(A N)

Dedicated to quinnyandcompany for being amazing, and hilarious, and my wonderful supportive friend. Always. :)

-Crash!

"Man overboard!" Came a cry from the sea drenched deck of The Jade Serpent.

Captain Arthur Trent's heart raced along with his body as he skidded across the slick, rain- battered ship, and frantically scanned the sea for survivors. "Who went overboard?" He shouted at his men above a cacophony of thunder. A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the ship, and he could see the terror on their weather-beaten faces.

"We're not going to make it, Captain- we're taking on water!"

The men cared little for the poor fellow who had just lost his life- out on the merciless ocean, it was every man for himself.

A strong hand clamped itself down on Arthur's shoulder. He spun around, and stared into the dark features of his first mate. "Vikram-?"

Before he could say more, a blast of white hot energy hit the mast. The sailors, brave souls as they were, cried out in horror. The sky erupted in light and sound.

"We're done for- we're done for!" A man shouted hysterically, as he staggered along the deck. A huge wave broke over the ship, swallowing the sailor like an enormous sea creature.

Arthur tried to struggle forward, but Vikram's grip tightened around his shoulder. "There's nothing you can do for them, Captain!" He shouted over the gales. "We must ride this storm out...or-" He trailed off, and suddenly his eyes on Arthur's were cold, and calculating.

They stood in a far corner of the forecastle deck, and as Arthur glanced down, he noticed just how close they had come to the edge. The sea swirled in a mass of darkness below him, and waves rose in watery towers on either side of the ship, threatening to swallow it whole.

Arthur's back was against the railing now. He tried to step forward, but Vikram's grip on his shoulder held him back, paralyzing his ability to move.

"Vikram, what-?" He gasped, panic arising in his throat.

His first mate's expression was hard, and unfeeling as he steadily pushed his captain towards death.

"Why are you doing this?!" Arthur managed, struggling to free himself from the iron grip of the muscular Vikram. Arthur's hands reached for something to grasp hold of, but found only air. Nothing but the ship's rain-slick railing was keeping him from plummeting to a watery grave.

Vikram's deep amber eyes glittered with a greedy menace that Arthur had never seen before.

"Tell me where it is!" He hissed, clutching a fistful of shirt, and lifting Arthur easily up so his feet dangled perilously over the side of the ship. "Where have you hidden that bloody treasure map, Captain? I simply must know."

Arthur blinked in shock, rain sliding down his face like a thousand tears. Suddenly the shouts of men and the ferocity of the storm seemed trivial compared to the paper in his pocket.

Regret crashed over him. He should have left the precious parchment in the cabin- or better yet, back where it belonged, in a secret cave deep in the jungle.

But the allure of treasure had been strong... What pirate could resist it?

Apparently not Vikram.

"I- I don't know what you're-"

Vikram's face turned to stone, "Tell me." He whispered in Arthur's ear. "Tell me, or I will obliterate everything and everyone you love, starting with that hideous witch of a wife of yours."

Arthur struggled to maintain a calm expression, although his hands tightened into hard, furious fists. No one insulted Hope.

He shoved Vikram back with all his might, and delivered a powerful uppercut to the first mate's treacherous jaw.

Vikram staggered back, surprise and shock etched in his tan features, and Arthur let out a breath of triumph. He flexed his muscles, and charged.

At the last possible second, Vikram turned toreador and leaped sideways, just as the ship groaned, and titled sharply to one side. Arthur, propelled by momentum, teetered and slid along the sloping deck. He waved his arms in a desperate attempt to regain balance, but it was too late.

Crash! He slammed into the railing, toppling over it head-first.

For one heart stopping moment, he was staring right into the mouth of death, then everything came to a jerking stop. Arthur nearly sobbed in relief. His right leg had, as he fell, caught in the rigging. He twisted around, and grabbed the rope ladder, freeing his foot. Arthur hung, legs dangling perilously above the sea, while blinding rain battered him, and fierce winds fought to tear his weak grip from the ropes.

