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#Governor Weatherby Swann

wanderdreamer · 5 months

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in a world of missing or neglectful fathers, and near non-existent mothers, can we all take a moment to appreciate governor weatherby swann (and yes, it is governor still, because he does not wear that wig to keep his head warm . . . even in death . . . (sorry!)). to help my point, i think it’s really interesting that the character with arguably the most amount of gumption and least amount of fear is elizabeth swann, the character who was raised by a loving and present father. and this is not taking any of the power of her characteristics and granting them all to her father, i think it’s just an incredibly interesting dynamic that necessitates some diving into. for the most part, it doesn’t appear that elizabeth’s actions are made out of rebellion against her father, but were rather taken because her father allowed her to learn and to make sense of the world around her for herself, to a great extent for the era. even when we’re first introduced to both characters, it’s in a moment where elizabeth is expressing interest in pirates and governor swann is expressing disinterest in her interest. but i don’t believe he ever forcibly stops her from learning about pirates. because we see her throughout the series spout information about stories and songs she learned in her past, many of them pertaining to piracy. instead, i think governor swann tries over and over to guide her through love. look at his proposition of james norrington’s proposal for instance. governor swann specifically states that james “fancies” elizabeth. but then he diverges his conversation and continues to speak in great length about this gift of a dress he had bought her. i’m not sure if i’m making something of nothing, but i think governor swann appreciated the concept of james and elizabeth as a match because he saw how they *could* love each other (not even going to venture into his relationship with james itself right now, because that’s an entirely different and beautiful story). if james wasn’t the man he was, or even if the proposal simply never occurred, i don’t think governor swann would have foisted elizabeth onto james, or even the next “suitable” match for that matter. his love for his daughter was unmatched and nearly unprecedented for that time and place in the manner in which it manifested, and in this case, i believe he put her ability to choose her own path above the proposed “right” thing to do. after all, he chose her happiness and safety above all else time and time again. propriety be damned. anyway i adore governor swann.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #wandering thoughts

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enbizaka-murders · 1 year

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Elizabeth Swann, demigoddess unaware

So this is an elaboration of my theorizing in a a reblog from earlier. Most of us are aware of Elizabeth Swann’s kiss of death as discussed in this post where I made an observation that the kiss caused death by flying dutchman. Some people think Elizabeth is death goddess bound in human form but Elizabeth was born to a human, had a childhood, and aged which she wouldn't do if she had been a regular goddess.

So, what is her deal then? Well in potc lore Calypso was a demigoddess born to the titan Atlas and a mortal caribbean woman. Somehow she ascended to complete godhood. How? We don't know.

My proposed theory is this. Elizabeth is a demigoddess daughter of Governor Weatherby Swann and a deity of the underworld. Which? Well one alternative is that her mother was one of the Keres, the goddesses of violent death, they were psychopomps who ferried souls of those who died in battle, and the daughters of Nyx.

My other theory, which I am more fond of, is that Elizabeth’s mother was Charon, the very first psychopomp in existence, who’s job is to ferry people over styx. You even have the seafaring and boat connection there.

”Isn't Charon supposed to be a man?" You ask, Well yes but I’ve grown to like the interpretation that Charon's skeletal form and deep voice makes it hard to really make out their true identity. So let go with this. Either way Elizabeth's mother didn't die, she just went home.

What is my evidence? Well like I said earlier we have the whole kiss of death thing with the dutchman. You can read the post for more info

Now in greek myths demigods mostly gets their divine parent's lamest power. For an underworld deity, a way of marking the doomed would perhaps be considered small.

bonus point, when Elizabeth challenges Jack, he goes in for a smooch but a that exact moment the black spot that marks him for death comes back.

Another point, Sao Feng initially assumed Elizabeth was Calypso. Why? Was it because he was attracted to her? Possibly. But one thing I noticed while checking out his charts is this.

Elizabeth's face is illustrated on them. These were made in the 1500s, potc takes place in the 1700s. Why is Elizabeth's face on something made 200 years before her birth, that shows the way to other planes of reality? Could that be the reason he assumed she was Calypso? (I personally like to think it’s Charon’s true form, Elizabeth just takes after her.)

So to conclude, Elizabeth Swann is the demigoddess daughter of a chthonic goddess (Charon probably), but unlike Calypso, she never knew and never ascended, she was raised as a human girl. Her kiss is the only divine power she inherited.

#Potc #pirates of the caribbean #elizabeth swann

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boltlightning · 2 months

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gov swann & james starring in #94 pls

94. last hope

Weatherby Swann had been governor of Port Royal for four years now, well-versed in the mood and timbre of his province, and as such there is simply no reason why this soiree should be as miserable as it is; Great Aunt Dorcas visiting from England is stern and rejective, he could admit, and far from his favorite of his relations, but an event in her honor need not reflect her manner. After exchanging a brief, despairing look with Elizabeth, Swann entertains the idea of calling the night early when the footman announces one Captain James Norrington, hastening in after his patrol. Norrington takes one look around the room, blanches, and promptly turns the whole night around: Swann watches in amazement as he introduces himself to Dorcas — pays homage to all the appropriate guests — picks up the flagging violinist’s instrument and plays a few bars of a rondo in suggestion, setting the quartet to the proper sort of music this time of the evening — handsomely bows to Elizabeth, gallantly invites her to dance — and shortly, all who are able have joined the next set. Bless his heart! After dinner, Swann finds Norrington nursing a glass of wine in a quiet solitary corner, flushed in the way all young people are after so much excitement, and silently raises a glass to him.

send me a prompt, get a drabble ✨

#or: local father figure does not understand what blushing is #thank you pal!!!!!!!!!!#no angst for you #(rondos are slightly anachronistic but whatever. potc as ever is plausibly historical‚ not accurate)#*fic #drabble game #johnbly #pirates of the caribbean #weatherby swann #james norrington

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johnbly · 8 months

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[FIC] souls at sea

Summary:

After his death, James Norrington finds himself on a boat on a strange and silent sea. He's not alone, and one fellow soul is a familiar one.

Word Count: 2,381

read on ao3

Excerpt:

First agony.

Then nothing.

And then…at first, James thinks there’s still nothing. But that alone – the fact he can think – is something. He begins to notice. He’s sitting. Yet something beneath him is moving. A look down shows a small boat, illuminated by the single lantern at the bow. Instinctively, he reaches over the edge of the boat, fingertips seeking water.

The moment he finds it, a chill grips his chest. He jerks back his arm, unnerved more than anything else. He knows the feel of the warm Caribbean and cool rain alike, but this water he floats on simply feels…wrong. Empty, somehow, as if what makes water water is absent, even though his fingers are slick.

Inspecting his hand draws his attention to something else: his jacket sleeve ends in a white cuff with golden embellishments. James glances at his chest and feels the top of his hat, both further confirming that he’s wearing his ceremonial commodore uniform.

He hasn’t worn it since that fateful day at Fort Charles. Turner, rash as ever, seeing fit to help Sparrow escape. Elizabeth, following her heart. And he, the commodore, following his – granting the pirate that damned head start so that Elizabeth might not look at him with disgust.

The very same disgust he can still remember from aboard the Empress.

The uniform he'd worn back in Port Royal, is wearing now, is much different than the one he’d died in. This hat is fancier, but he's without the epaulets. Those had been distinctions he'd always imagined earning through merit, not by betraying others and condemning God only knew how many lives in the process. Is that why he's in this uniform again? To remind him of the man he had been?

