Title: A Finer, Fairer Wind

Author: ReflectiveMuse

Rating: PG for now, rating will go up.

Summary: Just as James Norrington becomes resigned to a loveless future, unexpected reunions make a different outcome possible.

Disclaimer: The OCs are mine, all others belong to Disney, and no profit whatsoever will be made from this.

A/N: Noncompliant to the latter two films—and allowing him to receive better treatment than he got in those movies—this one's my take on the premise of James Norrington moving beyond Elizabeth Swann and finding his match in someone who returns his love unconditionally. That aside, given that I find the often seen implication that no woman can compare to Elizabeth unrealistic, as I view any character disproportionately praised (and I dislike her), the OFC in question is shown with striking attributes of her own instead of being plain, less spirited and so on. Even so, she's not intended to be a Mary Sue and hopefully, she won't come across as such!

Also, Norrington concedes none of his dignity, to the point of only showing Elizabeth as much civility as decorum requires—and later on, as much as her behavior warrants—since to me, it's implausible that even a gentleman would go on indulgently catering to a woman who used and publicly humiliated him. As a result, by canon standards, he's likely a bit out of character. All that being said, on with the story, and feedback is welcome and appreciated. :)

Prologue

Is this where your heart truly lies, then?

It is.

Two soft words, no more, yet they had inflicted a wound which pained James Norrington like no other he had ever received. That injury had driven him to seek solace in his work, made him cast himself headlong into the necessities of handling the aftermath of the battle at Isla de Muerta, as draining as the undertaking had proven to be. Once he'd resolved all of the relevant matters and somehow managed to compose reports sufficient to appease the Admiralty, the demands on him had lessened somewhat. Though the end of that trial that was a relief, in a way—the threat of severe court martial had loomed much too closely, even with the assistance of the Governor and a few of his most influential associates—its passing had taken his means of escape with it. None of the other duties of his position could even begin to distract him. My position, he thought bitterly, his mouth tightening, his green eyes darkening with renewed hurt and humiliation. Rising to his feet, James made his way over to the glass doors separating his office from the balcony and stared out over the township under his sworn protection. For the longest time he'd been certain that his accomplishments and his elevated position would aid him in achieving marriage to a fine woman, would enhance his worthiness of her hand. Their match would have been built on a deep fondness, blossomed into love and not long after that would have come their family. However, it now seemed that such was not within his reach after all.

"Was it ever?" he murmured, his usually dulcet baritone a subdued, rough whisper. Even as the last quiet syllables trailed off, the self-doubt in the back of his mind that never faded entirely supplied the answer. He knew, for Elizabeth's rejection had confirmed the cruel truth of his circumstances just as much as the pitying, yet unrepentant look in her dark hazel eyes. He was more than fit, it seemed, to achieve high prestige and handle the duties and hazards that would overwhelm a lesser man. He could be looked up to, respected from afar and by some idolized, but he could not, it seemed, attain the one thing which he craved with his entire being: genuine, unconditional love. He longed to share love and trust with someone who would see James, the man, not the brocade clad, unapproachable figure he appeared to be. He longed to be with someone who would desire and accept him for himself instead of wanting only what he could provide, so deeply that he ached to the very core of his being. As he continued to gaze out at Port Royal, a faint but unmistakable stinging began at the backs of his eyes. Before it had a chance to build to its inevitable result, he quickly crushed his sorrow down, disgusted with himself for slipping into self-pity. The emotion ill became anyone, least of all a man of his stature. Inwardly admonishing himself for the lapse, he picked up his tricorn and set it atop his wigged head, squaring his broad shoulders and departing his office on a steadying breath. With the mask of the Iron Commodore firmly in place, he strode outside. It was time to resume his responsibilities and face the rest of his life.