in which the pirates of the carribean invite you to join them on the high seas.
"there is nothing that can console me but my jolly sailor bold."
XREADER
2017 - 2020
It was always a strange mix of emotions whenever you met Lord Beckett and it was usually an even stranger interaction.
You were just managing by your own accounts after William Turner, the man who trained you as a blacksmith and your adoptive brother, left for a life of piracy. You thought given the connections that Lord Beckett would never use your services but the man proved you wrong.
First it was repairs on various items, the occasional one here and there, then he wanted you to fashion a ring.
"Who's it for?" You asked him as he stood in the doorway to your shop, "I don't have no jewels or nothing if it's that kind of ring."
It was hot in the Caribbean but about ten more degrees so next to your burning fire. Your clothes stuck to you as you watched him.
"I assure you, it is not that kind of ring," He chuckled to himself and he took out a small object from his waistcoat pocket and threw it to you, "It is going to be a signet ring. That's the Beckett seal. I trust you can use that."
You examined it, nothing particularly lavish or even above average, "What's the C stand for? Christopher?" You asked.
He looked at you for just a moment too long, "I don't know your first name Turner so don't expect to know mine."
He left as you smiled to yourself, "Bet it's Charles. They're always a Charles."
The ring was well done and you received the relevant praise, a thank you and payment before being shown the door.
Yet this time it was different; you had a sword in a leather holder at your side and it was the sharpest and more eloquent one you have ever made.
You knocked on the door to his personal study, he had never asked you to come before to his own space, you couldn't deny that you were beyond excited, "Enter."
You did and were stunned, how you wished to have such fine things as he did. The map painted on the wall intrigued you line no other picture could.
"Well don't just stand there," He stood up from his desk and outstretched his hand, "My sword if you will."
"Oh yes. Sorry Lord Beckett." You gave him the weapon and stood back with your hands behind your back, you felt severely put of place here as you tapped your feet against the ground.
This is how Lord Beckett tested your craftmanship.
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"Exquisite. Well done Turner." He told you.
"Thank you sir."
"Do you own a sword yourself?" He asked.
"Only a bad one sir, the first one I made with Will that's about two foot too small, but it does the job. I guess, in honesty sir, I never learnt how to use one."
"Interesting."
You thought he may have had some more to say but instead he found five gold coins to pay you with.
"Thank you, sir."
You didn't want to leave but knew you had to, there was nothing more he wanted to talk to you about.
Just as you were about to close the door Beckett interrupted you, "Tomorrow morning 11 o'clock."
"Excuse me?"
"That's when your combat training shall begin, you may use this very sword."
"But sir I don't-"
"I shall hear no more of it Turner. 11 o'clock, someone who makes as fine a sword as this should be able to defend themselves with one."
Never had you smile been broader and as happy, "Thank you sir, it means the world, thank you."
Out of panic you actually curtsied to him softly, his laugh was soft.
"And Turner, it's Cutler, Cutler Beckett."
When you told him your own first name he nodded and as you closed the door he was left thinking just how lovely that sounded when you said it.
