Siren Song: Curse of the Black Pearl

Chapter 1

The fog surrounded and closed in on the ship, except for the black flag. As Elizabeth watched in some morbid curiosity, the skull appeared to turn and grin at her, and she shuts her eyes tightly.

~- Elizabeth's room, Governor's Mansion, Port Royal, Eight Years Later-~

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open, her heart racing and she took shaky gasping breaths, as if she was struggling to breath. She clenched her eyes shut once again, before opening them slowly. She's no longer thirteen, she's 21, she's no longer on the stern of the forever intimidating HMS Dauntless, she's in her bedroom, and just woke up from a nightmare, or resurfacing childhood memories... She was never quite sure.

Elizabeth sat up, not enjoying the creeping darkness, and turned up the flame on the oil lamp beside the canopied bed she slept in. Carrying the lamp across the room, she approached her wooden dressing table, and sat down in the softly padded chair.

Pulling out one of the small drawers, she reached into a space beneath it, and removed the medallion. She ran her thumb over the smooth grooves. Eight years and it still hadn't lost it's shine, nor had it stopped the feeling of fear it gave her. She gazed at it, and absently returned the drawer to its slot in the table.

Suddenly, a booming series of knocks sounded from the door, causing Elizabeth to jump up out of reflex, which caused her to knock over her chair. The surprise didn't give her the time to catch the chair, since she was to focused on the intruder who dared to encroach upon her at whatever time of night it was, at least she assumed it was night, as she hadn't opened the curtain's yet.

"Elizabeth? Is everything alright? Are you decent?" She relaxed at the familiar voice of her father.

"Yes! Yes, uh, one moment!" Elizabeth said, hurriedly putting the medallion on. She threw on a dressing gown as he entered with Roxanne, who also must've just woken up and already looked fantastic. But that was just her infuriatingly natural beauty, though she supposed it couldn't be helped given what she was...

Roxanne was only a couple years older than her, but she was still one of the most beautiful people Elizabeth had ever seen. Second only to Victoria but she kept that to herself. Roxanne, had matured into a gorgeous young woman, her long hair had been cut to be more manageable, though not by much. Her tired brown eyes seemed to sparkle as she walked, carrying herself like the Queen of England, which she damn well could've been, but Elizabeth wouldn't tell anyone that, it would stroke her ego.

Her father, she noticed was carrying two large boxes. Dresses, she assumed, as she saw some uniformed maids following behind the precision of her father and Roxanne.

"Still abed at this hour? It's a beautiful day!" Her father chided as Estrella, one of the maids, pulled back the heavy curtains, making Roxanne and her cover their eyes at the sudden brightness, and Roxanne growled in annoyance.

Looking out the window revealed a blue sky that spanned over the bucolic town of Port Royal, built on a natural harbor. On a bluff at the mouth of the harbor stands Fort Charles, its stone parapets lined with powerful cannons, ready to defend the port from the Spanish and Pirates alike.

"I have a gift for you, Roxanne, and Victoria if she gets home soon." Her father sighed, Victoria was always up in the early morning hours, "exploring" she called it, but Elizabeth and Roxanne agreed that she probably knew most of the Island already. Setting the boxes down on her bed, her father opened one he displayed for her the gorgeous golden velvet dress. Roxanne and her let out an admiring gasp, and studied it closer.

"It's beautiful! May I inquire as to the occasion?" Roxanne asked, taking in the details with wide eyes.

"Is an occasion necessary for a father to dote upon his daughter and charges with gifts?" Swann smiled, and Roxanne grinned, though she was not his daughter, he might as well have made her one. But she also knew this was probably to help convince them to go to something, as these kinds of gifts often were.