DragonLady
Timeline: Directly before and after PotC.
Disclaimer: I do not own Norrington and his world,
they are property of the Mouse. The title is taken
from a British Sea Power song.
Summary: Norrington's old lover reflects on Elizabeth
-- fatally.
I.
Time was when I was his only concern. Not so very long ago, he was devoted to me heart and soul and body and blood.
And then that vixen came along and stole him right out from under me. I should have seen it; she's exactly like me. So sweet, perfect, and predictable on one hand... and on the other she is wild, spirited, and so very, very bad. Manipulative, one could even say. The way she told him she wanted him, then didn't tell him about the curse until too late -- masterful. Worthy of me, who has been known to hide her intentions both good and bad, stringing men along to their deaths... or life. Life for Will Turner, and death for the good Commodore's pretty marines.
We are not dissimilar at all. Perhaps that is why she desired my prize, my shining James.
On second thought, perhaps she did not mean to steal my lover's heart away. After all, she did call him Snorrington behind his back for the first ten years of their acquaintance. Also, he was a mere tool to rescue that Turner lad. No, I do not think his attentions were anything she actively sought.
But the fact remains she did steal him. Then she used those stolen affections as leverage to save her beloved, and furthermore rejected him publicly. I do not like seeing my lover hurt, but the advantage her actions gave me was palatable. Her silly rejection of the man in favor of the boy should have stripped her of charm in his eyes. It should have sent him running back to my arms.
But it did not. He's still in love with her. I am second in his estimations, and this cannot be tolerated. If a gold ring and a blacksmith boy are not enough to remove her from his love, then I shall do the remove her permanently.
And I shall do the removing myself, as I should have done before instead of leaving it to cursed pirates to bungle.
II.
Norrington stared out the window at the blackness beyond. For the second solid day, the storm raged against Port Royale. The sea hurled itself against the rocks, the wind battered the windows. Thunder and lightning danced in the skies, their perspiration pouring upon every surface. Even a dash from one building from another was to be chilled to the bones by howling rain.
Neither pirates nor fishermen nor Navy patrols braved this tempest, only a single passenger ship that had left two and a half days ago in brilliant sunshine. Among other things, the ship contained the newly married William and Elizabeth Turner, on their way back to England for a three month holiday. The day of their wedding had been the clearest any had seen. The day of the couple's departure had been even more crystalline. It was as if the ocean herself celebrated the union.
She had, Norrington mused, apparently changed her mind. Just six hours after the Turner's ship had left Port Royale, and only a scant hour after Norrington's patrol had returned, the near-hurricane had begun.
"You need to sleep, sir," a soft voice said from the door.
"I can't sleep, Renault. Elizab- Mrs. Turner is out there. The Dauntless could be sunk by such a storm, let alone that little merchant boat," Norrington told his aide. There was silence.
"She survived pirates, James. She'll be fine."
"The pirates and the sea are very different. One craves women, the other despises them."
"I thought you said superstition was nonsense."
"So was the thought of a good pirate," Norrington said. But he did leave the window, if only to sit on the couch. Renault Gillette sat with him in silence.
After several hours, the booming of the door knocker sent the two men running downstairs. The midnight visitor was Murtogg, summoning them to the Governor's house. Elizabeth's body had been spat out upon the Fort Charles battlements. Will Turner's had not been found.
The storm stilled into an unnatural calm.
III.
There. That fixed you, didn't it?
Oh, he's weeping now; sparkling white tears from eyes the color of my depths, but those tears will dry. The wounds you and your death left will heal, and then... Dear, darling, perfect James will be mine and mine alone, as it was and should be and will be forever.