~15 years later~

The water was warm around her legs, the deep pools of the island enchanting. It was the closest thing to paradise that she had come by. The island she stayed on, or rather lived, was large, large enough to sustain life, but small enough to stay under the radar of passing ships.

The pools that she had grown so accustomed to were her caretakers home, and it only made sense to have her acquainted with them as well.

The pools were scattered around the island, some reaching to the ocean, others simply connecting to each other, creating an underwater tunnel of sorts. Most of the island was covered in trees, high trees that seemed to reach to the sky, their branches creating a roof above her head, the patches of sunlight that managed to shine through heated the surface of the pools.

Then there were the mountains.

She had been forbidden to climb them, but she did anyway, as any child would. They panned across the north side of the island, forming what almost felt like a wall. They reached high above the trees below and the air grew cooler as she climbed.

Not that she would know.

The very edges of the island were covered in a soft, fine, white sand. The seas washed ashore, causing shells and other treasures to wash on the wet sand, waiting for her to find them.

There was one time, a very memorable time when she was younger and she was still growing accustomed to the island and its wildlife, she had fled from, what had seemed at the time, a ravenous beast.

It had, upon further inspection, turned out to be a rat.

She had fled to the shore, wading into the waters of the Caribbean when she found an empty bottle.

It was intact but filled with salty sea water to the brim and barely floating. She had emptied it out and filled it with the fresh water from the pools. And she still had it, tucked under her belt, and used it ever since.

The clothes that she wore, were her mothers, at least that was what she was told. There was a pair of boots, long since torn in several places, and repaired all the same. There were the leather pants, a bit loose on her, but they fit comfortably and allowed her to move freely. Whether it was climbing trees, running through the undergrowth that was laid across the island floor, or climbing as high as she dared on the mountains.

Then there was the shirt. It was tightly fitting, at least, it had been for her mother, everything she owned of hers, which wasn't much, was always a bit too big. But it didn't matter to her, as long as she had something that reminded her of the life she could've had.

Her caretakers told her that her mother lived for a short while on the island, sustaining off the wildlife.

Until she gave birth.

She lived through it and managed to live for a handful of years before leaving her only child alone, and in the care of mermaids. She had very few memories of her mother, and only one imparticular' shone through the others. 

It was when she was young, so young she was shocked that she remembered it at all, she was climbing the mountains. Finding a small outlet of rock to sit on, she had watched her mother search the island, north to south, for her.

 To no avail, until she had decided she had enough of silently laughing at her mother from above and climbed down. The mermaids had found her first, and by complete accident. She had begun to climb down, and stepping on what looked like a study piece of rock, had slipped, leaving her hanging by her left hand.

Had she not fallen into one of the deep pools below, she would've died.

But she fell instead, landing with a hard slap onto the surface of the pool. It knocked her out momentarily, and the next thing she knew, she was drifting downward, closer to the ocean bottom, the pressure building with every foot. She had tried to swim upward, but her limbs had refused to obey her, and such, she could do nothing except watch the sunlight above her dim slowly.

Until that is, she felt a strong but gentle pair of arms life her up, towards the glittering surface. Anden there were more hands, pushing her upward through the water. And eventually, she broke the surface, gasping for breath.

She had crawled onto the grass aside the pool, drenched.

Her mother, at the time, was on the opposite side of the island, looking for her, and while waiting she felt the gentle hands of the mermaids on her back, aiding her in whatever way they could until Angelica showed up once again.

It was funny, remembering her mother and her rants, almost always in Spanish.

Her mother had loved her as any child would, she knew that even if she was long dead. There was one conversation that she remembered over and over again, one that always seemed to put her mother in a bad mood. 

She had participated in more than once, and more than once, had it caused her mother to leave, whether she was ranting in Spanish, or simply staring off into the distance.

~Years Ago~

"Mama?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Where's dada?" She sighed, took a deep breath, and looked out to the ocean, as they were sitting on the white sand.

"Dada isn't here darling."

" I know mama, where is he?" She would ask this question over and over again, pestering her until she walked away. And then she would find her again. And ask, again.

"Dada is on a ship, a pirate ship."

"Dada is a pirate?!" She sighed, and it seemed, that almost against her will, she smiled slightly, but then it turned into a snarl. And then Temperance, being a little child, would stand up gleefully, snatch up a piece of driftwood, and hold it as though it was a sword.

"I'm a pirate! Ya!" She jabbed the piece of wood as though stabbing an invisible enemy, then swinging back to her mother.

"Look mama! I'm a pirate! Ha YA!" Then she would jab the wood at her mother, as though she was gutting her like a fish. Angelica would laugh and walk over, holding her hand out. Temperance would look confused, before handing her the wood with a look of glee written across her face.

"Hold it like this." Angelica would say, holding it as her own father had taught her.

"And swing," She swung in a perfect arch, "Like this."

Temperance, without the need to be asked twice, snatched the wood from her mother's hands and performed the acts as Angelica had done.

"Does Dada know how to do this?"

"Yes darling, he does."

"Whats Dada's name mama?" She hesitated, but perhaps it was time. After years of hiding it from her, she suspected she couldn't hold it from her any longer. So lifting her daughter in the air, and dropping the driftwood, she headed toward the jungle once again.

"Jack Sparrow." It was a whisper, but she caught it and seemed to hold onto it for dear life as she gazed out into the ocean blue. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the trees she had long since called home, she thought about her mother, and rage, unexpected and boiling rose to the surface of her skin.  

Jack Sparrow, captain or not, would pay. He had caused her mother's death and seeing as he had almost caused her's, she felt responsible for seeking out revenge. To seek out vengeance. For her long since dead mother, for leaving them both on the accursed island, for nearly killing her.

Jack Sparrow, father or not, would die. She swore to it. 

BOOM! 2nd chapter! I'm so thrilled! THANK YOU ALL! YOU MEAN THE WORLD!!! <3 <3