All the Beggars' Horses -- norribeth fic
Title: All the Beggars' Horses
Author: ash_night
Pairing: James/Elizabeth (Will/Elizabeth subtext)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU set during DMC, romance, dark, angst etc.
Summary: James muses on Elizabeth, they talk, tears are shed, and secrets revealed.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbeans, period. Me? I uhh... am borrowing them for the moment.
A/N: No DMC spoilers. Am still revising future sections, and pondering the final outcome of this series. And yes, those are FLASHBACKS that occur in past tense. Decided to post something not so dark. :) As always, feedback is muchly looooved. (All the little pretties!!)
The other fics that take place *before* this are: The Cheshire Cat, Ghosts, King of Hearts, Trio, Routine, Fire and Ice, and The Road Not Taken.
---
He tells her, "You shouldn't be here alone."
She looks hurt. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
---
He sends her to his office where she waits, and waits. She spins the globe, searches through the books on the shelves, watches the men unload the Dauntless.
She thought the waiting would end with his return, but she was wrong.
When he finally arrives, her mind surges with a flurry of questions, but before she can utter a single word, he gives her a look. "Please Elizabeth."
And they return home.
---
He bathes while she waits in the library.
She paces and paces until her head hurts. James seems like a different man after the passing of days, tired, distant -- almost cold. She doesn't understand his silence, and is tempted to rap on the bathroom door just to hear his voice.
But she doesn't.
---
The night prior, her father offered her a glass of brandy for the first time.
"I know the waiting is difficult Elizabeth, but you must endure it." He smiled kindly. "There are a number of things that may delay a ship. Do you remember that a stall in the winds extended our trip from England by two weeks?"
"Of course." She remembered watching the lake-still waters of the ocean for days. She remembered asking the officers, "But why aren't we going anywhere?"
She remembered then-Lieutenant Norrington answering, "We don't have to go anywhere, to get somewhere."
---
Elizabeth remains a mystery, an enigma bundled in ribbons, and the more he tries to unravel her, the less he understands. But the more he thinks he understands, the less he thinks he knows.
He tries to tell himself that Elizabeth is nothing like Annamaria, that she will never run away, turn pirate, kill his men and then kill him. How can his sweet Elizabeth do such things?
But try as he might, he cannot rid his mind of the image of her from years ago as she gazes out to sea, humming that damned pirate song. She hasn't changed.
He thought he could make her happy, but isn't sure anymore.
---
He first met Elizabeth when he was overseeing the loading of the ship. Somewhere between his thoughts about crates of fruit and barrels of water, a voice popped up that was distinctly not his -- "Will you teach me to swordfight?"
He glanced in the direction of that voice, only to find Governor Swann -- most decidedly not a soprano -- who said, "Elizabeth, that is most improper. Do apologize."
"I'm sorry sir." She was a short freckled girl with brown hair. "What I meant was, if it pleases you, might you teach me to swordfight sometime, sir?"
She might have looked innocent enough, were it not for that glint in her large brown eyes.
But before he could respond, Governor Swann said, "Forgive us, Lieutenant. She is quite young."
---
This is how they spent the night before the wedding.
Elizabeth endured Estella's hundred of variations on the two questions of, "Aren't you excited miss?" and "Isn't the Commodore such a fine man?"
To which, the only appropriate responses were, "Who wouldn't be excited about one's own wedding?" and "Of course James is a fine man."
She was fortunate that anxiety could be mistaken for anticipation. When Estella finally stopped fluttering about her and closed the door, Elizabeth tried very very hard to forget about Will.
And James spent his last night as a bachelor with Andrew and Theodore who endeavored to get their friend very drunk.
"Make sure you use that knife trick I told you about -- makes the women go wild --"
"-- Wild with anger, you mean. For ruining their dresses and laces," said Theodore.
James snorted. "I don't believe Elizabeth would approve."
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Of course she wouldn't approve, but she'll love it just the same. She is a woman isn't she?"
But Elizabeth was not like any other woman he had ever known.
---
When he finally arrives, for the third time, she stands and nods. "James."
Standing in the doorway, he looks at her for what seems like hours. She shifts her weight, not knowing what he expects her to do, uncomfortable beneath his gaze.
He seems weary when he finally says, "I love you."
She is caught off-guard after a day's worth of terse silences.
She manages only an unconvincing, "I love you too James." Her words sound hollow, even to her, and she looks nervously at a patch of rug.