Nettled, James turns his attention outward. He’s not alone on this sea. Not a sound carries across the water, but there are other boats just like his. Each one has a lantern, though that’s where the similarities end. The passengers are old and young, man and woman – one even has three passengers, and he can’t help but wonder what fate they’d met.

His gaze freezes on the figure in one of the boats in front of him. He’s known several people with long wigs, but along with the hat and style of dress, one person comes to mind. One, in fact, that he’s been told is dead.

“Governor!”

The man in the boat turns. It is indeed Weatherby Swann. The confirmation of his death strikes James like another length of wood through the abdomen. Not that he’d suspected Elizabeth of lying – why would she about such a subject? And there’d been no mistaking her emotions – but there had been a small part of him that went further than simply not wanting to believe it: it couldn’t believe it.

Yet there’s no denying the evidence in front of him.

#james norrington #weatherby swann #potc #pirates of the caribbean #my writing

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random-of-random · 10 days

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The Pirate Queen

Author’s Note:

Here is the start of my new series. I hope you like it!

Chapter 1: The Viscountess

The string band was playing a lively tune and the wine was flowing as everyone who was anyone from Port Royal enjoyed the party that Governor Weatherby Swann was hosting. They all were waiting to see her. The noblewoman. Just the day before, a new woman had arrived in town and took up residence in the mansion next to the Governor’s. It was mere hours before the town knew - a noblewoman from England had come to Port Royal. Her husband - a Viscount in his own right - was the third son to Baron Somers. The news had been that Somers and his son, the Viscount, were looking to buy land and start harvesting crops.

What was known of his wife, so far, was that she was sent ahead with a small contingent of servants and a bodyguard. The husband was to sail in a months time and join his wife.

Captain James Norrington listened to the gossip with interest. Why would a nobleman with no ties to the Navy want to come to Port Royal?

“I have only spoken with her for a few moments, but she is delightful and very beautiful.” Governor Swann said with a smile.

“I am interested to hear of the business prospects her husband has in mind.” Norrington added.

“Come, come now Captain Norrington,” Governor Swann said with a chuckle. “Be more hospitable to our new Viscountess. If they enjoy it here and the soil is plentiful they could bring people like them to the area. Plus, should they have children you can encourage them into the Navy.” A few people around laughed and James gave a curt nod but a small smile. He knew, as well as the Governor knew, the nobility in England very much looked down on the islands - no matter how much money they made them. “Ah, here she is.”

Walking gracefully through the crowd, Viscountess Frances Somers was gorgeous. For a moment all James could do was stare. Her dress was the color of the deep ocean with a golden pattern throughout, with winged sleeves it came together it joined at the top of the shoulders and under was a corset and dress the same ocean blue. Her dark hair was tied up in and intricate design.

Behind her and to her side, in an even darker blue, was a man who’s eyes landed on everyone in turn. Her bodyguard, James guessed. He wore a sword and a pistol.

“Viscountess Somers.” Governor Swann walked forward to greet her.

“Governor Swann, it is lovely to see you again.” She spoke with a posh accent, common among the nobility.

“We are delighted you could come. I am sorry we could not have put on a proper party.” He apologized and the Lady did her best to hide a small amount of shock before covering it with a gracious smile, but not before Norrington caught it.

“Governor Swann, your home is beautiful and this party is a very kind gesture. I would not miss it for the world.” Her voice was soft and kind, but she was absolutely intriguing to James. Something about her seemed to not fit. Like a puzzle with a missing piece. Governor Swann put his hand behind his daughter’s back and slightly moved her forward.

“This is my lovely daughter, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth curtsied and so did the Viscountess in turn.

“Elizabeth, it is wonderful to meet you. Your father speaks so highly of you.”

“Thank you, Viscountess.” Elizabeth started with a kind grin.

“Please, dear Elizabeth call me Frances.”

“I do not believe I could be that informal.” Elizabeth said quickly and her father looked on proudly.

“Then I insist on Lady Frances, how would that be?”

Elizabeth gave a small laugh. “Wonderful, Lady Frances.”

“Good! But in no time at all I am determined to have to call me Frances.” The more she conversed with Elizabeth the more her eyes calmed.

“Lady Frances, your dress is beautiful. I don’t believe I have seen anything like it.” Elizabeth’s voice seemed strained in the compliment. As if it was one not really thought of by her, but that she was asked to say. Lady Frances ran her hand down the sides proudly.

“It’s called a robe battante.” She explained. “They are currently the talk of all things fashion in Paris.” A few people gave an ‘ooh’ as she had drawn a crowd around her. “You know, Elizabeth, I brought several with me. They are new and I would love to gift you with one. You could pick the color you like best and a seamstress could fit it to you.”

“Oh, Lady Frances, that’s incredibly kind of you.” Governor Swann said brightly.

“For all the hospitality you and Elizabeth are showing me, it is absolutely no trouble at all.”

“I would also like you to meet Captain James Norrington.” Swann indicated James. “He is one of the best Naval men on the island.”

Frances eyes lit up. “It is wonderful to meet you Captain.” He took her hand and kissed the top of it. The rush he felt go through him was expounded when he looked into her eyes. What looked like brown eyes from across the room were in fact Amber, he imagined they would look almost gold in the sunlight.

“The pleasure is all mine Viscountess Somers.”

“If I am not mistaken, Captain, you are going to be promoted to Commodore within a short time.” It was true. There had been talk of it for nearly a month. The date had, not yet, been set for him to receive the official title.

“How did you hear that?”

“I have only been here a day, Captain. However, small towns seem to be built for gossip.” Her eyes shone in a different way when she was talking to him. It was the same calm and genuine ease she had with Elizabeth as well. Governor Swann moved her toward more people he insisted she must meet and Norrington’s eyed followed her.

“Sir.” Lieutenant Groves walked up to him. “Have you met her? Everyone is talking about her.”

“She is quiet lovely, Lieutenant, but-“ he stopped talking to think for a moment.

“But what, sir?”

“I can’t seem to articulate it, Lieutenant. It is like she is acting in a play around certain people.” In her interactions with Elizabeth he noticed she wasn’t as tense. She talked calmly. When she talked to others is was a false sense of confidence. As if she was putting on a show, and Norrington didn’t know why.

“With all the people a noblewoman has to meet, I expect she is in a way.” Groves responded.

“Quiet right, Lieutenant.” James replied, She stayed merely an hour before she decided to leave, blaming it on the extraordinarily long travel time. Governor Swann, of course, said he understood and she promised to dine with Elizabeth as soon as she was available. Before she left the room her amber eyes found him she gave him a small nod. He nodded back, already looking forward to seeing her again.

Lady Frances’ bodyguard walked her securely toward the waiting carriage, even though the house she rented was a mere minutes walk. If nobility don’t have to walk, they wouldn’t. When they were out of earshot Edward Gorman let out a low whistle.

“They all hounded over you as if you were the last piece of meat among a pack of dogs.”

She laughed in return before dropping her posh accent. In reality her accent had been a mash of different cultures. Growing up in the colonies had afforded her to know people from various walks of life. The closest she came was Irish, having been born in Ireland and brought to the new world when she was just four.

“All they want to eat is the power that comes with my ‘title’ and we both know that would leave them starving.” With a low chuckle Edward helped her into the carriage and they headed for their temporary home.

