Christmas Fic! (Belated)
Title: A Long Yuletide Eve
Author: commodore_lydia
Word Count: 746
Rating: PG
Characters: James Norrington, Elizabeth Swann, a maid
Pairings: Norribeth (The makings of it, at least)
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, but I love them more than he does!
Summary: Elizabeth Swann, aged 16 and recently "come out" has a night to remember at her father's Christmas Ball - featuring Inebriated!Elizabeth, Flustered!James and some awkwardly placed mistletoe
Warnings: Drinking
Back in Port Royal’s days of glory, whilst Weatherby Swann was still the good Governor and Admiral Battersea was in charge of the entire Royal Navy in the Caribbean, it was a tradition for the Governor to hold a grand Christmas Ball to which all the good society of the Caribbean was invited. Such an affair, sadly, has since gone out of practice, in light of the Governor’s death, the Admiral’s removal, and the disgrace of several parties, but some of the grandmothers of the West Indies still remember those nights when gentlemen and ladies danced the night away under the tropical stars.
It was just such a night, so many years ago, almost forgotten even by those it meant everything to. To name a date, it was December 24th, 1716 …
Elizabeth Swann, aged a highly mature 16, was very, very bored, and had been all evening. It was wonderful to be universally admired and complimented, but such praise grew tiresome after the third hour of nothing but such empty words, particularly for an adventuresome young miss who desperately wanted a piratical brigand to come crashing through the windows. It was past midnight, and her consciousness had since been reduced, with the ample aid of the rum punch, to a matter of very little intelligence indeed.
Thankfully, as she wandered aimlessly the vast rooms emptying with the late hour, she realized she had not much more time to primp on display. Oh, there was no question in her mind that the purpose of this year’s ball was to show off the pretty, recently debuted Governor’s Daughter. Her father had specially ordered a gown of priceless China silks from Paris, and allowed her to wear her mother’s jewelry for the first time. Beneath the stern portrait of her father and mother which overhung the hall, many remarked how very much like her mother she had become. Many men, whilst saying this, favored her with gazes which made her very uncomfortable.
The world rocked for an instance and she straightened herself surreptitiously in a doorway, pausing until her head stopped spinning. She really had to stop drinking that punch, but she could not find anything else to speak of - but now the benefits were hers and hers alone. That is, until someone stumbled into her and she immediately became his problem.
“James - Captain Norrington!”
She might have slurred her speech a bit, but the hour was very late and she thought he could excuse her, though Elizabeth did not fancy the solicitous look her old friend favored her with.
“Miss Swann.”
He gave a passable bow, and it struck her muddled brain how well he looked in his full dress uniform.
“I beg your pardon, sir, I’m not quite well,” she smiled, a trifle theatrically for his benefit.
James’s solicitous look continued.
“You ought to sit, then; I’m afraid I am looking for your father.”
He tried to move past her, but she could not surrender the doorway without completely unbalancing herself.
“I last saw him in the drawing room, speaking to Admiral Battersea on a matter of some importance,” she said desperately, “I do not think that he would wish to be disturbed.”
Looking down in panic, feeling the punch flush her cheeks, she looked up to the mantle above and recoiled - there hung a bough of mistletoe!
He followed her gaze, and bleached noticeably.
“Tradition, James?”
Something incomprehensible was muttered under his breath; even more incomprehensible was the look in his eyes. For the first time in their acquaintance she saw him falter and stutter, unsure of what to do.
Of course, that might have been the punch, for just as he made up his mind and bent to kiss her, it made itself known in her system, and Elizabeth passed out, most unceremoniously, into the shocked Captain Norrington’s arms.
Quite obviously, the man didn’t know what to do with the inebriated Elizabeth Swann in his arms. Puzzled, and a little more than concerned, he hefted her completely, head lolling on his shoulder, and began his awkward progress through the thin assembly remaining toward the stairs. One of the maids trailed him, and took her intoxicated mistress from him as he neared her room.
“Thank you, Captain Norrington,” she curtseyed.
“Allow me.”
He carried her toward the bed, and under the watchful eye of the servant girl, kissed her forehead goodnight.
Her eyelids fluttered, warm chestnut eyes glittering recognition in the candlelight.
“Happy Christmas, Elizabeth.”