---
"Do you actually love me Elizabeth?"
"Pardon?" She looks so very young, a girl playing dress up with her mother's clothes.
He doesn't move from the doorway. The guilt of the recent deaths reminds him of what happened earlier that year.
He lost many good men, men who left behind wives and children, men who could never return to land except in memory. He lost the lives of all those men for her love, for the promise of her love.
He feels sore and empty. "Don't say those words again until you know their meaning. They are a life sentence, a death sentence."
---
The seconds pass, and he studies the way she crinkles her brow and smoothes her skirt. Her jaw tightens, and her eyes widen with confusion. She seems to waver between saying too much and saying nothing at all.
Despite everything, he knows that she is stubborn and strong.
She straightens, taking in a deep breath. "What do you mean by that Commodore?"
The title bites deeply. "I do not believe we hold each other in the same regard."
"And what regard might that be?"
"There are no vacancies in my heart for anyone else."
---
She is shocked. Her outrage makes her pulse quicken. "Do you accuse me of being unfaithful?"
If he cannot be civil, especially after all her waiting, there is little reason for her to remain.
He does not yield, however, his position in the doorway.
"Please move."
But he doesn't.
"Who else occupies that unattainable heart of yours? Do you still long for Turner at night? Or does the sea, or dare I say it, piracy appeal to you still?"
"I will not answer you when you speak like this to me." He does not move. "Let me leave James."
---
"Only tell me why you did not leave with him, and you may go wherever you wish."
She is fire now, angry and frustrated, and although he loves her, loves her more than he wishes, he needs to know.
"I will tell you nothing," she says, trying to shove past him.
He grasps her about the waist, and her attempts at gaining leverage fails. She recoils from him, smoothes her dress and brushes away a lock of hair.
"If I tell you, will you move?"
"You have my word."
"I made a promise to my father." She paces, throwing him dark glances. "I promised that I would not run away. He's dying." Pause. "Did you know he's dying James?"
She is near tears now. No, he did not know. He takes in the gravity of her words silently. The Governor is not as young as he used to be.
She continues, "He wanted to know that I wasn't dying on some strip of godforsaken land." Her voice breaks, "I couldn't leave him. Not the way my mother did."
---
He finally moves, and she leaves, not desiring to be in his company any longer. She runs to the guest bedroom and shuts the door loudly. She locks it behind her.
Men are imbeciles.
---
He doesn't know exactly where it all went wrong, but knows that he is the one to blame. He rubs his temple and looks at the empty library.
A piece of white cloth lying on top of the Bible catches his eye. He unfolds it. There, in green letters are his embroidered initials. The stitches are so sharp and precise he finds it difficult to breathe.
---
The pang in his heart tells him to go to her.
And he does. He always does.
But there is a locked door in his way, and when he presses his ear against the wood, he can hear her staccato sobs.
---
He knocks on the door, and she buries her head beneath her pillow. She misses England, her childhood, those years when her greatest worry was finishing her lessons on time.
"Please forgive me."
If she tries hard enough, maybe she can disappear.
"Elizabeth," and in her name, she tries not to hear the panic, the fear.
Finally, she decides that she cannot hide forever and lets him in.
---
He looks exhausted, but relieved.
"I should not have questioned your word."
She nods sadly and says, "I do not give it lightly."
"Please forgive me." He looks into her eyes, and she sees green oceans there. She recognizes the desperation, could almost call it her own.
He makes a hesitant move to touch her, but aborts it awkwardly.
She remembers the second proposal. She wore his jacket, and he carefully brushed the wet strands of hair from her face, while his brown hair slipped from his wig.
She understands desperation. She reaches out to him, and he holds her as if she were driftwood for a drowning man.
"I love you James," she mumbles so softly so that he might not hear it.
---
He shows her the handkerchief.
She shrugs. "I know it's not much."
"It means the world to me. Thank you, it is beautiful." He smiles, but cannot stop thinking of clipped wings.
---
They retire early. She watches him undress in the candlelight and sees the blood-stained gauze about his waist.
"James."
His voice is tight. "It is nothing. A mere surface wound."
---
When he finally lays next to her, she tells him, "We'll have a matching scar then." She shows him her right hand.
A fleeting smile. "I know."
---
She is the one who wakes first.
He is lying too still next to her and she fears the worst. But then, he snores.
