A/N: This is in answer to the Pieces of Eight challenge on the Black Pearl Forum. Thanks to Freedom of the Seas for beta reading this piece. There are eight other stories in this challenge. Links to them can be found here:
www dot fanfiction dot net/topic/67105/19502591/3/PotC-Fanfiction-Story-Recommendations#80473192
This is also a response to a challenge from Stutley Constable for me to abandon the habits of a lifetime and respond without resorting to rhyme.
Eduardo Villanueva: broken bottle neck and cork.
POV of an ancestor of Eduardo; Felipe Villanueva.
Broken Bottle
Two dancing brown eyes under a broad brimmed hat; she had caught his attention earlier that day, setting up a stall away from the other sellers. Twice he had headed in her direction, and twice he had turned back; uncertain. As soon as he saw that the market was drawing to a close, and the bustling crowds were drifting away, he tried again. He approached as she was scooping up her remaining goods into a battered wicker basket. Three items were then carefully placed on display; an embroidered purse, a corked glass bottle, and a wooden bowl. Coin in hand, he picked up the bottle. She smiled.
~0~
The bottle itself was unremarkable, and not even new: thick brown glass, with an irregular chipped lip. The cork was fresh, and the contents, just visible through the narrow neck swirled as he rotated his purchase, examining the unfamiliar label. Brandy; it brandy? He had yet to find out.
He headed for home through the narrow streets of the old town, letting the familiar sights and sounds wash over him; a little bemused at his impulsive act. There was more than enough fine wine and brandy at home, but spending time at the market had merely been one more way of filling a long empty day. It was one more way of putting off decisions about his future, and one more way of avoiding his fretful mother and disappointed father. He thought of the wine bottles emptied over the course of yet, another, meandering lunch with his friends.
They were to blame, of course.
~0~
He reached home as the light was fading, pausing for a moment to gaze at the harbour below him, and the bay beyond. He walked through the imposing archway to the family house; bracing himself for his mother's tired entreaties, his father's disapproving words and the inane details of his younger sister's day. The evening meal proceeded as expected: clipped and caustic comments about his friends, habits and activities were met with resentful and non-committal replies.
He was not his father, and never would be.
~0~
After the meal, when servants had cleared the dishes and the womenfolk had retired to other rooms; he usually disappeared to his own chamber. That night, on impulse, and against his better judgment, he sat down with his father, and set down two glasses on the table. Without a word, he uncorked the bottle he had brought back from the market and carefully poured two measures. The tawny gold liquid caught the light as it fell; an echo of two dancing brown eyes. His father lifted an eyebrow, scowled, then sipped from his glass...
~0~
His father talked. Usually his words were familiar ones which fell on disinterested ears: responsibility, respect, perseverance, family honour, and conformity. That night, it was different; the younger man sat transfixed as he listened to tales of his father's youth; adventures in far-off countries; the wide, wild ocean; limitless freedom and endless horizons; his tongue loosened and his speech passionate and eloquent. For a few hours, as drink after drink was consumed; his upright, predictable, stolid father disappeared. In his place was a reckless, fearless, curious free spirit.
~0~
As he listened to his father; he could picture a rebellious young man; bowed down by a grueling schedule of study, and his own parents' unwavering expectations of his future within the family business. A chance detour down to the harbour after a particularly difficult week and the coincidental arrival of a fleet of proud, full-masted ships, fresh from the South American colonies, had provided an escape route. Three years on board a merchant ship, trading in precious metals, had followed. There were stories of bloody encounters with pirates along the trade routes; days and nights battling sea storms; and the thrill of experiencing the sights and sounds of foreign lands and the people within them.
~0~
Family bereavement, and a stronger sense of duty than he thought he possessed, had eventually called him home.
~0~
At the end of the evening, at the end of his spell-binding tales; his father shook himself and blinked, as though roused from a daydream. He bid a curt "good night" and left the room quickly, as though caught in a foolish act. His son picked up the bottle, weighed it carefully in his hands, and peered at the contents. The level of liquid had not fallen by a fraction of an inch.
~0~
Cradling the bottle, he made his way slowly up the flight of steps to his bed chamber. He gazed around at the fine fabrics, and expensive furniture; items he had not earned and did not deserve. He went across to the large window, presenting a sweeping view of the bay. Lights flickered up from the docks and reflected in the ripples of the ebbing tide.
~0~
The fleet was in.
~0~
Before dawn broke, Felipe Villanueva, son of respected lawyer, Ferdinand Villanueva, wrote a careful note of regret and farewell to his mother and sister and a note of thanks to his father. He picked up a bundle of belongings, the brown bottle safely stored within, and headed for the sea, in search of endless horizons…
~0~0~
The pirate captain was startled out of his daydream by a sharp rap on his cabin door. He was required on deck. He stood up, straightening his coat, his hand instinctively slid into its pocket, tracing the contours of the jagged edged brown bottle neck within; a thin cord still firmly linking bottle and cork.
The brown bottle had remained his most treasured possession. The amber contents had never failed to loosen tongues, and relax defenses; revealing hidden secrets and strategies, and had thus paved the way for a rapid rise in status and fortune. No longer guardian of the Spanish vessels which braved the trade routes; Captain Philip Villenueva's loyalty now lay with the pirate hordes who had brought danger to each voyage; as Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea.
Sadly, the bottle had been broken, several years earlier, during a particularly savage storm. Villenueva's advantage over his enemies had drained away, just as the amber liquid had drained away, but he had instinctively kept a fragment of the bottle as a good luck charm, and was never without it. The memory of the brown eyes, too, stayed with him.
~0~
He hadn't expected the bottle neck and cork to become anything more than a private talisman, until the convening of the first Brethren Court of the Pirate Lords. When an item was demanded of him, as a token of his position and power, no other object was within his grasp. The ancient ritual to bind the sea goddess which followed enthralled him at first; then, for one brief second, his eyes had locked with those of the goddess. His mind had been sent reeling back to the market stall he had been drawn to so many years before.
~0~
He was relieved when the ritual was complete.
~0~
Following that day, and the return of his talisman, he found that, once again, he was able to see and hear what lay beneath the smooth words and easy promises of his friends and enemies. No pouring of liquor was required; merely by touching the relic of the bottle, jagged edges worn smooth with time, he was able to distinguish truth from lies and deception from loyalty, in those who sought his company.
~0~
He prospered once more; confounding his enemies.
~0~
One day, he took time to study the item, his constant companion, more closely. The glass was dusty, dirty and chipped, the cord, thin and fraying but still secure. On impulse, he polished the neck of the bottle with his coat sleeve. He stared at the mirror-like surface; two downcast brown eyes were reflected back.
~0~
He never attempted to polish it again.
~0~
The End.
AN 2: This is one of nine stories in the Pieces of Eight Garden Party Challenge on the Black Pearl Forum. The rest of the stories can be found here:
www dot fanfiction dot net/topic/67105/19502591/3/PotC-Fanfiction-Story-Recommendations#80473192