"He saw strength, confidence, wit, passion, freedom. He saw what she really was: everything he feared and everything he loved."
Love and betrayal. Ten years after the mutiny, captain Jack Sparrow wasn't expecting to see her again.
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Where the road then takes me, I cannot tell.
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It had been two years. Narissa Barbossa -now twenty years old- had almost gotten used to the life in Port Royal. A new life with a new last name. Once again, she was alone at a town she didn't know. Her heart felt heavy and her days were sad, and not only because of the loneliness. She felt so guilty. In fact, she was guilty.
It was too much to deal with. The heartache of Jack most likely being dead. The fact that it was her fault for tricking him. The memory of his eyes staring at her miserably before jumping into the water and swimming towards the island. The disappointment of her father using her for his own goals.
Her father, Hector Barbossa, as well as his crew, had been cursed by the Aztec treasure they stole. They could not die, but they could not feel either, and the moonlight showed their true form: only skeletons roaming eternally, never getting enough to satisfy their hunger and their thirst. Narissa had been lucky, she had not taken a single coin; she had decided not to be part of it and so she remained uncursed while the crew suffered the punishment for their greed.
She used to admire her father; he may not have been the most honest of men, but he was brave and smart, and he cared for her. Everything she knew, everything she loved, she learned it from him. But she couldn't be part of his crew after what he did to Jack. He wasn't her father anymore. Thus she left him and traveled to one of the only places where no pirate would ever dare to go: Port Royal. She hid her sword under her bed, thinking that she would never need it again, she changed her trousers for a modest dress and chose a fake last name: Murphy.
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One morning, at the market of Port Royal, Narissa heard yells coming from the baker's shop. Some people walked by, their curious eyes and ears settling on the scene for some seconds before they left. When she approached, the woman found the baker shouting at a young boy. He couldn't be older than twelve. His head hanged low, staring at his feet nervously to avoid looking at the angry man who was scolding him for stealing a loaf of bread.
Narissa noticed the child's dirty ripped clothes, his thin face looked sick and his sad brown eyes screamed for help. She knew a kid wouldn't steal food unless he really needed it and, apparently, this one was in great need. The problem with this town, as with many others, is that a few people had huge amounts of money and owned all kind of luxuries, while a great part of the population struggled to eat and have a roof above their heads. There was no in between.
Walking into the shop with no hesitation, Narissa stood in front of the man, who was about to slap the boy. "Stop it! I'll pay for it!"