——————————

As James Norrington sat at his desk in Fort Charles his mind kept wandering to Lady Frances. Her surprise at the Governor saying they party wasn’t grand enough, the difference in her countenance between people. He was missing something, and he couldn’t grasp at what it was. Part of himself reasoned it was just nobility, as Groves had suggested. It wasn’t as if he had met many, or any, real nobility direct from England. But then he remembered the way his heart raced and her eyes seemed to pierce through him. For that he felt guilty. He had already made his intentions toward Elizabeth known to her father.

In that moment a woman’s laugh rang out in the corridor followed by the tone of Governor Swann. He rose from his seat and entered the hallway to find the same woman he had been thinking about. Her hair still pulled back but in a modest green dress that somehow made her eyes even brighter.

“Captain!” Governor Swann said with a warm smile.

“Governor. Lady Frances.” He bowed toward her and she curtsied back. “I didn’t expect to see…. It’s highly irregular to have visitors at this time at the Fort. Especially women.”

“Captain-“ Governor Swann started but Frances interrupted.

“Oh, please don’t be cross with the Governor. I wanted to see everything that Port Royal has to offer and I asked to see the Fort.”

“I understand, Lady Frances, just that this is a prison. And we do have inmates, some of which are pirates,” She gave a small, almost imperceptible, smirk but he caught it. “Are you sure your husband would be comfortable with you being here?” Once again something in her seemed to shift as she gave him a genuine smile.

“I assure you, Captain, my husband knows I can be impetuous. Plus, I am standing here with the Governor and a Captain. Some of the best soldiers the Royal Navy has to offer are in this building. Even with my bodyguard outside, I don’t think I have felt safer in quite some time.” James couldn’t help but give a small smile. “I would be honored, if you aren’t too busy, if you would join us on this tour, Captain.”

He thought for a moment of the work he had, but then he looked at her again. The hopeful expression on her face won out. “It would be my delight, Lady Frances.”

They walked through the fort, skipping the actual jail cells - Norrington couldn’t even begin to think about bringing a Lady near the scum they had in there - as he showed her around the rest of Fort Charles. He talked about the history of the Fort and the Royal Navy. Showed her the battlements and the courtyard.

“Did you know,” Governor Swann started, “Captain Norrington’s father was the famous Admiral Lawerence Norrington?”

“An admiral?” Lady Frances asked. “As they say, talent begets talent, Captain. Though I suspect your success is your own.” He looked at her with surprise. In fact he almost stopped walking. Most everyone in Port Royal based who he was on his father, especially when he was starting out. He worked hard to make his own path and step of out the shadow of the man that came before him. Yet here was someone who saw him without a second thought.

“Thank you.” He said with a small nod.

As they turned another corner a messenger came. Slightly out of breath, it was clear he had run part, if not most, of the way from town.

“For Governor Swann.” He said as he handed him the note, and the Governor began to read it.

“Nothing serious, I hope.” Frances said softly.

“No, thank heavens not.” Governor Swann responded. “Though, I must away. Captain could you please continue the tour, and then escort her to her carriage?”

“Of course, sir.” Norrington answered and Swann said a hasty goodbye. “Probably a dispute among the merchants. What a busy and trying life he leads.” He said when Swann was around the corner.

Frances laughed, such a genuine laugh. Now Norrington was sure she was putting on a show for some of Port Royal, but he was determined to see the real side of her as often as he could.

He showed her the little things that only the soldiers really knew about. Talked about battles and traditions. However, slowly the conversation shifted and they were just talking. About the town, about the sea. He was surprised, yet delighted to find out how much she loved the ocean. He couldn’t think of a time when he had a more agreeable and pleasant conversation. When the topic of family came up again, they were on their way out of the fort.

“You seem to be able to see through me, if I may say so, Lady Frances.” He started, surprising himself with his own words. James Norrington was not one to show what he was thinking or his emotions. That had been trained out of him by battle.

“You’re referring to Swann bringing up your father.” She guessed.

“Yes, I am.” She seemed to give his arm and slight squeeze.

“Truth be told, Captain. I have never heard the name Lawrence Norrington before now. I judge who I see in front of me. So, you are your own man with me.” His eyes turned to her. She was looking straight ahead as they continued to walk. No hint of sarcasm, no sign that she didn’t genuinely mean what she was saying.

“That’s refreshing to hear.”

“It is I, Captain, who am grateful. Really, thank you for showing me around. It was made better by your addition to it.”

“I was happy to.” He replied quietly as they made their way outside. Somehow, talking to her made her even more of a mystery.

He could see the same bodyguard waiting for her by a carriage. A coachmen sat at the front.

He was right. Her eyes looked golden in the sun. The two of them seemed to walk slower as they didn’t want the interaction to end. The bodyguard climbed in first and James took her hand to help her in. When she was seated and turned toward him their eyes locked. His eyes were such an intense green that she couldn’t recall having seen a shade like that before. Neither wanting to look away. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Frances.”

“You as well, Captain Norrington.” He took a step back and the carriage headed off. Norrington stood in place for a few more seconds watching it go.

In the carriage she leaned back against the seat letting out a slow breath.

“How was the walk about Port Royal?” Edward laughed. “It’s the same small island town we have seen before.”

“I expected as much. The fort is pretty similar to everything else. The battlements are higher. It would be foolish for anyone to assault the city directly.”

“They say it’s one of the safest.” He eyed her a moment. “You were in there longer than expected.” His tone took on a teasing note. “Enjoying the company of Captain Norrington, are you?”

She took a deep breath and promptly ignored the question. “Any idea what the men got?”

Edward shook his head with a laugh. “They were out and headed to the house before I got back. Charlie says he found something you will like, though. Didn’t ya Charlie?” He tapped the top of the carriage.

“Just wait and see, Captain.” Charlie called back.

Captain Alice Buckley. She had several nicknames, but the crew just called her Captain. It had taken months of planning to come up with Lady Frances and to forge the correct documents that would secure her everything she needed. Now, the plan was in full swing and everyone had to play their part perfectly. If the authorities of Port Royal figured them out, they would end up locked in Fort Charles awaiting the noose. And she already didn’t want to see the look on James Norrington’s face if he found out who she was. For she hadn’t been able to have that good and calm and pleasant of a conversation in quite some time.

They made it to the house within several minutes. Edward got out first and held his hand out for ‘Lady Frances’ to keep up appearances. The two of them, followed by Charlie, walked into the house.

The house that Lady Frances and her Viscount husband were supposed to move into was enormous. Three stories of imported stone, many bedrooms, and the kitchen was set for a master chef and his team. The view from the balcony, out to the ocean, was the only thing Alice really loved. The grand staircase was easily eight feet across and the chandelier in the front room was magnificent. Off to the left were French doors to the massive dining room. They were currently open. The table, which could easily sit up to twenty people alone, was covered in many different papers that five men were pouring over. They turned when she walked into the room. She pulled her black hair down from it’s design and let out a long sigh.

“Captain.” Giles Dolan called to her. He had been sailing with her a long time, only a year less than Edward. He first sailed under Blackbeard, then Sam Bellamy, then he chose to sail under her.

“I know you respect the command, Giles but please call me Alice for today. If one more person calls me Lady Frances I’m going to vomit.” There were a few chuckles. “Elias.” “Alice.” He said with a smirk and she gave him a nod. “What did you find.”

“Not enough.” He answered in a disappointed tone. “We confirmed the routes the Navy takes to get to the different islands. They’re sneaky. They take alternating routes and change it every few weeks.”