Vikram, recovered from his shock at Arthur's attack, strolled over with a cold, satisfied smirk, and knelt beside the captain, enjoying his panicked struggle.

Already Arthur's fingers were beginning to ache in protest against the full, straining, weight of his body. He tried to clamber up the rigging, but in the effort, his feet slipped dangerously, and one finger lost its grip.

"Help me!" He shouted, hoping someone would come to his aid, but the storm took his voice, and tossed it away. There was no one coming, he realized. No one but Vikram was able to hear his cries; the men were all too busy trying to save themselves.

"Do you give up?" Vikram asked.

Arthur's fingers were rubbing raw against the rough rope, but the man's cool, mocking words sent anger shooting through his system, giving him renewed strength.

"I don't play games with those who would murder me!"

Finding a hidden reserve of strength, he managed to let go of the rope with a hand, and slowly pull himself up, rung by rung.

I can't let him have my half of the map. He thought desperately, even as he climbed towards the first mate.

When Arthur had first found the treasure map, his wife, Hope, had convinced him that carrying all of it would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Instead, he had memorized the second half's contents which contained the treasure's location, and destroyed them. Later, the contents were etched in a locket which Hope wore around her neck. If Vikram ever traced Arthur's half back to her...

'Oomph!'

Arthur's reverie was gone when a rough hand grabbed his water-logged shirt, and dragged him up, and over the side of the ship.

Without warning, Vikram began rummaging in Arthur's pockets, tossing out his pipe, and compass. Then his hand closed around the locket containing a painting of Hope. Vikram's eyes glittered, as he pressed the latch, and the frame flew open, revealing Hope's lovely face.

"A pity her husband had to die." Vikram said, his tone sinister. "The poor dear will be all alone...but not for long. She's a sturdy looking wench, I'm sure she'd do well as a maid in my household."

Normally mild mannered, Arthur felt a surge of pure fury course through his body. He growled, and lunged at the evil man, determined to choke the very life from his throat.

That's when the cold metal of a knife savagely plunged into his gut. Face impassive,Vikram pulled the weapon out of his captain, with a sickening squelch.

Arthur gasped, and staggered back in shock, clutching his stomach. Blood poured between his numb fingers, and mixed with the rain, collecting in sickening pools at his feet.

His enemy circled him, knife in hand, like a snake preparing to strike down its victim.

"You...cheated." Arthur said, shock quieting his voice. He tried to lunge forward again, but his mind was dimming around the corners, and everything seemed to be turning in strange, dizzying circles overhead.

Vikram fingered the locket in his hand- any minute now he would discover the hidden compartment holding the map.

"I'm a bloody pirate, remember? At any rate, I'm certainly more fit than you to rule these waters." Vikram's thumb caught on the locket's cleverly concealed latch. His smile was gleeful, like a child opening a gift.

"Ah ha."

"No!" Arthur summoned up a last ounce of strength from the recesses of his brain, and knocked the locket out of Vikram's grasp.

With a grace that belied the storm raging around it, the locket flew through the air. It could have landed anywhere- at this point, Arthur would be glad if it fell into the sea below, at least then he could be certain that there was no way Vikram would be able to use it against him.

Arthur breathed a premature sigh of relief that quickly morphed into a hacking, blood- choked cough.

Vikram leaped over obstacles, and sprinted desperately across the deck, trying to catch the precious locket before it was lost to the ocean.

Breathing was becoming more and more difficult for Arthur, it blocked out all thoughts, sending the mighty pirate captain thudding to his knees.

Through a disorienting haze caused by blood-loss, his mind managed to fixate on a single thought.

Air.

Each beat of his pulse sent more precious liquid shooting from his wound. Panic rose inside Arthur- already he could feel his lungs filling, choking off his life supply of oxygen.

