Disclaimer:

I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters from it. Credit goes to Disney and those that worked hard to write the original films and create the characters.

Author's Note:

I write canon/OC a lot, so that's pretty much the only inspiration/prompt that I had. My first fanfiction for Pirates of the Caribbean, the prologue here is just me testing the waters a bit and establishing the meeting and basic relationship of Will and my OC, as well as showing you a little glimpse of what she's like and who she is, but it will eventually turn into a story that covers all of the films. Maybe, we'll see how it goes. Keep in mind that the romance is rather slow-burning. It'll take a little while before we get there.
Some eventual Sparrabeth (Jack/Elizabeth), but I'm not sure how I'll do that yet. I want that to be on the side, in any case, but still acknowledged and developed in some way. There's no Willabeth in the story, except in what covers the first movie.

If any of my followers who followed me for my Harry Potter story, I promise that I'm still working on it, I just need a little break from it.

Hope whoever reads this enjoys. Any feedback is appreciated.


Prologue

Eight-year-old Theodosia Brown sat up on her knees on one of the creaky, worn wooden chairs in her grandfather's workshop. She sharpened the quill she was using and dipped it in the bottle of ink, setting it to the slightly torn scrap of parchment and beginning to scribble something to the pages. The only light she had was from a few candles and the fire that her grandfather had lit to do about ten minutes worth of work before he passed out.

Her grandfather let out a loud snore and Theodosia jumped, rocking a bit in the unsteady chair as she quickly turned around to check on him. She knew very well that she was not to waste ink and parchment with her 'incoherent' writings and 'hideous' drawings, which is why she only ever wrote or drew when her grandfather was unconscious from his latest alcoholic indulgence or he wasn't at home or at the workshop with her.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to wake up, she added the finishing words for the short she had written and then quietly hopped out of the chair, collecting the scrap and walking over to one end of the workshop, pulling out a loose, hollow brick by the fireplace. Theodosia then removed a worn leather binder, untying the rope she had used to keep it closed in case the binding she had made for the spine ever came loose.

Making sure that she was careful and none of the papers from her previous writings and drawings fell out, she placed her now most recent work into the binder on one specific side (she kept her drawings on one side and her writing on another), securing it and then returning the binder to its brick, placing the brick back where it belonged, safe and unknown. Her grandfather would never find it.


It was a chilly morning when the scrawny boy, only of the age of ten, showed up at the smithy. Theodosia had been helping in the workshop with her grandfather, who was awake and somewhat sober for the first time in years. He did very little work that day, aside from ordering his granddaughter about, however it ceased when the boy showed up.

The door to the shop was open that day, allowing for a chilly breeze to enter the workshop. Theodosia was barefoot in spite of her grandfather's semi-concerned protests, finding it easier to move around, even if it was uncomfortable and cold. She wore her father's — sort of — tattered old clothes that she found and had tailored to fit her, that way she could work and not have to worry about her dress getting caught on anything. The only hinderance now was her dark brown hair, which continued to fall in her face no matter how many times she tied it up.

There was a knock on the door frame, even though the door was open. Theodosia turned around and in the doorway there stood a tall, scrawny boy. He was a little pale, and his black hair was a little long and messy with the slightest curl to it. He noticed her first and stepped inside the shop, "I'm Will Turner, I was told that I might find work here?"

Theodosia tilted her head to one side curiosuly, replying softly, "You'd be looking for my grandfather, then…" She turned her head over to where her grandfather was sitting, slumped over and passed out once again. So that's why all the noise he had been making stopped. Frustrated, she hissed under her breath, "Oh, not again!" and marched over to his chair, giving him a nudge to wake him up. When that didn't work, Theodosia took the almost empty bottle from his hands and was about to splash it into his face when he finally woke.

"Th'dosia, whatchya think yer doin'!? I've told yeh not to —" he slurred, but broke off when Theodosia cleared her throat and gestured to Will Turner, who was standing awkwardly in the same place she had left him. Squinting, he sat up and snatched the bottle from Theodosia's hands and setting it on a stool as he walked past and over to Will. "Yes? What do ye need from me?"

"Oh, well, my name is Will Turner, sir. Are you, er —" he glanced at a paper in his hand "— are you Mr. J. Brown?"

"Yes, tha's me," he replied gruffly. "It still don't answer my question, boy. What do ye need?"

"Well, I was told you would be able to offer me work," Will told him. "You see, I've just been brought to Port Royal, and…I hadn't intended to stay for very long, but I haven't the means to afford passage on a ship and the ship that I was on was…destroyed. I just need work until I can get a bit of money saved to —"

"If ye wanna work for me, then ye gonna have ta promise that ye ain't gonna go runnin' off firs' chance ye get," the drunken blacksmith snapped, and began to stagger away. Theodosia glanced from her grandfather to Will, eyes lingering sympathetically on the boy. Her grandfather seized her arm and pulled her over to Will, keeping his hand fastened around her wrist, "She's the only help I've got here in this shop, and look at her! Lotta good she's been 'round here. Ye wanna work, then ye gonna have to stay." He let go of Theodosia's wrist and the eight year old crossed her arms and put on an annoyed expression.

"Okay," Will said after a short pause, and both Theodosia and her grandfather looked at him in surprise. "I'll stay. I need the work."

