Potc | Beckett/James
Title: (Per)versions of Love and Hate - Chapter 2
Pairings: many, this chapter implied Elizabeth/Beckett, James, Groves, OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1.330
Warnings for the whole series: major character deaths, murder, torture, gore
Summary: Several years after AWE Elizabeth Swann, now Eli, Pirate King, sets a honey trap but is trapped herself instead. So begins a tale of captivity, murder, and revenge.
originally posted here
It’s pouring down the day Eli will take her last steps as herself.
The sky is littered with heavy, grey clouds, cutting off the living from the heat of the life-giving sun, loosening the ground into liquid form as if doomsday was near, swallowing their sins in one gulp. The dark contours of dishevelled palm tree leaves swaying in the stormy wind are all Eli can see through the invisible bars of her window.
“You look astonishing, my darling Elizabeth.”
“Quite right, Millicent.”
“What a fine material, it accentuates her slim waist. A masterpiece, indeed.”
“So unlike those dreadful French monstrosities. Just remember Arabella Norton’s dress.”
“A disgrace to her family.”
Five grey heads nod at that, not noticing the stiffness in Eli’s back as she’s trying to bury the futile anger in the pit of her stomach. Her maid is brushing the last creases out of the rich folds of the wedding dress that squeezes the breath out of Eli more effectively than any equipment from a torture chamber ever could. It had been three years since she last wore a dress like this, since she last felt trapped in her own body and desperation drives a blush of rage to her cheeks.
She tries to blank out the mindless chatter of the old ladies acting as prison guards without knowing it and tries to cling to quickly fading hope. They would save her. Gibbs, Ragetti, Tai Huang and the others… Jack. Jack wouldn’t let her rot in a forced marriage to their enemy. To Cutler Beckett of all people.
She shudders when the thick white veil, the colour mocking her experience, is pinned over her shamefully short hair and the maid accidentally pricks into her scalp. She barely feels it but can’t stop the cry of frustrated anger and the hard slap echoes in the suddenly silent room. The old ladies watch the sobbing maid with anger, blaming her entirely for the accident and Eli feels sick to her stomach. There’s nothing she wants more than to get out
“We have imposed ourselves long enough on the bride, I fear,” a soft, quiet voice breaks the silence and a slim body stands up in one fluid motion of grace. The old harpies have almost forgotten Nora Lardner’s silent, watchful presence but the polite curve of her thin lips that isn’t quite a smile won’t let them ignore her mute insistence that they leave. She waits patiently as they walk out one by one, some barely hiding that they are feeling offended, her long, delicate hands that were beautiful once but now in her early fourties are riddled with veins on cold nights rest on the soft material of a silvery-grey dress (so unsuitable for a wedding but after three years of Nora’s widow-quirks people have stopped asking questions).
Once the room is blissfully empty to give Eli some room to breathe Nora walks to the door too but a last look back at the thin, boyish form makes her lock the door quietly and slowly cross the room to sit down by the window. She is silent for a long time, simply waiting for Eli to join her, like one would when taming a wild animal. It takes long minutes for Eli’s stiff posture to relax a bit and although she comes a few steps closer then, getting her to sit down on the window seat seems still out of reach.
Nora’s lips curve slightly into one of her tight, barely-smiles and then looks out onto a Port Royal painted grey by the heavy rain.
“My mother said to me on my wedding day I would grow to love and respect my husband no matter my initial feelings,” she says in a distant voice.
Eli can’t help but snort and then gasps at the still unusual tightness around her chest. Nora turns her head to her, the hint of a real smile on her almost staue-like face.
“She couldn’t have been more wrong, of course” she pauses shortly, waiting for Eli’s smile before she goes on. “But she said something else too: ‘Nurture your husband’s strengths to make him the ruler of the world but exploit his weaknesses to make him a servant in his own home. That way, the whole world will be yours.”
Eli watches her with narrowed eyes for a long moment. She can’t quite trust this graceful, seemingly cold creature just yet but the pull of maybe finding the first truthful person in this dishonest world is too strong. She sits down cautiously next to Nora but can’t bring herself to look in the woman’s eyes.
“You have no idea what he’s done.”
The dark clouds seem to take the shape of faces, friends and family she lost to a murderer, and her voice breaks ever so slightly when she speaks.
“He’s a monster.”
The sudden warmth as Nora clasps her hands takes Eli by surprise and she almost can’t defeat the urge to pull away.
“He’s just a man, Eli. Not worse than all the rest of them.”