The fact was the Royal Navy had made it their job to end piracy. Sam Bellamy had died in a storm. But Blackbeard was killed in the colonies and Stede Bonnet was hung. Anne Bonney disappeared (most fellow pirates believed the Navy had her locked up in a prison somewhere), and Black Bart was killed in battle. The Navy was winning. And aside from just robbing the crown, something that the crew and Alice had come to love doing, they hated the East India trading company. A company that stopping seeing the profit in alcohol and started seeing the profit in trading people. Sam Bellamy had made it his job to go after slave ships - something Alice Buckley was proud to continue.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing Elias. That sounds like something that will give our ships and advantage. Good work.”

“I know there is more in there.”

“I found something.” Charlie announced. “This one I didn’t even copy down, I just took it.”

“Are you trying to get us caught?” Robert Murray asked. Once a member of the Royal Navy he took the opportunity to jump sides when Alice and her crew raided his ship.

“They had more than one. Trust me.” He pulled the paper from his pocket and opened it slowly. They all started laughing at Alice’s wanted poster.

Under a poor drawing that looked nothing like her read:

“Wanted: Dead or Alive

Alice the Enchantress

Also known as Mad Alice.

She is described as having black hair and eyes so dark brown they look black.

150£ REWARD”

She was laughing. “Guys, are my eyes black? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

“Everyone who’s anyone knows,” Edward started, “anyone who gets too close to Mad Alice to see that her eyes are golden won’t live to tell the tale!” The men cheered and Charlie handed her a glass of whiskey from which she took a sip.

Carefully sitting at the table she took a deep breath in, trying to move with the corset she was wearing. It was rigged specially by a seamstress in Tortuga. She could get out of it and into it completely on her own. Save the guys from having to try to tie it every morning.

“So, the question is, how do we get back into the fort to try to find out more?” Edward asked.

Charlie asked the next question. “What specifically do we want to know?”

Alice took another sip of whiskey before speaking. “We want to know if they know about any pirate havens and which ones. If they have any spies on the islands, who and where. And, lastly, what they know specifically about The Banshee and the Wild Cherry.” She listed the two ships in her fleet.

She had left her first mate, James Callahan, in charge while she and a small crew came to Port Royal. The Navy would love to know they had men working for them that reported information to pirates. And right now the Royal Navy was pouring money into Port Royal. They needed to know everything the Navy did.

“Plus, we need to find out if any one man or set of men has been assigned to find our ships and our captain.” Giles said seriously. “We don’t want to get caught in the open like Blackbeard did.” They were quiet for a few moments.

“I can’t ask for another tour.” Alice sighed. “Norrington is smart. Smarter than the Navy deserves. Too bad we couldn’t make him a pirate.”

“He wouldn’t turn?” Edward asked.

“James Norrington?” Robert said with a laugh. “Son of Admiral Lawerence Norrington? Not in a million years. Lawrence Norrington made it his goal to catch and kill any pirate he found. It doesn’t surprise me James is smart. His dad was smart. Ruthless and cruel and smart.”

“I don’t think James Norrington is ruthless,” she replied as she remembered his green eyes and his kind smile. “but I don’t think he’ll be hosting the colors any time soon either.”

“We can’t go at night.” Elias said quickly. Elias was the stealthiest man on Alice’s crew. They joked he could be in a room full of broken glass and someone still wouldn’t hear him coming. “We don’t know any of the guard rotations, or how many their are.”

“Maybe we could change that.” Alice said quickly. “We throw a ball. Norrington is going to be named Commodore soon, and that would give the island a reason to celebrate.” She looked to her men with a wide grin. “We invite the entire Royal Navy on the island. Very few aren’t going to accept. The Fort will be at minimal guard and all of the big hitters will be here.”

“Are you sure that’s going to happen any time soon?” Giles asked.

“Governor Swann is a nice man, but he does like to brag for nobility.” Alice explained. “He mentioned Norrington’s promotion and that he is having a sword crafted for him. So, it must be happening within a fortnight at the latest.” They knew they were on a deadline. Their forged paperwork would only work for so long. Should someone get word to the crown and the crown send word back they would be forced to flee. They gave themselves a month.

Edward smiled. “Could work.”

“We would have to make this place really look like a noblewoman is living here.” Charlie pointed out.

“Well, we already have the furniture.” Robert said. They had rented it as is, and the person renting to them was easily fooled and manipulated. “We carefully hide any of our actual property, hire local servants and caterers. I am sure the Swanns have recommendations.”

Alice gave a nod. “Let’s put it to a vote. All in favor of a ball?”

Eight voices said in unison: “Aye!”

The knock at the door made them all uneasy for a moment. Charlie, still dressed in his coachman uniform headed for the main door while Edward and Elias closed the French doors and the curtains.

They heard low voices and the door shutting again before Charlie let himself into the dining room. “That was a servant from the Swann residence. The presence of Lady Frances is requested at a dinner tonight. They made sure to mention it would be a small dinner. Only fourteen including yourself.”

Alice leaned her head back. “I was looking forward to getting out of this.” She motioned to the corset.

“Of course you will.” Robert said with a shrug. “You can’t wear the same outfit to dinner that you wore to tour the Fort. What kind of noble are you?” The men laughed as Alice threw her crumpled up wanted sign at him.

“Careful with that!” Charlie said smoothing the paper. “I want to bring it back to the ship.”

#james norrington x reader #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington #James Norrington imagine #James Norrington imagines #jack davenport

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piratesgiftexchange · 7 months

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The Governor and the Commodore

by beemovieerotica, for @litallusion

PROMPT: “ I am determined to revoke Weatherington’s meme status and actually make it a credible ship, so a fic where James reflects on how Weatherby must feel about him after the hurricane would be perfect at achieving this, IMO. Can be as platonic or romantic as you like (although, of course, romantic is preferred ;) ).”

WORD COUNT: 4,482

It’s a funny thing, how a man will let himself believe that the cause of all his actions was a woman.

James Norrington knelt in the rocking longboat, his hands quivering, sword and pistol lying on the wood as the immensity of his current situation settled upon his soul. Endless blue stretched around the boat, the water rippling and flecked with dancing sunlight—and just over there, just out of reach, faint bubbles were rising to the surface. Slower now, trickling away…until they stopped altogether.

He raised his eyes to meet the man seated across from him. Weatherby Swann, his stately clothes now drenched with saltwater, removed his dripping wig and let it fall in a heap on the bottom of the boat. Their chests rose and fell in slowing breaths, calming, accepting—united. There could be no coming back from any of this.

They met each other’s eyes, and a wordless agreement passed between them: and within that agreement lay something deeper. The corners of their mouths ventured upward. This was a mutual banishment.

They could not go back. Would not go back.

——

Norrington now remembered the crossing from England with a fondness he never knew he bore.

The voyage and subsequent restationing had been assigned to him both by virtue of his rank and his lack of permanent attachments. A lieutenant in the Royal Navy, yet he had no wife, no children, no staunch desire to remain within the bounds of England’s shores—or better yet, her more tightly controlled colonies. He’d heard of young sailors who’d made their way in such places, where wealth, status, and a devoted spouse might easily be found, and a simulacrum of a Londoner’s life made there. But no, it simply wasn’t for him. It was not a preferable life.

Although he was not unusual in this choice, and it remained common among some sailing men, uncharitable assumptions tended to be made.

