Beyond the Horizon - PotC fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Beyond the Horizon
Fandom: PotC
Disclaimer:  Not my characters. Just for fun. 
Warnings: AU after CotBP
Pairings: implied slash; het 
Rating; PG-13
Wordcount: 710
Point of view: third
Notes: The tenses vary.  Sorry.

 

Will can barely recall his life before Elizabeth and Mr. Brown. He knows his mother died of cold and his father left one day to never return. He knows his father left him a necklace when he vanished, a gold coin on a chain.

For ten years he thought the sea swallowed it.

Will knows he’s incredibly lucky; few orphans are looked after by governors. Few orphans are handed apprenticeships so quickly.

So what if Mr. Brown sometimes hits him? He shouldn’t have made mistakes. So what if Mr. Brown sometimes uses a belt or heated sword? He’s lucky to have a pallet to sleep on, a roof over his head, and food.

Will feels an affinity for the blade. He quickly learns everything Mr. Brown knows; by his fourteenth birthday(two years and nine months into the apprenticeship) he’s already better than his master. He practices with the swords he makes, steadily improving his stamina, speed, and strength.

Elizabeth is the brightest spot of his life. She checks in on him, visits with him, tells him secrets and hopes. He responds in kind, except for Mr. Brown’s treatment. He speaks of what he remembers of before, his daily trials, about the people of Port Royal.

Very easily, Elizabeth could have been a spoiled child, a bratty girl. Her father catered to her every whim, giving her books and toys and clothes. Will provided a balance to that—instead of the servants and townsfolk being faceless underlings, Will shared with her their souls.

She fell in love first. They were fifteen and walking along the beach. Elizabeth spoke of the suitor who’d called, an older gentleman who wanted heirs. He was rich, richer than her father; he would take her back to England and make her lady. Will lightly touched her arm and she turned to face him. He looked deep into her eyes and said softly, earnestly, “You can always run to me, Elizabeth. Always. No matter what.”

A few months later, Governor Swann called Will into his study during a visit with Elizabeth. He spoke of things like class, duty, and place.

Elizabeth became Miss Swann and Will only came back to the house for blacksmith business.

By the time he was nineteen, Will was a master of the blade, the making and using of it. He had fully taken over the blacksmith post and the town knew it, even if the high society folk did not.

He and Elizabeth rarely spoke anymore. He thought he loved her, but deep inside he knew something was missing.

Will’s first real test of sword-fighting came from a pirate. Jack Sparrow. A rogue and cad and villain—

And it was the greatest fun he could remember, that duel with Jack, the duel of word and blade.

Will won. They both know it, always have. Jack cheated—in a real, fair fight Will will always win.

After everything, after Barbossa and the curse and the near hanging—as Will said, he knows his place.

On the sea, with salty air surrounding him, the smell of the ocean filling him, the roar of the endless horizon—freedom with the Pearl—freedom with Jack.

In Port Royal he has a woman he does not love and life he will never live happily. In Port Royal he has a master for three more years and a Commodore who hates him. In Port Royal he has nothing but empty promises and unfulfilled dreams.

Will doesn’t remember much of his life before Elizabeth. And after her seems like a hazy dream because Jack is such a vibrant beacon he shines above it all.

Sometimes staring out into the waves, Will wonders how Elizabeth is. If she’s happy. If she ever found a husband she could be content with. Norrington loved her, Will knows—Norrington was a good man.

“Stop thinkin’ so hard, luv,” Jack murmurs, leaning into his back. “You’re scarin’ the fish away, the silly buggers.”

Will smiles. This is what he dreamed of, during those long nights with an aching body—the endless horizon, the scent of the ocean, a good ship beneath him, and someone who knew—understood—him.

It’s all he ever wanted.

“Bring me that horizon,” he whispers and Jack answers, “Always.”