"Very well, then," Theodosia watched her grandfather hobble over to Will, who was almost the same height as his new employer. "I'm gonna have ta teach ye the basics, of course, but ye can start work immediately."

"Brilliant," Will answered and a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. He looked to Theodosia and smiled in a friendly, comforting sort of way. Theodosia gave an awkward half-smile in response, having had few interactions with children near her own age, either helping out with her grandfather or being too shy to approach them and introduce herself.

But she had the feeling that he was going to be around quite often, and she had plenty of time to get to know him.


"What are you writing now, Thea?" Will asked as he peered curiously over Theodosia's shoulder to see what she was writing as he polished what would be the handle for a new sword. Theodosia, now fourteen years of age, had continued writing and drawing whenever her grandfather wasn't around. Will had come across the loose brick and her binding of writings and artwork only a few weeks after he had first started as an apprentice, and he had been kind enough to keep her secret when she had asked him to. "Is it a continuation of the last article you were working on?"

Theodosia had started writing mock articles as if she was writing for a newspaper. Now that she wasn't eight years old and helping her drunk grandfather, she had plenty of time to explore and learn interesting stories about those that lived in Port Royal (mostly by way of eavesdropping and sneaking around after dark). She even once asked Will for help, asking him to pretend to be witness to a terrible crime so she could ask him to describe what had happened, or rather what he had seen. Although he was initially hesitant, claiming that his acting was rubbish, he eventually caved in and — exasperated — did his best to answer her questions while he worked.

She adjusted herself in her seat to turn and look at her friend, a smile playing at her lips, "Actually, no. I'm working on part of a novel I want to write someday. It's going to be wonderful — and I'll even make some illustrations for it!"

"Speaking of illustrations, where did you put that drawing you made?" Will asked her, setting the handle down and moving aside some tools to look for it. When she didn't respond, he looked back to see the confused expression that she was wearing, silently asking him which drawing he was referring to. "The one of what this sword is supposed to look like? I need to double check it and start to work on adding the finer details."

"Oh, of course." Theodosia slid the chair back and stood up, walking over to the fireplace. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the shelf that had been put above the mantel. Pushing aside an old branding iron, she felt around until she found the folded piece of paper that she had put up there to hide. Theodosia pulled it off of the shelf and brought it over to Will. "Here you go."

"Perfect, thanks," he said as he took the paper. Theodosia gave a nod and returned to where she had been sitting. Will's brown eyes narrowed on it and he examined it, squinting slightly. "Er, Thea...I — I don't remember it looking quite like this…did you paint it?"

Theodosia looked up from where she had begun to gather up her papers from that day, figuring that her grandfather would be back from the bar soon enough and the only time he ever supported her writing or drawing was when it was of some benefit to him, which was almost never. As she walked over to the loose brick and pulled it out, she replied to Will, "Yes, actually. I did it a day or two ago. The colors didn't turn out too dull, did they? In your honest opinion?"

"Hmm…not really, although I think the gold on the handle could've been a bit more noticeable," Will told her, sitting the drawing where he could see it while he worked. He had been Theodosia's art critic for some time, ever since he found out about her talents. Always there to offer her construction criticism whenever she asked, although she had to teach him about art and writing before he full understood.

"I tried my best, but no matter what I did, it just wouldn't work." She slid the brick back and place and dusted off her hands, standing beside Will and tilting her head to the side to examine her drawing in better light, her arms crossed and her lips pursed.

Will looked over at her and then back at the drawing, "Where did you get the paint?"

"I made it," she chirped, straightening up as she was rather proud of herself.

He raised an eyebrow and pointed at the drawing, "You made the paints? Yourself? You didn't buy any of it?" It sounded to Theodosia as if he was a bit suspicious of her.

"The only thing I bought was an extra bottle of ink so that I could experiment a bit. The rest of it I collected from around the island — pollen, honey, flower petals, seashells. And since I was at the beach to get most of those things, I found an old bottle and used some sea water, too," Theodosia explained, and although Will didn't ask for much more, she started — as he had expected — to ramble on about the whole process of her paint making. "I crushed the shells and petals up and mixed in the honey and ink for some stickiness. Don't worry, none of the flowers were poisonous…I think."

Will listened to her as he began to carefully lay in some gold on the edges of the handle. He didn't mind too much, finding that whenever she talked then it was best to listen. She kept quiet when her grandfather was around and awake, so when he wasn't around or was asleep, she seized the opportunity and began to talk as if it had all been building up inside her like she was holding her breath in and finally had a chance to let it all out. So she talked whenever she could to Will or to herself, or even to the donkey, Bartholomew (of which was particularly fond of Will and Will fond of him).

So the two friends carried out their conversation, stopping only when Mr. Brown came staggering inside the shop, over to his chair. They waited until he had passed out before they exchanged flustered looks and returned to their talking. The day ended with Will advising Theodosia not to disturb her grandfather or do anything to bother him. She ignored him, and used some of her leftover home-made paints to dye Mr. Brown's beard. Will rolled his eyes and took her for a walk, figuring that she'd been cooped up inside too long and that was the reason for her recklessness. Actually, he doubted it was. Maybe she just liked annoying people that she didn't like, and come to think of it, who doesn't from time to time?