There’s a hard edge to Nora’s voice, her eyes have a mesmerising intensity, and she squeezes Eli’s hands harder. “And we are not afraid of men.”
It’s a short, determined knock that breaks the spell of the moment and Eli already misses the comforting touch when Nora pulls her hand away and stands up to open the door. Standing in the doorway, James is the epitome of the perfect Navy officer in his new uniform and the hard mask he prefers to wear these days to hide his thoughts.
Eli steels her heart for what’s to come.
“Admiral,” she utters the title with so much sweetness it makes her teeth ache but it brings her the satisfaction to see James’ mask crumble as a small disgusted curl distorts the straight line of his lips. Seeing him close to nausea at what he’s become at her cost feels like the first sip of poisonous revenge to Eli and she savours the taste with relish. Whether Nora can sense the animosity and guilt hanging above their heads she can’t tell, the woman’s expression is perfectly expressionless, void of the spark of wit Eli just saw earlier, and it’s for the first time she truly understands what it means to be the perfect woman in this godforsaken circus of lies
She plasters a smile to her face and takes James’ offered arm with all the grace of a fine lady. His body feels tense against her side but she holds onto him firmly as he leads her down the aisle (her last wish, a testimony to cruelty to the one who sold her), past row after row of disapproving, jealous, or pitying faces. Some she still remembers from her adolescence, others blur into a frightening mass she tries to blend out. There’s only one face meeting her with sad sympathy and she finds herself clinging to the look of shame in Teddy Groves’ eyes. He stands alone next to Greitzer and other high ranking EITC officials, his young wife was banned from the ceremony in an act of demonstrating rigid moral codes no one believes in to begin with. If this wasn’t about to become her future Eli would laugh at the irony that a pirate’s whore daughter is seen as such a threat to good taste when the bride herself was arrested for piracy from the bed of the man who is now giving her away to her own father’s murderer.
But she understands.
As a coldly murdered fallen aristocrat she could become a martyr to Beckett’s tyranny, this way she’ll be an asset, a living statue to reform, the symbol of the good Beckett has done to the world. The thought makes her clench her teeth and she’s dangerously tempted to punch Beckett in the face, whatever the consequences.
But for once she’s patient.
In Jack she trusts. Her own private God.
She will be saved.
Pairings: many, this chapter implied Elizabeth/Beckett, James, Groves, OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1.330
Warnings for the whole series: major character deaths, murder, torture, gore
Summary: Several years after AWE Elizabeth Swann, now Eli, Pirate King, sets a honey trap but is trapped herself instead. So begins a tale of captivity, murder, and revenge.
originally posted here
It’s pouring down the day Eli will take her last steps as herself.
The sky is littered with heavy, grey clouds, cutting off the living from the heat of the life-giving sun, loosening the ground into liquid form as if doomsday was near, swallowing their sins in one gulp. The dark contours of dishevelled palm tree leaves swaying in the stormy wind are all Eli can see through the invisible bars of her window.
“You look astonishing, my darling Elizabeth.”
“Quite right, Millicent.”
“What a fine material, it accentuates her slim waist. A masterpiece, indeed.”
“So unlike those dreadful French monstrosities. Just remember Arabella Norton’s dress.”
“A disgrace to her family.”
Five grey heads nod at that, not noticing the stiffness in Eli’s back as she’s trying to bury the futile anger in the pit of her stomach. Her maid is brushing the last creases out of the rich folds of the wedding dress that squeezes the breath out of Eli more effectively than any equipment from a torture chamber ever could. It had been three years since she last wore a dress like this, since she last felt trapped in her own body and desperation drives a blush of rage to her cheeks.
She tries to blank out the mindless chatter of the old ladies acting as prison guards without knowing it and tries to cling to quickly fading hope. They would save her. Gibbs, Ragetti, Tai Huang and the others… Jack. Jack wouldn’t let her rot in a forced marriage to their enemy. To Cutler Beckett of all people.
She shudders when the thick white veil, the colour mocking her experience, is pinned over her shamefully short hair and the maid accidentally pricks into her scalp. She barely feels it but can’t stop the cry of frustrated anger and the hard slap echoes in the suddenly silent room. The old ladies watch the sobbing maid with anger, blaming her entirely for the accident and Eli feels sick to her stomach. There’s nothing she wants more than to get out
“We have imposed ourselves long enough on the bride, I fear,” a soft, quiet voice breaks the silence and a slim body stands up in one fluid motion of grace. The old harpies have almost forgotten Nora Lardner’s silent, watchful presence but the polite curve of her thin lips that isn’t quite a smile won’t let them ignore her mute insistence that they leave. She waits patiently as they walk out one by one, some barely hiding that they are feeling offended, her long, delicate hands that were beautiful once but now in her early fourties are riddled with veins on cold nights rest on the soft material of a silvery-grey dress (so unsuitable for a wedding but after three years of Nora’s widow-quirks people have stopped asking questions).