She laughs with relief.
---
Author: ash_night
Pairing: James/Elizabeth (Will/Elizabeth subtext)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU set during DMC, romance, dark, angst etc.
Summary: James muses on Elizabeth, they talk, tears are shed, and secrets revealed.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbeans, period. Me? I uhh... am borrowing them for the moment.
A/N: No DMC spoilers. Am still revising future sections, and pondering the final outcome of this series. And yes, those are FLASHBACKS that occur in past tense. Decided to post something not so dark. :) As always, feedback is muchly looooved. (All the little pretties!!)
The other fics that take place *before* this are: The Cheshire Cat, Ghosts, King of Hearts, Trio, Routine, Fire and Ice, and The Road Not Taken.
---
He tells her, "You shouldn't be here alone."
She looks hurt. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
---
He sends her to his office where she waits, and waits. She spins the globe, searches through the books on the shelves, watches the men unload the Dauntless.
She thought the waiting would end with his return, but she was wrong.
When he finally arrives, her mind surges with a flurry of questions, but before she can utter a single word, he gives her a look. "Please Elizabeth."
And they return home.
---
He bathes while she waits in the library.
She paces and paces until her head hurts. James seems like a different man after the passing of days, tired, distant -- almost cold. She doesn't understand his silence, and is tempted to rap on the bathroom door just to hear his voice.
But she doesn't.
---
The night prior, her father offered her a glass of brandy for the first time.
"I know the waiting is difficult Elizabeth, but you must endure it." He smiled kindly. "There are a number of things that may delay a ship. Do you remember that a stall in the winds extended our trip from England by two weeks?"
"Of course." She remembered watching the lake-still waters of the ocean for days. She remembered asking the officers, "But why aren't we going anywhere?"
She remembered then-Lieutenant Norrington answering, "We don't have to go anywhere, to get somewhere."
---
Elizabeth remains a mystery, an enigma bundled in ribbons, and the more he tries to unravel her, the less he understands. But the more he thinks he understands, the less he thinks he knows.
He tries to tell himself that Elizabeth is nothing like Annamaria, that she will never run away, turn pirate, kill his men and then kill him. How can his sweet Elizabeth do such things?
But try as he might, he cannot rid his mind of the image of her from years ago as she gazes out to sea, humming that damned pirate song. She hasn't changed.
He thought he could make her happy, but isn't sure anymore.
---
He first met Elizabeth when he was overseeing the loading of the ship. Somewhere between his thoughts about crates of fruit and barrels of water, a voice popped up that was distinctly not his -- "Will you teach me to swordfight?"
He glanced in the direction of that voice, only to find Governor Swann -- most decidedly not a soprano -- who said, "Elizabeth, that is most improper. Do apologize."
"I'm sorry sir." She was a short freckled girl with brown hair. "What I meant was, if it pleases you, might you teach me to swordfight sometime, sir?"
She might have looked innocent enough, were it not for that glint in her large brown eyes.
But before he could respond, Governor Swann said, "Forgive us, Lieutenant. She is quite young."
---
This is how they spent the night before the wedding.
Elizabeth endured Estella's hundred of variations on the two questions of, "Aren't you excited miss?" and "Isn't the Commodore such a fine man?"
To which, the only appropriate responses were, "Who wouldn't be excited about one's own wedding?" and "Of course James is a fine man."
She was fortunate that anxiety could be mistaken for anticipation. When Estella finally stopped fluttering about her and closed the door, Elizabeth tried very very hard to forget about Will.
And James spent his last night as a bachelor with Andrew and Theodore who endeavored to get their friend very drunk.
"Make sure you use that knife trick I told you about -- makes the women go wild --"
"-- Wild with anger, you mean. For ruining their dresses and laces," said Theodore.
James snorted. "I don't believe Elizabeth would approve."
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Of course she wouldn't approve, but she'll love it just the same. She is a woman isn't she?"
But Elizabeth was not like any other woman he had ever known.
---
When he finally arrives, for the third time, she stands and nods. "James."
Standing in the doorway, he looks at her for what seems like hours. She shifts her weight, not knowing what he expects her to do, uncomfortable beneath his gaze.
He seems weary when he finally says, "I love you."
She is caught off-guard after a day's worth of terse silences.
She manages only an unconvincing, "I love you too James." Her words sound hollow, even to her, and she looks nervously at a patch of rug.
