment, he spoke, his voice clipped. “We’ll find him. Not a doubt of that.”
He turned away, leaving her side to go below, without another word. She felt cold, but couldn’t help being relieved.
*
Barbossa came up beside her, presently.
“Well, missy.”
She glanced up. “Mr. Barbossa.”
The scraggly head tilted and the mouth twitched. “It’s ‘captain’, Miss Swann.”
She shivered within, still unused to him addressing her as ‘Swann’. He had not known her true identity before his… death. The name had an ill sound, coming from those lips. She nodded, briefly. “’Captain’, then. For a while.”
He gave a small snort. ‘Ye think Jack’ll be back in command soon as we find ‘im.”
Misliking the jeering tone, she stared him down. “I know he will.”
Barbossa grinned - a rather horrible sight. “There, now. Even the governor’s daughter isn’t proof against Jack Sparrow’s wiles.”
Hot color crept up her neck. She turned her face to the sea.
Barbossa took a step closer and casually placed his hand on the rail close beside hers. “Jack’s not like to forgive so easily as that, Miss Swann. Best consider all your options.”
She was pleased that her white-knuckled grip on the rail was the only sign of her very considerable discomfiture. Oh, Will. But that was no use. “You’re mad,” she snapped.
“Mad?” She could hear the oily smile. “Maybe. Quick, though, too. With all it implies.”
He moved his hand to pat hers, proprietary, condescending, and she betrayed herself, breath catching as she twisted to look at him in anger, in horror.
He was smiling, and his eyes slid down to linger where the first tie of her shirt had come loose. “Options, Miss Swann.”
Another pat, and then he turned away.
The grey swells rose beneath the ship, and the cool wind gusted. Elizabeth tied her shirt again, with trembling hands.
~.~