His mind flashed to his wife, all alone with a child on the way- he couldn't die, not like this. Arthur envisioned his triumphant return home, as he had so many times:

He would be smiling, and lugging a bag of treasure over his shoulder. Hope would spot him, and run full speed until he swept her, laughing and crying, into his arms.

"Well, it's about time you came home." She'd whisper through her tears. "Oh, Arthur I've missed you so much!"

A salty tear ran down Arthur's own cheek. Was he never to see his loving wife again? Never to feel such a wondrous sense of joy as her held her tight in his arms? Never to see his children grow up?

"What have we here?" Vikram cackled, dangling the retrieved locket above Arthur, who had collapsed to the ground, too weak to maintain a sitting position.

"The captain fancies taking a nap while his sailors fight to ride out this storm?" He shook his head in mock admonishment. "Tsk, tsk. Bad form, Sir. Very bad form."

Arthur knew he was dying now- there was no way around it- his body was failing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Vikram looped the chain of the locket around his neck, his expression that of smug confidence.

"A pity that the captain has to poor crew will be lost without a leader." He snapped his fingers as if a great thought had suddenly come upon him. "They'll have to have a new captain- and the first mate would be a logical choice, don't you think? Why, that's me!"

Arthur's eyes widened in horror. "N-no." He gurgled, struggling to stand.

Vikram laughed, and kicked at his fallen enemy. "You were wrong, Captain...we were playing a game, and I've just won."

Arthur flopped onto the deck, face turned toward the torrent above.

Once more his wife's face wobbled in his vision, but now he saw her desperately trying to fight off Vikram, while a child wailed in the background.

I'm so sorry, Hope...So sorry...

And then, with one final breath, Arthur Trent's brave spirit left his body, and he was gone.

Vikram Kabra's estate one week later:

"Quit cooing over the boy, Isabel, I can feel a headache coming on from that incessant noise."

Isabel's amber eyes flashed with obvious annoyance. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, with my own child, Vikram, I am not your servant."

Vikram smiled coldly, his eyes void of feeling. "You are my wife, Dearest. Remember who pays for your room and board." The threat hung menacingly in the air, circling the room like a shadowy spirit.

Isabel- not concerned in the least- pouted, and turned her attention to the tiny infant in her arms.

"Who's father is a terrible, evil man?" She cooed to the little boy, ignoring Vikram's rising temper, entirely. "Your father, that's who."

Vikram balled his hands into fists. "I'm going out." He said crisply, unable to withstand the hot, stuffy room, and his wife's disrespect a moment longer.

At sea, he was one of the most feared pirates ever to rule the caribbean- second only to Blackbeard himself- but back on land, his spoilt wife insolently mocked his power.

Sometimes, he wondered why he hadn't killed Isabel off already- but after all, she had just given him his first son. Besides, she was the most gorgeous, treacherous, spirited woman he had ever laid eyes on. It was rumored amongst the townspeople that she had mer blood flowing in her veins. It wasn't every day you found a wife like that.

He turned to leave, and nearly tripped over a shriveled ancient-looking crone who stood in his path.

Shocked, he muttered a curse, and backed up. Behind him, he heard his wife gasp, and knew that she too, had noticed the strange old hag standing casually in the middle of their bedroom.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Isabel demanded loudly, pulling her infant in closer to her breast.

The old woman licked her cracked lips, and surveyed the startled group with her one beady blue eye.

"Might I sit down?" She croaked, swaying slightly as she leaned heavily against her walking stick.

"Go away, you old troll!" Isabel threw a pillow at the woman. It landed with a soft thud at the crone's withered feet. With careful deliberation, she stooped and snatched it up in her gnarled hook of a hand.

"Thank you for your hospitality." She said wryly, easing herself down on top of the pillow.

Vikram cleared his throat. "Who are you, Hag? Our doors and windows are locked- how did you get past the servants?"

The wrinkles in her baggy face deepened in a frown. "I'm your elder- in my day that earned a body a little respect. As to how I got here, why should you care? I'm here now, that's where your concern should lay."

