(Note this is an AU story. I mostly changed things for ages made some characters younger and others older ;) )
The first thing he felt was motion.
Not the gentle rise and fall of breath something deeper, heavier. A slow, rhythmic sway, as if the world itself were breathing.
The second thing he noticed was sound.
Waves slapping against wood. A distant creak. The flutter of canvas in the wind.
The third was the smell salt, tar, and the faint bite of rum.
When his eyes opened, the ceiling above him was made of varnished timber. The walls curved slightly inward, lined with brass fixtures and hanging lanterns. He wasn't in his apartment. He wasn't even in his century.
He sat up, confused. His hands were small. His shirt—white, ruffled, and far too old-fashioned—hung loosely on his tiny frame.
A mirror on the far wall caught his attention. He stumbled toward it, bare feet silent on the wooden floor.
The reflection staring back at him was that of a boy six years old, with soft brown hair, pale skin, and eyes so blue they could drown the sky.
"What the hell…" he whispered and froze.
Even his voice was a child's.
A knock startled him. The cabin door swung open, revealing a man in crisp naval blue.
"Master Edward, your father requests your presence on deck," said the sailor with a polite bow. "He wishes you and your sister to see the islands on the horizon."
"My… father?" he echoed.
The sailor blinked. "Governor Swann, sir. You're bound for Port Royal, if you'll recall."
The door shut behind him. Edward stood there in silence, his young heart pounding like a drum.
Governor Swann.
Port Royal.
Sister.
The words collided in his head like cannonballs until a single, terrifying, impossible thought formed.
He darted to the small porthole, peering out at the endless sea. A Royal Navy ship cut through the Caribbean waves, white sails gleaming beneath a golden sky.
And suddenly, it all clicked.
He'd died watching Pirates of the Caribbean.
And now… he was in it.
He found his way to the main deck moments later, blinking in the sunlight. Sailors moved briskly about, ropes coiling and flags snapping in the wind. The smell of the ocean hit him fresh, alive, intoxicating.
Standing by the rail was a small girl in a pale dress, her golden hair tied back with a ribbon. She was maybe four years old, clutching a small parasol and staring at the horizon with wonder.
"Edward! Look!" she cried. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Elizabeth.
The name echoed through his mind like thunder. His throat tightened. Somehow, impossibly, his favorite movie's heroine one of the kindest and bravest women he'd ever watched was now his little sister.
And she was looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes.
He smiled softly. "Aye, Lizzie," he said, slipping into a voice that felt far too natural. "It's the most beautiful thing in the world."
Her grin widened, and she turned back to the waves.
He followed her gaze and froze.
Smoke.
Far off in the distance, black smoke coiled against the morning sky.
The Dauntless shifted course, and shouts rang across the deck.
"Shipwreck off the port bow!"
"Lifeboat in the water!"
Edward's heart skipped. He knew this scene. Every word, every beat. This was the beginning of The Curse of the Black Pearl.
The sailors hauled up a small boy from the wreckage dark hair, soot-streaked face, a broken chain dangling from his neck.
Will Turner.
Edward stood there, numb. The medallion. The curse. Jack Sparrow. Barbossa. The undead.
He was at the very start of it all.
That night, after the commotion settled and Elizabeth slept soundly in her cabin, Edward stood alone at the ship's railing. The stars shimmered across the black water like shattered glass.
He looked down at his small hands, flexing his fingers slowly.
I really am here, he thought. In their world.
He could almost hear Jack Sparrow's voice in the wind lazy, amused, echoing across the sea:
"The problem isn't the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem."
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Guess you're right, Captain," he murmured to the waves. "Might as well make the best of it."
He didn't have magic, strength, or power. But he had something else a mind full of knowledge about what was coming.
And one very clear goal.
He turned to glance toward Elizabeth's cabin.
"I'll protect you, Lizzie," he whispered. "Whatever it takes."
The wind carried his promise out to sea.
For now, he was just a boy on a ship bound for a new home.
But one day, he would command his own vessel not as the Governor's son, but as a pirate who sailed where no law could touch him.
Thus began the tale of Edward Swann the boy who would become the Pirate Prince of Port Royal.