No, he was needed in dangerous waters. Such was the assignment of every unattached Navy man who had the wherewithal to devote himself to his duty and the promise of discovery over the mores and strictures of a life in calm seas. It was a sacrifice, he told himself.

Sacrifices for a new world, brimming with possibility.

Lieutenant Norrington shook the hand of the newly assigned Governor Swann upon the HMS Dauntless, two men bound by fate to endure the long voyage to a distant, unseen shore. They’d read ample reports of what the colonies were like, certainly. But every journey bore its mysteries, its hesitations…its threats. But it was not entirely proper to voice such things—certainly not from the Navy man meant to guide the other in a safe crossing.

Swann was the first to speak. “It’s all quite difficult to imagine, isn’t it? Starting a new life over there?” he asked, giving quiet voice to the fears within them both.

Norrington let a small smile cross his face, and he cast his eyes up toward the full white sails. “I imagine weeks will pass before the curtain falls,” he began, “and then we can be completely certain of having been removed from our former, comfortable lives and placed in the middle of an island, across the sea, away from everything we’ve ever known.”

Swann let out a soft chuckle. “Well, it’s still part of the empire, isn’t it?” he replied. “We’ll have our familiar foods and drinks, our fashions and our habits—perhaps harder to come by or maintain than we’re necessarily accustomed to—but we’ll have it. After all, isn’t that what civilization is for?”

Norrington grinned. “Indeed.”

The governor stepped to the railing and gazed out over the shimmering sea. “You wouldn’t believe how far we’ve come just in the time since I was your age,” he said. “It seems that every day, we discover some new barbarism within ourselves that we must cast aside to allow for new, changed men to grow.” Something stirred behind his eyes. “There can be no path forward without a reflection upon our past shame. Such is the way the world turns.”

“It’s hard to fathom a man of such success and devotion to his country as having anything to be ashamed of,” Norrington said.

Swann looked up at Norrington, a glimmer of surprise upon his features. Did the man not even conceive of himself in such a light? A moment passed before he replied.

“Every man bears the simple shame of being a man,” Swann said. And there was an unreadable expression in his countenance that followed.

There was so much more Norrington needed to know of this man.

Through the voyage, they found comfort in each other’s polite company: in conversation, in discussions of philosophy, and—at times—in matters that wandered close to the heart. They were conscious of who they were, but more than that, they knew who they needed to be. Governor, beacon, guide through the churning seas of progress. Lieutenant, protector, and enforcer if the other should falter.

Their meandering talks ended as always with the low, dwindling wick of a candle between them, their bodies slipping into shadow across a long desk, and they would fall quiet for a long while, listening. To the sea, they each thought—to each other’s breaths, they both wondered—and to the sounds of their own drumming hearts, there in the great space of the sea.

——

He had waited for the governor at the fort the night after his proposal to Elizabeth.

It had been a hectic day, bewildering on all fronts. He had anticipated some apprehension revolving around the day’s events, to be sure—namely, the bearing of his heart in the midst of his promotion to commodore. The elevation of his career carried the promise of a stable path forward in life, and following that, naturally, was the securing of a proper family, beginning with a wife. It was the order of the world, the way things were done.

But overshadowing all of that had been the arrival of a certain Captain Jack Sparrow, followed by his brutish acts—the threatening of the very woman he might one day marry—her rescue, and then Sparrow’s final, grateful arrest at the smithy. Too long a day. There had been no time to dwell at all on any reply from Elizabeth herself.

Meeting with her father, he thought, might illuminate uncertainties in the dark.

“Thank you, again, for the valiant bravery of you and your men today,” Swann said. It had been the third time he’d said it thus far. Norrington replied with a furtive smile.

The two were walking side by side atop the fort walls, the evening unusually chilly for the season. Of course, this followed an afternoon of blistering, dripping heat and humidity which had led to Elizabeth’s near-fatal fall into dangerous water. Tropical climes could never be so predictable.

“And Miss Swann, she is well?” Norrington asked.

Governor Swann chuckled lightly, and a sigh was mingled with the mirth. “Do you know what was the first thing she asked when we returned home? Father, have you seen the book I was reading last night? I’ve been meaning to finish it. Can you believe that? Not a word about being—being ransomed by a pirate, as if it were the most commonplace thing in the world!”

Norrington let out a huff of laughter. He could believe it. There was nothing he believed more of Elizabeth’s manner than that.

“I tell you, she’s made of far sterner stuff than I am,” Swann went on. “But her mother…” The man’s voice quieted, and once more he turned to gaze over the dark, still sea. Norrington remained one step back, watching the man slip into memory. “She was a woman of such boundless courage, conviction, and foresight, I fear I lack all that is required to set my daughter on the right path. Where she led, I simply forgave. Perhaps that is all a father is good for. Forgiveness.”

A pause, and then he abruptly turned toward Norrington with a hand upon his heart. “My apologies, I did not in any way mean to suggest that you are not the right path for my daughter. On the contrary, it is Elizabeth’s stubbornness to consider the prospects of marriage at all that has made this whole arrangement so difficult to carry through to completion.”

Norrington gave an understanding nod, his brows furrowed. “Of course.”

“You are ideal in every respect,” Swann continued. “Not just a decent man, but a tremendously good one. And you know that I’ve enjoyed every moment of your company and counsel over these years. There cannot be a better choice than you,” he said. The slightest, most barely tangible pause. “To make my daughter happy.”

It was difficult to see much in the low lantern light—but how Norrington strained to make out the expression on the other man’s face. How were they always here, in moments of darkness, speaking so openly as if none else in the world existed? As if perceiving his innermost thoughts, Swann spoke again.

“I feel that we were bound together by our mutual crossing, stepping into this new world side by side,” he said quietly. “I would have you join my family, above all others, in whatever manner that may be.”

A trembling silence followed. Norrington opened his mouth to give a hurried reply of thanks, his heart beginning to beat loudly in his chest against all reason. But something prickled in his mind. “In whatever manner…?” he asked, the words slipping out before he had a chance to silence them.

Swann did not move his gaze from Norrington’s face, both dappled in firelight as a cold breeze shook the lantern just beyond their reach. For the briefest moment, Swann’s eyes were illuminated—and there, right there, he could see it—Swann’s eyes were filling with tears.

As it is with all things hanging on the precipice of discovery, interruptions come too easily.

Cannonfire rang out through the harbor, and seconds before it struck, Norrington leapt upon Swann to bring them both to the ground—clutched together, hidden, safe.

——

The unending efforts to rescue Elizabeth from the pirates were wearing down on them all.

Days and nights bleeding into the early morning hours were spent in planning, negotiations, and strategizing: coordination with merchant vessels, following through on every possible lead, organizing for provisions, weaponry, and able men to crew the ships that were presently scouring every route the infamous Black Pearl might have taken. It was a daunting amount of sea to search, chasing a ghost ship faster than the wind itself.

Norrington and Swann found themselves striding from one end of the town to the other on most days than not, wrapped up in meetings and stratagem, bundles of parchment between them with maps and manifests for everything that could lead to the safe return of the governor’s daughter.

They could not spare a moment to rest, though their bodies could scarcely keep up with their spirit.

“Here, allow me,” Norrington said. He maneuvered a heavy box of documents out of Swann’s unwilling hands, urging him to release it, until Swann finally relented with a sigh. The governor had deep hollows under his eyes which no amount of bluster could hide.