Isabel laughed, a light tinkling sound. "Are you implying that we should be afraid of an old crone? Are you going to attack us with your little stick, hmm?"

The old woman smiled, revealing a wide row of teeth in various stages of decay. "I wouldn't laugh, if I were you."

Isabel shuddered. "Thank goodness I'm not you- what a horrible thing that would be."

Vikram glared, first at his wife, then at the odd, withered stranger who had had the audacity to invade his house.

"I am a powerful man, Woman. I give you exactly two minutes to explain your conduct, before I lose my patience." His hand went meaningfully to his belt where a knife in sheath hung menacingly.

The stranger waved a hand, dismissively. "Oh, go ahead and kill me, I don't mind. But before you do, know this."

Her eye began glowing, a pulsing shade of blue that was so bright the Kabras were forced to look away.

"Witch!" Isabel cried, holding tightly to the now squalling infant in her arms. "Kill the demon!"

"You are so foolish." The old woman said, shaking her head as she made her way slowly towards the bed on which Isabel lay.

"Get away from me!" Isabel commanded. She pulled a gun from under her pillow, and brandished it, sinisterly.

The stranger waved her hands, and Isabel's body froze mid-movement, her amber eyes remaining open, in shock.

Vikram drew a sharp breath, and reached for the knife in his belt.

The woman ignored him, and placed her trembling hands on the baby's tiny head, encircling his body in radiating, blue light. The boy's eyes fluttered and shut; he lay still, as if already claimed by death.

Vikram let out a bellow of rage, and threw his knife at the crone. The deadly weapon glinted in mid-flight as it shot through the air, heading directly for her glowing head.

Vikram allowed a small smile to cross his face; the witch-or whoever she was-should have known better than to oppose a Kabra. Now, that ignorance would be the end of her.

The knife reached its target, but instead of the body toppling over, the knife bounced off the woman as if there was an invisible wall surrounding her, and dropped to the ground with a thunk.

He staggered back in dismay. Fear curled around the large pirate like tendrils of smoke. What was this evil magic?

"You are a murderer." The women droned, pointing an accusatory finger at his heart. "You killed your enemy in cold blood, and for that, punishment must be paid."

"Oh, please," Vikram scoffed, once again regaining his Kabra bravado. "How can you accuse me for that? I'm a pirate, I've killed many men. You cannot punish a man for acting on his natural instincts."

While they were speaking, he inched stealthily forwards. Perhaps, if he strangled the hag, his son would be released from her power.

She shook her head, sadly. "You are right- it is too late for you. Your heart cannot be softened towards anyone, Vikram...not at this time, anyway."

Vikram frowned in confusion and irritation. "How do you know my-?"

"Your name? I know everyone's names. Names are special, they hold our very essence. Without them, we can never truly be ourselves." She sighed, "I don't like doing this, but..."

Her eyes closed, and she began to speak in a multitude of voices. "The son must carry the punishment meant for the father. I, Genna of Halfcrest Mountain, remove this child's name from your memory, and give it to the firstborn child of your enemy. He shall never be the boy you knew until the evil you committed has been reconciled."

And with that, the woman vanished, faster than Vikram could blink.

Behind him, Isabel heaved a huge breath like she had just emerged from underwater. "What happened, Vikram?"

He turned, and saw the wild look in his wife's amber eyes. She was scared, possibly for the first time in her life. She stared down at the child in her lap. "It's alright, _ that terrible hag is gone. She can't bother you anymore."

Isabel frowned, and tried again to form the boy's name, to no avail.

Vikram felt a panicked lump form in his throat. He tried to speak the name of the young Kabra, but the words twisted in his mouth, and already the knowledge seemed to be slipping away.

"Why can't I remember our son's name?" Isabel demanded, sharply, voicing the question arising in them both. Then her eyes grew wide as realization caught up to her. "It was that witch of a woman! She cursed us!"

Vikram's eyes focused on the squalling babe, but he could not place a name with its tiny face.

The knowledge was simply gone.