Post by Reens on Nov 8, 2005 19:22:00 GMT -5
Synopsis: This fiction as you may have noticed is inspired by Barbossa's blood-ritual line in the movie (Potc). Elizabeth is having strange dreams suspecting Will of odd behaviour and Will is wary of her. Meanwhile, back on the Black Pearl, something strange has happened and it is up to Jack Sparrow to warn his friends in Port Royal before its too late. We hear so much of Bootstrap Bill Turner, Will's Father, but what of Elizabeth's mother? Mary Swann? And what is Elizabeth's father hiding from her? What happened to the two principle characters in a true legendary romance in early 16th century India? How does it relate to our three main protagonists? Let the mystery unravel.
Genre: Supernatural/Mystery/Mythology
Pairing: William/Elizabeth, Jack/Pearl
Begun by Blood
by Serena
Prologue
"You best start believing in ghost stories Ms. Turner, you are in one!"
The man stepped out of the concealing shadows, the taunting moonlight creeping up his hand, transforming the flesh into rotten corpse instantly. Her eyes grew wide with realization, fright melting into her delicate features. With every step she took backwards he took another to close the distance. She knew there was no escape. The skeletel apparation reaching, reaching out, reaching out...
A lithe figure jolted up in her bed, breathlessly, urgently filling her demanding lungs with air. Sweat trickled down her forehead albeit the cool Caribbean breeze that abundantly filled the room. The crackling fireplace faintly broke the silence and darkness of the room, casting shadows that danced and swayed without accord. The eerie feel of it not lost on her.
The knowing moonlight fought to escape the sheer curtains that hung in the lavish bedroom. Lavish indeed. After all she was the governer's daughter. She eyed the shimmering ivory dress hung in all its enchantment near her dresser, a half smile accosting any feelings of fear or resentment that had crossed her, thanks to the reality of the cursed nightmare. She chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters and contentedly sunk back in the softness of her bed.
-^-
"Ba adab ba mulahizah hooshiyar," (be poised, be respectful, be attentive) the court soldier announced the princes' arrival as the carriers of his palki* set him down, as close to the gem-adorned seat as they possibly could, barring his feet a choice to touch the gound. Prince Salim gathered his delicate silken gown to settle in his gem-adorned throne. Two chamber maids quickly took their place behind him, fanning his form with large peacock-feathered fans.
“Takhliya,” (Dismiss*) he spoke anxiously, everyone including the servants and attending maids dismissed themselves with a curtsy. “What have you brought me today Sir Henry.”
“Jahaan panah,” (My lord) A man distinctively clad in breeches and plain white shirt with a khaki vest bowed before him in a greeting before coming forth with a small wooden box, “I have brought you something that might be of great interest to you.” He opened the box to bring into view a perfectly round black stone. It was about three inches in diameter and sported a smooth surface. Brilliant bouts of light emanated from the small stone as the prince touched the ball curiously.
-^-
The cool sea-scented breeze of the ocean came twirling through the window. Her humming filling the quaint kitchen warmly cheerily as she washed some dishes in the sink. It was a task she had never bothered to perform in the presence of countless mairds before she was married. Yet, she was happy, having realized her dream of being Will's wife. She'd never been happier, in fact. Sure, it wasn't as magical as she'd hoped it would be. Sure, the gentry of Port Royale had still admonished the blacksmith for marrying her. Sure, her father had given her hand in Will's unwillingly knowing the hardships that awaited his daughter in being the blacksmith's wife. But never did any of the trivialities (and to Elizabeth, that's what they were: trivial) ever deter her from having him. Only after one month of being married to Will she'd learned to not view life with rose tinted glasses so to speak. Like a good wife, she practically compromised a lot of 'necessities' like maids and people waiting on her, in respect of her husband's pride who at the moment couldn't afford as such. Her spirit, however remained un-faltered. Happiness comes with a cost and she would pay any price to be with her true love. She was not the only one making sacrifices, he too had given up on a lot to be with her. Not the least of which was his love for the sea.