“Take my arm,” Norrington insisted. He held the box easily under one arm and offered the crook of his other to the older man. Swann waved a hand dismissively and made to keep walking, but Norrington pressed. “It would not do to have you stumble and fall. Now, please.”

“I may be old, but I am not infirm,” Swann retorted.

“I can see your legs quivering.”

Norrington’s eyes flicked downward, and when they returned, he saw the other man’s face beginning to turn red. But Swann did not protest, and with his lips sealed tight, he took Norrington’s arm tight with one hand, and the two proceeded onward.

“I apologize if I’ve embarrassed you,” Norrington said quietly, their footsteps sounding upon the stone street. “But you must allow me to ensure that you are in your best health, to prevent any injury from befalling the governor of this colony.”

“I do not believe that’s part of your formal duties,” Swann said with an amused edge to his tone.

A smirk crossed Norrington’s lips. “Then would you indulge me this extra responsibility?”

Swann looked sidelong at Norrington, and their gazes met for a lingering moment. “I suppose I can indulge you,” he said softly.

A warm shiver crept up Norrington’s spine—the climate and the exertion, he reasoned.

The two continued with their near non-stop planning for Elizabeth’s retrieval, and it was only when they finally set sail on the Dauntless that they were granted a moment to breathe. Finally, they were relieved of managing and overseeing absolutely everything that needed to be done. Swann was once more just a passenger upon a vessel, and Norrington had his assembly of officers to ease his administrative burdens.

Days passed at sea, the ships tracing well-traveled trade routes.

Perhaps it was the comfortable familiarity of the same ship that had carried them to the new world, bringing them together once more, or perhaps it was the tight quarters and proximity of both the physical and the intangible memories bubbling to the surface—but Norrington and Swann found themselves again in each other’s conversational company into the late hours of the night.

They needed time to process, to breathe.

Swann poured a glass of wine for himself at his desk with Norrington seated across from him in the candlelight. Such a familiar place to be.

“I think I can forgive myself this one indulgence in the midst of all that has transpired,” Swann said. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, and he paused for a moment before lifting it up. “Are you certain that I can’t pour you one as well? It feels quite rude of me to deny a man a drink while enjoying one right in front of him.”

Norrington gave a small smile. “The far more improper act would be my inebriation during my duty hours,” he replied. “Please, don’t hesitate on my behalf.”

Swann nodded and brought the drink to his lips. He swallowed gratefully, savoring the taste, and then he sighed. “Would that we could speak to the sea itself to discern where Elizabeth has gone. But that’s what a sailor’s intuition must become, in its maturation and exercise, isn’t it?”

Norrington frowned for a moment, his gaze settling on the glass, seeing past it. “One would hope,” he said quietly. “Though, every day, I see myself growing more capable of weathering the whims and tides of man and obligation, but my ability to understand nature itself remains as bereft of insight as the day I was born.”

Swann smiled gently over the rim of his glass—the first time he had smiled so in a while. “Insight and wisdom may come yet with age,” he said. “Consider yourself lucky to still have so much vitality within you.”

Swann continued to sip his drink, his eyes upon Norrington. And though he had not had anything to drink, Norrington felt a heat creep up beneath his collar. “It’s quite warm in here,” he remarked suddenly.

“Is it?” Swann asked. His gaze had not left the younger man, and finishing his current sip, his tongue tracing the taste of wine upon his lips, he offered out the glass to Norrington. “Please,” he said as Norrington instinctively raised a hand in protest, “it’s a wonderful vintage, and I would hate to finish it all myself without giving you the courtesy of one taste.”

Norrington eyed the glass, the damp print of Swann’s lips still upon it, and he looked back up. His chest was growing hot—he might need a refitting for his coat, he thought. “There will only be one glass upon the table,” Swann went on, “and if anyone should enter, they will quite reasonably assume that I have been the one partaking, not you.”

The corner of Norrington’s mouth twitched up, and he gave a sigh of amused resignation. “Very well,” he said.

The glass passed between them, and as it did, Swann held onto it for a moment longer than was needed. The edges of their fingers brushed against one another. Norrington looked up, and he caught a strange, furtive gaze from Swann before the glass was relinquished into his hands.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

Norrington cleared his throat and brought the drink to his lips—the flavor pooled upon his tongue, rich, deep, evocative, and he let out an almost too-vulnerable mmm before he finally lowered it from his mouth. He had partaken a bit more than he had intended to. More than he should have—but just as much as he had wanted.

When he looked up, Swann’s gaze was upon him, the man’s lips parted.

He knew what was meant to follow. And it was all that he had wanted, there in the secretive shadows of his soul.

Had he ever kissed another like this before? There had been fleeting courtships back in London, long before any of this, before he had made that journey to an unknown shore. Destiny. Fate. Intertwined. He and the very man who had given breath to his fears upon that voyage leaned across the desk, their lips tasting of wine, the only part of them touching for the barrier between them that neither dared to fully cross. Norrington steadied himself with a hand upon the desk, and his wrist knocked aside the wine glass, spilling it entirely, sending dark red trailing over the edge onto the floor. But neither stopped. He didn’t know when they might stop—hoped they might never—as all the years of practiced, circling courtesies between them came to this abrupt coalescence.

And as with so many unexpected ecstasies, it was unfortunately interrupted.

A knock on the door parted them, and they returned to their seats, adjusting their collars, smoothing down the edges of their wigs as they cleared their throats. Norrington glanced about the floor for anything that had dropped, and he hurriedly replaced the empty glass upon the desk, sliding it over toward Swann’s side just moments before the door opened.

“I don’t believe I called out yet for you to enter,” Swann said, his voice tinged with indignation at the newly-arrived captain.

Norrington’s heart was still beating hard within his chest, but it quivered all the more to hear how bothered Swann was by their parting.

“There’s a smoke signal, north-northeast of here,” the captain said.

The two men sprang to their feet.

In the commotion that followed, there was no time for words let alone fleeting glances to address any of what had transpired between them. And when Elizabeth was found, when she was finally, gratefully safe on board, when all believed they had put behind the chaotic and gallivanting pursuit of the ship full of ghost pirates, she’d said the words.

“As a wedding gift.”

Time stopped. The minutest of glances between Norrington and Swann followed, and then, of course, came her father’s joy.

Part of the family, in whatever manner.

——

When Elizabeth chose Will, up on the fortress walls, without an ounce of hesitation at the life that would bring, Norrington felt a quietude settle over his soul. Any other man so spurned and led around believing his proposal was accepted, to his own detriment, might have flown into a fury. But Norrington gave only an acknowledging smile, with an understanding far deeper than anyone might have known. He accepted it all. Who better than he knew the strength of an unconventional love?

He found Swann some ways off in a quiet corner away from prying ears and eyes. The governor was deep in thought, resting his chin upon one knuckle. He stared out over the walls toward the town he was charged with leading into a brighter, more prosperous age.

“Governor Swann?” Norrington ventured.

It was a moment before Swann turned to him, and his eyes were foggy as if he were only seeing the other man for the first time. “Ah,” he said. Norrington slowly drew near, and he was surprised when Swann took a distant step back. Swann held up his hands, palms out, his eyes downcast. “I have—there is so much for me to consider at this time,” he began.

The air went still. A distant bell rang out somewhere in the harbor. Norrington felt something cold begin to tighten upon his heart.

“Too much is uncertain,” Swann went on. “I’m afraid I will be…terribly preoccupied for the foreseeable future.”