---
"Do you actually love me Elizabeth?"
"Pardon?" She looks so very young, a girl playing dress up with her mother's clothes.
He doesn't move from the doorway. The guilt of the recent deaths reminds him of what happened earlier that year.
He lost many good men, men who left behind wives and children, men who could never return to land except in memory. He lost the lives of all those men for her love, for the promise of her love.
He feels sore and empty. "Don't say those words again until you know their meaning. They are a life sentence, a death sentence."
---
The seconds pass, and he studies the way she crinkles her brow and smoothes her skirt. Her jaw tightens, and her eyes widen with confusion. She seems to waver between saying too much and saying nothing at all.
Despite everything, he knows that she is stubborn and strong.
She straightens, taking in a deep breath. "What do you mean by that Commodore?"
The title bites deeply. "I do not believe we hold each other in the same regard."
"And what regard might that be?"
"There are no vacancies in my heart for anyone else."
---
She is shocked. Her outrage makes her pulse quicken. "Do you accuse me of being unfaithful?"
If he cannot be civil, especially after all her waiting, there is little reason for her to remain.
He does not yield, however, his position in the doorway.
"Please move."
But he doesn't.
"Who else occupies that unattainable heart of yours? Do you still long for Turner at night? Or does the sea, or dare I say it, piracy appeal to you still?"
"I will not answer you when you speak like this to me." He does not move. "Let me leave James."
---
"Only tell me why you did not leave with him, and you may go wherever you wish."
She is fire now, angry and frustrated, and although he loves her, loves her more than he wishes, he needs to know.
"I will tell you nothing," she says, trying to shove past him.
He grasps her about the waist, and her attempts at gaining leverage fails. She recoils from him, smoothes her dress and brushes away a lock of hair.
"If I tell you, will you move?"
"You have my word."
"I made a promise to my father." She paces, throwing him dark glances. "I promised that I would not run away. He's dying." Pause. "Did you know he's dying James?"
She is near tears now. No, he did not know. He takes in the gravity of her words silently. The Governor is not as young as he used to be.
She continues, "He wanted to know that I wasn't dying on some strip of godforsaken land." Her voice breaks, "I couldn't leave him. Not the way my mother did."
---
He finally moves, and she leaves, not desiring to be in his company any longer. She runs to the guest bedroom and shuts the door loudly. She locks it behind her.
Men are imbeciles.
---
He doesn't know exactly where it all went wrong, but knows that he is the one to blame. He rubs his temple and looks at the empty library.
A piece of white cloth lying on top of the Bible catches his eye. He unfolds it. There, in green letters are his embroidered initials. The stitches are so sharp and precise he finds it difficult to breathe.
---
The pang in his heart tells him to go to her.
And he does. He always does.
But there is a locked door in his way, and when he presses his ear against the wood, he can hear her staccato sobs.
---
He knocks on the door, and she buries her head beneath her pillow. She misses England, her childhood, those years when her greatest worry was finishing her lessons on time.
"Please forgive me."
If she tries hard enough, maybe she can disappear.
"Elizabeth," and in her name, she tries not to hear the panic, the fear.
Finally, she decides that she cannot hide forever and lets him in.
---
He looks exhausted, but relieved.
"I should not have questioned your word."
She nods sadly and says, "I do not give it lightly."
"Please forgive me." He looks into her eyes, and she sees green oceans there. She recognizes the desperation, could almost call it her own.
He makes a hesitant move to touch her, but aborts it awkwardly.
She remembers the second proposal. She wore his jacket, and he carefully brushed the wet strands of hair from her face, while his brown hair slipped from his wig.
She understands desperation. She reaches out to him, and he holds her as if she were driftwood for a drowning man.
"I love you James," she mumbles so softly so that he might not hear it.
---
He shows her the handkerchief.
She shrugs. "I know it's not much."
"It means the world to me. Thank you, it is beautiful." He smiles, but cannot stop thinking of clipped wings.
---
They retire early. She watches him undress in the candlelight and sees the blood-stained gauze about his waist.
"James."
His voice is tight. "It is nothing. A mere surface wound."
---
When he finally lays next to her, she tells him, "We'll have a matching scar then." She shows him her right hand.
A fleeting smile. "I know."
---
She is the one who wakes first.
He is lying too still next to her and she fears the worst. But then, he snores.
She laughs with relief.
---