She felt a sudden presence in the vacant kitchen. A tingling sensation crept up her spine, as her humming dissipated into a silent distress. She scanned the shore from her large kitchen window not a soul in sight. The sun had disappeared in the horizon for sometime now. The moon obscured by the shadows of the earth, eclipsing the celestial body completely. The stark darkness outside sent her in another bout of worry. Will wasn't due for another hour or so, being as he was the most sought after blacksmith in the whole of Caribbean and sole owner of the shop now after Mr. Brown's passing. She slowly wiped the plate dry distracting herself of the uneasy feeling. She was not one to rely on anyone for protection, to the contrary, she'd proved her feisty need for adventure more than once in her adventure a couple of years back but at that moment she wanted nothing but to be hidden in Will's strong protective arms. Something in her wanted to be rid an uncertain feeling that was slowly subsiding.
“You can't run away from me Mrs. Turner,” came a whisper.
Startled by the unfamiliarity of the voice she jumped, breaking a plate in her hands.
“Blimey,” Will cursed, “calm down dear. Its just me.” She turned to find her husband standing behind her. He clasped her cheek lovingly rubbing her temple, “Are you alright love?”
“Yes,” she withdrew a sharp breath uncertainly falling in Will's willing embrace, “ yes I am.”
“I thought I scared you,” he said, staring into her eyes finding an uncharacteristic vulnerability that he noticed he didn't much like. He kissed her passionately replacing her fears with desire. Shortly withdrawing to rely an apologetic look, “I am sorry for leaving you alone for most of the days especially on night like these.” He motioning at the dark skies. Not even the stars breaking its dark concentrations.
Sensing his guilt, she torted cheekily, “Its alright. I have ways of making you pay.” Noting the mischevious look he matched her strained smile collecting her in his arms, “Whatever would I have to do to make it up to you, my lady?”
She answered by claiming his lips, her fingers weaved in his hair as he was granted access to the crevice of her mouth. He rocked her body gently sliding his hand to the small of her back while the other kept behind her neck. Their tongues wrestled for dominance as he surreptitiously took a few steps backwards to reach the table that the couple used for having casual dinners. They broke apart breathlessly, eager to taste each other again. Elizabeth's hands flew to his buttons as his countered her laces, the next moment Will had knocked off the idle sewing items strewn about the table. Ignoring a sharp pain in his index finger that had been poked by one of the needles he placed his wife on the table showering her with soft kisses on her bronzed body, worshiping each and every curve.
A cool draft came from the window blowing out the only candle that lit the kitchen. Elizabeth shivered, although she wasn't sure if it was solely from anticipation of her husbands caressing hands.
“Will,” she moaned. Her fingers traced the muscular arms, gripping his back and jerking him closer to her. He took it as a sign and entered her with stroke that sent jolts of passion. He sucked the crook of her neck eagerly, marking her with his love. There was something different about him tonight, Will was usually a gentle lover Elizabeth noted in a moment of lucidity but gave into the sensations sent to her body by his constant thrusts, each one increasing in virility and power.
AN: Here are some explanation of the Hindi/East Indian words I've used. I had to research for some of these myself and they are no longer used in the modern day so I thought I'd include the meanings of them.
Palki - A chair or sofa attached on a wooden platform with poles extending at the back and front was carried by four coolies/servants. In older times in India, it was a means to commute for people of high birth. It is said that some prince/esses had not known the feeling of bare ground on their feet.
Takhliya – Part/Dismiss. Used by people of noble birth to dismiss their servants and/or other common folk.
Okay I admit I considered it until I found out it wasn't a probable name for a maiden. For those of you not aware of the mythical reference the title, as well the opening few verses of the poem convey I thought I'd add this synopsis. William Butler Yeats’s daring sonnet describing the details of a story from Greek mythology—the rape of Leda by the god Zeus in the form of a swan—was written at the height of the poet’s career, the same year he received the Nobel Prize for literature. “Leda and the Swan” is a violent, sexually explicit poem that has all of the lyricism and complexity of Yeats’s later work, with its plain diction, rhythmic vigor, and allusions to mystical ideas about the universe, the relationship of human and divine, and the cycles of history. It can be seen as a poem about the way a single event is to be understood as part of a larger scheme; the result of the god’s assault on Leda is the birth of Helen of Troy, the subsequent destruction of early Greek civilization, and the beginning of the modern era. 
Reens, this is positively wonderful!