Once the room is blissfully empty to give Eli some room to breathe Nora walks to the door too but a last look back at the thin, boyish form makes her lock the door quietly and slowly cross the room to sit down by the window. She is silent for a long time, simply waiting for Eli to join her, like one would when taming a wild animal. It takes long minutes for Eli’s stiff posture to relax a bit and although she comes a few steps closer then, getting her to sit down on the window seat seems still out of reach.
Nora’s lips curve slightly into one of her tight, barely-smiles and then looks out onto a Port Royal painted grey by the heavy rain.
“My mother said to me on my wedding day I would grow to love and respect my husband no matter my initial feelings,” she says in a distant voice.
Eli can’t help but snort and then gasps at the still unusual tightness around her chest. Nora turns her head to her, the hint of a real smile on her almost staue-like face.
“She couldn’t have been more wrong, of course” she pauses shortly, waiting for Eli’s smile before she goes on. “But she said something else too: ‘Nurture your husband’s strengths to make him the ruler of the world but exploit his weaknesses to make him a servant in his own home. That way, the whole world will be yours.”
Eli watches her with narrowed eyes for a long moment. She can’t quite trust this graceful, seemingly cold creature just yet but the pull of maybe finding the first truthful person in this dishonest world is too strong. She sits down cautiously next to Nora but can’t bring herself to look in the woman’s eyes.
“You have no idea what he’s done.”
The dark clouds seem to take the shape of faces, friends and family she lost to a murderer, and her voice breaks ever so slightly when she speaks.
“He’s a monster.”
The sudden warmth as Nora clasps her hands takes Eli by surprise and she almost can’t defeat the urge to pull away.
“He’s just a man, Eli. Not worse than all the rest of them.”
There’s a hard edge to Nora’s voice, her eyes have a mesmerising intensity, and she squeezes Eli’s hands harder. “And we are not afraid of men.”
It’s a short, determined knock that breaks the spell of the moment and Eli already misses the comforting touch when Nora pulls her hand away and stands up to open the door. Standing in the doorway, James is the epitome of the perfect Navy officer in his new uniform and the hard mask he prefers to wear these days to hide his thoughts.
Eli steels her heart for what’s to come.
“Admiral,” she utters the title with so much sweetness it makes her teeth ache but it brings her the satisfaction to see James’ mask crumble as a small disgusted curl distorts the straight line of his lips. Seeing him close to nausea at what he’s become at her cost feels like the first sip of poisonous revenge to Eli and she savours the taste with relish. Whether Nora can sense the animosity and guilt hanging above their heads she can’t tell, the woman’s expression is perfectly expressionless, void of the spark of wit Eli just saw earlier, and it’s for the first time she truly understands what it means to be the perfect woman in this godforsaken circus of lies
She plasters a smile to her face and takes James’ offered arm with all the grace of a fine lady. His body feels tense against her side but she holds onto him firmly as he leads her down the aisle (her last wish, a testimony to cruelty to the one who sold her), past row after row of disapproving, jealous, or pitying faces. Some she still remembers from her adolescence, others blur into a frightening mass she tries to blend out. There’s only one face meeting her with sad sympathy and she finds herself clinging to the look of shame in Teddy Groves’ eyes. He stands alone next to Greitzer and other high ranking EITC officials, his young wife was banned from the ceremony in an act of demonstrating rigid moral codes no one believes in to begin with. If this wasn’t about to become her future Eli would laugh at the irony that a pirate’s whore daughter is seen as such a threat to good taste when the bride herself was arrested for piracy from the bed of the man who is now giving her away to her own father’s murderer.
But she understands.
As a coldly murdered fallen aristocrat she could become a martyr to Beckett’s tyranny, this way she’ll be an asset, a living statue to reform, the symbol of the good Beckett has done to the world. The thought makes her clench her teeth and she’s dangerously tempted to punch Beckett in the face, whatever the consequences.
But for once she’s patient.
In Jack she trusts. Her own private God.
She will be saved.