This, Norrington could not weather as easily as he had Elizabeth’s refusal. His jaw tightened, and his eyes blurred, hot and stinging. He took a moment to breathe.

“Do you feel nothing?” he asked in a hiss.

Swann furrowed his brows. “Feel for whom?”

Norrington could not speak the words. But they were there in his burning eyes.

Swann spoke in a hush, and it was clear from the pain in his gaze that he was doing not what he wished, but what duty called him to do. “It cannot be,” he whispered, shaking his head. “It simply cannot be.”

Norrington could not, for the sake of his station, for the sake of them both, press the governor any further.

He bit the inside of his mouth until it bled. “Understood,” Norrington murmured.

He turned and departed, and something in his heart felt as if it were severed.

——

Many would have said that Norrington lost his mind in the tempest that took his ship and his crew. That the violent storm, battering him so, whipping him through wind and water had stripped him of any sense or care in the world. But it had not happened then. No, it had happened before, there on the fort walls, when the governor bid him goodbye.

He threw himself into the pursuit of the next impossible thing: the pirate with the fastest ship in the world.

It was mad, he knew. He might die, of course. He didn’t care, there was nothing else worth committing his time to, and when he set sail in the direction of that next impossible thing, he looked back over his shoulder toward the mansion high upon the hill where he knew—he knew the governor was at the window, looking out toward the sea.

And he lost it all.

Then he turned to drink.

And just when he believed his life and everything were over, opportunity struck once more, and he found himself in the midst of the next fantastical thing. Another cursed ship, another crew of the damned, but then a heart: a beating, physical thing. He carried the terrible thing back to the place where it had all come undone: to the fort of Port Royal.

It weighed heavy in his hands. He could not think of it.

He understood now why a man might carve out his heart.

And upon his return, by the magnanimity of Lord Beckett, his career was restored to him. Just like that. Of course, there was the ceremony to be done, his promotion to admiral, which was still beyond belief…and the man bestowing his promotion could be none other than the governor himself.

——

They met again on the fortress, this time under banners, muskets, and a beating sun.

Norrington’s palms were damp with apprehension, his eyelids flickering beneath beads of sweat. And he did not know how he felt, could not describe the maelstrom of emotions that tore through him now, when Swann appeared, standing clear across from him between the lines of marines—and the man’s face was painted with stark relief.

He was glad to see him. He had wished for his survival.

And Norrington regretted all he’d done instantly, the pain and terror that must have beset Swann, and as he walked up to face the other man, Swann presented him once more with the very same sword he had earned those years ago. Here they were, circling back to the beginning.

“It’s good to see you again, James,” Swann whispered.

He could not speak for the sob that remained stifled in his throat.

——

They found themselves once again on a ship far out at sea. This time they were under still more perilous circumstances, as the heart of Davy Jones beat within a chest, guns trained on it. Beckett had cowed the devil of the seas into submission, and so too had he maneuvered the governor into unwilling compliance. They were the three of them, Norrington, Swann, and Jones, mere dogs of an uncaring master.

Norrington tried to console Swann, but it was as if the man were at all times within a trance. He could think of nothing, speak of nothing else but his absent daughter.

It was when Jones told them all that he had seen Elizabeth’s ship sink that Swann became undone. He threw himself toward the heart with a father’s unbridled fury, willing to die.

“Let me end it!” he cried.

Norrington intervened, holding the man, clutching his arms and urging him to calm. All sound seemed to trickle from the room, save for the muffled conversation between Beckett and Jones.

“…she’s still alive…”

“…geis upon the heart…”

Norrington was unsure of how much of it the distraught Swann even comprehended. But he saw the look that passed between Beckett and his right hand man. There was an understanding there, and then a nod to the governor. He knew far too much.

After all he knew of the man now, Norrington wouldn’t dare think Beckett unwilling to cross the line of treason.

“I’ll go,” Norrington said, with Swann still weeping in his arms.

Another exacting look passed between Beckett and Mercer.

“Go?” Beckett asked. “With him?”

“I will see to what must be done,” Norrington replied. “Grant me as much. An assurance by my own eyes that it will be merciful.”

And for whatever reason, perhaps out of pity, Beckett waved a hand to permit it.

The three of them: Norrington, Swann, and Mercer, descended into a longboat.

He never would have imagined himself doing this. Not for anyone. Not even for Elizabeth. Because this, too, was unconscionable: to kill the right hand man of a lord. To destroy any chance he might have at a peaceful return to civilization. To throw away all that he had worked for, his entire career, every notion of who he was, up until this moment.

He waited until they were out of sight of the ships, when he knew with absolute crystalline clarity that Mercer was of a singular mind. Swann had been seated between the two of them as the younger men rowed, with his body facing Norrington, his back to Mercer, his eyes pinned on the distant horizon. Through all the exertion and ache of his arms, Norrington’s gaze never once left Swann’s tear-stained face.

It was finally when Mercer drew a dagger from his belt and looked to Norrington with a conspiratorial nod that Norrington sprang to action.

They had so foolishly assumed Norrington’s compliance. He had given them plenty of reason to believe it so, with his endless scraping and bowing to the man who had had him pinned beneath one heel. He surged past Swann, like a hawk striking its prey, and engaged Mercer in a hand-to-hand struggle.

Swann let out a scream as the dagger went tumbling into the water.

“You…will not…take him,” Norrington hissed.

And it was as Norrington’s arms were beginning to tremble, his grip loosening upon Mercer’s neck, that Swann joined him—his old arms infused with a terrible vengeance.

The two men quieted Beckett’s man forever. They thrust him over the side, down into the water, where only the sea would speak of it.

Swann and Norrington looked to each other, the distant ships receding as the tide pushed them farther away, toward islands speckled on the horizon. Swann drew a hand across his damp brow.

“There can be no going back,” Swann said.

“No,” Norrington replied quietly. He drew in a deep breath and picked up his oar, squinting against the sun toward salvation. “Shall we?” he asked.

Swann did not move for a moment. “Why do this?” came the impossible question.

Norrinton could not reply for a long time. The words caught in his throat—adulation and poetry and so many overwhelming ways of saying precisely the same thing. His mind finally settled upon the clear, simple truth.

“It was always you,” he finally said. “And there will be none other than you.”

The great sea rocked them gently, two men inextricably tied by the cords of fate.

Swann’s pale cheeks flushed red, and he cleared his throat loudly, picking up one oar with a decisive hm. Despite it all, his hands were no longer trembling. “To distant shores,” he said triumphantly. “To new possibilities.”

Norrington felt a smile cross his face. And Swann replied with an improbable, endearing, tenderly soft chuckle.

The two men paddled on in unison, their oars cutting through the waves together, onward into the unknown.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #weatherby swann #james norrington #submission #round 5

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arrthurpendragon · 11 months

Text

Prologue Sneak Peek!

Since a few of you asked . . .

A grey impenetrable wall of fog masked the H.M.S. Dauntless as she made her voyage across the Atlantic bound for Port Royal. Governor Weatherby Swann had been appointed by the King of Great Britain as governor of the bustling harbour town and was making the trek with his two young daughters. While Elizabeth had been excited about their new adventure, Georgianna had to be dragged kicking and screaming aboard the vessel. Seeing his youngest daughter screaming for her dear late mama broke Governor Swann’s heart, but leaving their sorrows behind and starting anew was what he deemed necessary for their small family.

Young Georgianna spent most of her time below deck during the voyage. The young lass hadn’t developed her sea legs and therefore confined herself to her bed as her remedy for the seasickness. Even though the remedies of mint and ginger tea seemed to lessen her ailment.

