The Devil's Temptress: The Curse of the Black Pearl || Jack Sparrow

II. Dinner

Nicolette was sat in the cabin she shared with Barbossa the next night, eyes piercing the charts spread out on the dark oak desk in front of her. They were all committed to memory by now, therefor it was no wonder that she was the ships greatest navigator. Each illustration, each previously planned heading, every charted island and rocky shore stored in her head almost as clearly as if she had designed them herself.

In her hand, she balanced a bottle of red wine, half empty. The sharp flavour was lost on her, the depth of the scent and warmth of the liquid failing to reach her gut. But with each sip she took, her lips twitched in irritation at the emptiness she felt. With her feet propped up on the desk, she was an image of relaxed frustration awaiting her husband to return from the helm.

As the burnt orange evening sun was beginning to set on the west horizon, the ship was ever so subtly sent into darkness. It wasn't unusual for her to remain in their cabin until morning, avoiding the moonlight completely and taking over her duties when the birds were still silent but dawn was breaking. But ever since that girl had been brought aboard she had been restless. Nicolette was unsure and, dare she say, curious as to what the little wild flower was planning. Something was just not quite right about her, her eyes spoke more than she did.

But upon getting too involved with her thoughts, she would shake her head rid of them and concentrate on the most important facts. They had the medallion, now nestled safely in one of Jack's hiding places, and the girl, held uncomfortably in the brig. Everything they needed to lift the curse and they were on course for the Isle De Muerta.

Nicolette should have been feeling good. She should have been feeling elated and beyond belief. But instead the excitement fluttered into nervousness and the lust for life dwindled into confusion regarding a large matter of things. No longer would she be tied to this ship, no longer would she be forced to live by these men in pain and anger, no longer would Hector have the power over her that he had held for ten years.

She could leave...she could go...

"Mrs Barbossa!" She jumped out of her thoughts violently, feet slamming against the ground as she stood and her eyes darting towards the door in an attempt to identify the interrupter through the small misted pane of glass.

"Aye!" As she called out an approval to enter, Nicolette placed the bottle of wine on the desk and walked around so she could lean back against the wood. However, her relaxed attitude stiffened when the door to the cabin opened and the two biggest idiots in the Caribbean escorted their prisoner into her home.

For a long moment, all present remained silent, the three pairs of eyes watching those of the Captains Wife which were clouded with anger. The men, who were nervous around her at the best of times, shifter their gaze to the floor when she quirked a brow and narrowed her jaw.

"May I help you gentlemen?" Her tone was deep and dark, should venom of dripped from her lip it would not have been much of a surprise to the men.

"The Captain wished for Miss Turned to dine with you both tonight." Pintel was the one nominated to speak.

In an instant, her chest grew tight with irritation. Of course he had. He had been planning this from the beginning no doubt, as soon as they had set a course to return to the Isle De Muerta. They had both avoided each other since the previous day, staying silent at the helm and one of them going below as the other attended to a duty. Neither actually new why but Nicolette put it down to her sudden mood changes. She had always been a naturally leading spirit with a strong head and a part of her already knew he was worried, no curse meant no leash.

"Did he now?" Her brow quirked as she disregarded her suspicions. "I wasn't aware such a formal occasion was taking place." Nicolette's eyes scanned the new dress the girl wore, rich in colour much similar to the wine she had been drinking. It didn't suit her at all, just like it hadn't suited his whore...The woman's name was a distant memory by now...but she remembered it somewhat suiting the choice of dress. It brought back hideous memories, ones of teasing and lust, where he would purposefully seek out those women in her presence before coming to her. Though sometimes he would not even come to her, sometimes those women were all he needed. Already those memories became so real behind her eyes by seeing the item on the young girl. Maybe that's why her dear Hector had picked it? For something which brought back such an unpleasant feeling, with it came the emotions. The ones she had been forced to swallow.