Whereas Elizabeth appeared quite put together despite the voyage, Georgianna’s appearance was much more dishevelled. Her hair was matted, her face paler than at the start of the journey, and her clothes hung a bit looser than before. Young Georgianna looked as miserable on the outside as she felt on the inside. But Elizabeth took it upon herself to rectify that.

“Georgie, up,” Elizabeth said shaking her sister by the shoulders.

Georgianna simply groaned and rolled over, still dressed in her nightclothes and buried beneath the quilts.

“Georgie!”

Elizabeth yanked the quilts off her sister which tossed young Georgianna from her bed. She squealed as she fell to the floor before hitting it with a thud.

“Lieutenant Norrington said some fresh air might do you some good,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly as she rested her hands on her hips.

Georgianna glared up at her sister with her arms folded across her chest. “I do not wish to go above deck,” Georgianna retorted.

“And I wish you would willingly do what I say.” Elizabeth looked at her sister pointedly. “Come now, Georgie. We might see pirates! Would you truly want to be below deck should we see them?”

Elizabeth reached down and pulled her sister reluctantly to her feet. Of course Georgianna wanted to see pirates. Although she wa not quite as fascinated with them as her sister. When the sisters had discovered they would be making the voyage, they played pirates in the garden. Much to Georgianna’s dismay, Elizabeth even made her walk the plank!

“We’d better see some pirates,” Georgianna muttered as Elizabeth forced her to sit on a stool so that her older sister could brush the rat’s nest from her hair.

After several passes of the brush through Georgianna’s hair, Elizabeth tugged at a knot. “Ouch!” Georgianna hissed, reaching for the back of her head. She attempted to pull away from her sister, but Elizabeth pulled her back. “Pirates will not care what my hair looks like!”

“No, but Father will.”

Georgianna rolled her eyes. She knew that as the new governor’s daughters they had appearances to keep. While her father had been a little more lax on the journey thus far, Georgianna knew that once they were in Port Royal they would have people who cared about such things. Why couldn’t girls wear their hair shorter like boys? It would make things much simpler. Why hadn’t she been born a boy?

#ocappreciation #oc: georgianna swann #fic: at wit's end #fd: pirates of the caribbean #chapter sneak peek

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tortoisesshells · 11 months

Note

For the five sentences meme: james and governor swann in number 42?

(challenge: write about Jimothy N. without quoting Julius Caesar again: FAILED.)

Weatherby Swann had been too-serious and young once, and this knowledge made it a little easier to speak sensibly too-serious Lieutenant Norrington – who had gone still, impervious, and proud at Weatherby’s anodyne mention of the young man’s illustrious father. Two weeks’ acquaintance had convinced him of the young man’s ambitions – that the Lieutenant had looked at Captain Cushing with what a more talented pen than his had called a lean and hungry look. Lieutenant Norrington did not laugh and held himself sternly, as thought he might be called on to restore order at any moment; what’s more, that he would take the same grim satisfaction in it as he did in – well, whatever it was an officer did when there was no need for the sword.

Perhaps he was paying the fourth Lieutenant of the Dauntless more mind than he did the others because he had known Admiral Norrington, and the Admiral Norrington before him – naval families did tend to run on in that way, he had heard. The Swanns, despite their name, had never been a great family for the sea – in one way of the other, it had been everything but. Still, a man could not sit still all through his life – and under such circumstances as bereavement, which could only be thought around and not of – Weatherby had only smiled and acquiesced and gone to that distant place where the Crown would send him.

Send me a number and two characters, and get a five sentence drabble!

#hope this fits the bill kind friend!#it's my party and i'll make up the command structure of the dauntless if i want to!#fic #my fic #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington #weatherby swann

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nzbricks · 1 year

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MinifigureSowcase: Pirates of the Caribbean Extended Cast

While the short lived LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean theme captured the visage of many of the franchise’s most iconic characters, there were several whose lack of representation left something to be desired. As such, I have taken it upon myself to encapsulate said characters, using exclusively LEGO with my own custom designs.

1. Lord Cutler Beckett

Arguably the main antagonist of the series, and undoubtedly that of the third film, Lord Cutler Beckett displays a cunning wit and masterful manipulation to seize control of the open ocean. His commanding presence portrayed by Tom Hollander was unfortunately never captured in LEGO form, outside of the LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean game. In the spirit of said game, while not “stooping” to the level of comical humor, I have used dark brown mid-legs to capture Beckett’s *AHEM* Napoleonic disposition. Outside of that, a 15th century wig from the LEGO revolutionary soldier (yeah, THAT was a thing!) and an existing face print and cane lended by a Harry Potter wand concluded the ensemble of LEGO Cutler Beckett.

2. Governor Weatherby Swann

An exponentially simpler minifigure, Governor Weatherby Swann’s roles in the film series dwindled as it went on, ending in his off-screen demise a third of the way through At World’s End. Coincidentally, it is from his brief appearance in that film that I have based his minifigure counterpart. Inspired by the LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean game, the Governor uses the same exact hair piece as his daughter, recolored in light grey to resemble his pompous wig. The wrinkled face of a diplomat is courtesy of Gandalf the Grey from the LEGO The Hobbit line specifically. And, like may of the more regal characters in the PotC franchise, Wetherby Swann’s garb varies from scene to scene, so I chose to emulate his sand green coat featured in, as previously mentioned, At World’s End.

3. Commdore James Norrington

James Norrington is one of the oft overlooked characters in the Pirates of the Caribbean films, which is an awful shame, considering how perfect the grandeur of his righteous demeanor juxtaposes the crude heroism of everyone’s favorite Captain. Not to mention, in one capacity or another, he is present in all three of the first films. However, while his drunken, disheveled look from Dead Man’s Chest was officially captured in LEGO set 4183 The Mill, we never got to see his far more prevalent and memorable Commodore/Admiral garb. Fortunately, many new parts have been introduced to the LEGO catalogue to accomplish the task of promoting a magnificent officer. I couldn’t decide whether to use his more yellow look from the third film or his whiter look from the first, but ultimately decided on the latter because of it’s more coherent scheme. Finally, his head comes courtesy of Legolas, ironically a LEGO iteration of one of Orlando Bloom’s famous characters. And the Commodore’s hat is no more than the LEGO Pirate girl’s hat/hair piece, with the hair colored silver. It by no means ideally matches the good Commodore’s appearance, but it does come far closer than what a simple tricorne could accomplish.

4. Elizabeth Swann

Elizabeth is one of the characters who, albeit extremely sparingly, was depicted in LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean, particularly set 4181 Isla De Muerta, which depicts her red dress version from the first film. However it is undeniable that Elizabeth started playing a far more active role in the second and third films. As such, I have elected to remake her minifigure, reusing her stellar face print and hair, while making a new torso that resembles her garb from the latter part of Dead Man’s Chest. It’s a simple cut, but it compliments Will Turner’s similarly simplistic look. Perhaps in the future I will remake her minifigure again, reusing the face and hair but making her appearance as seen in At World’s End.

#pirates #Pirate Ship #lego pirates #LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean #piratesofthecaribbean #pirates of the caribbean #will turner #elizabeth swann #Jack Sparrow #Captain Jack Sparrow #lego #legocustom #legocommunity #LegoMiniFigures #orlando bloom #tom hollander #kiera knightley

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