Readers;

Hello! This is my long-term attempt at writing a story that isn't just romantic fluff, with an actual plot to it. And I'm just warning you, I have little-to-no forethought to this story. I'm just writing out whatever's in my head at the moment, and daydreaming about how this story is going to proceed while I'm taking a shower, or during school. So, if you have any suggestions, it's definitely not too forward! The only thing I'm sticking on is Jack Sparrow x Elizabeth, AKA the best ship on the ship. Other than that, fire away!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, nor do I make anything off of the PotC franchise.


The prince did not like to wait.

The skyline above the Mediterranean grew dimmer and dimmer into a foggy violet, circling through colors until it rested into a fading black. The constellations above the island of Crete told stories, stories of heroes and villains and monsters and magic. But he had not a minute to dwell on such petty lore, no matter how heavy the truth hung onto it. His striking gray eyes were too busy tracing the sea for any sign of movement.

Finally, as if his urgent gaze was enough to call to it, puffy white sails reflected off the hazy half-moon into appearance. With an anxious sigh, he called out few choice words in Greek to the servants guarding the city of Heraklion. Immediately, they lit torches around the port as a signal to the approaching ship.

Soon, the massive vessel rocked into view, the title 'Circe's Vengeance' elegantly painted onto the mahogany-colored exterior. As if the ship brought the winds of Aeolus with it, a sudden gust flew at the prince, knocking the gold circlet atop his head into the inky water. He held up a hand to one of the advisors. "No worries," he assured them, "I shall ask Poseidon to return it as favor."

The prince winced as his chocolate curls whipped against his cheeks. Freezing cold waves grew higher, splashing the bottom of his robe and soaking his golden sandals. But he kept his ground, his trained eye keeping sight of the ornate ship as it carried itself to the nestle beside him. He nodded towards his men, and they went to prepare the deck for the arrival.

"Meriones," he called with a tense smile, catching the attention of the man on deck. "Dear friend, how long has it been?"

The older man leaned over the railing, squinting his eyes to the figure and then grinning with recognition. "Far too long, young prince."

Using the various windows that decorated the side of the ship, the captain slid down the woodwork, quickly shuffling his feet from ledge to ledge to mar his speed. He jumped to the deck a bit too high up, though, so when he landed he propelled a bit too far forward he ran into the prince, his hands flying to his shoulders to steady them both. But the prince just laughed, grasping the older man's shoulders as well.

"Finally, some excitement!" He exclaimed, letting the happiness run through him. But soon, the grimness returned to his bones, and his face fell once again. "Captain, I need your help."

Meriones immediately sobered, meeting his eyes with firm seriousness. "Why are you so far from Colchis, friend? What has troubled you?"

The young prince let a tight smile show through. "You have been traveling the Mediterranean for longer than I remember, captain. We call my kingdom 'Guria' now, in the country of 'Georgia'."

The man nodded, the blonde locks not restrained by a tie tickling his jaw. "It has been a few centuries since our last meeting, young prince."

"I am relieved that Circe's spell has protected you for this long. But my side of the immortality is running out."

Meriones furrowed his eyebrows, sliding his hands down to grasp the prince's biceps firmly with a small shake. "Please, proceed. What has happened?"

He lowered his head, the fire above illuminating his deeply tanned skin into frightful shadows. "The Golden Fleece has been stolen."

The captain gasped, dropping his hands as if the prince was a burning metal. "But, the dragon…?"

"The dragon guarding it has disappeared as well. Something scared it off. And whatever did, I don't want to know." He absentmindedly straightened his golden shawl on his shoulders, over the violet linen that draped down half his torso and around his waist. "But I need the Golden Fleece back. That's the only thing keeping me young. Please, Meriones. I need your help in finding it. Without it protecting everyone in the palace of Guria, we will all perish in the downfall of the kingdom and, eventually, Georgia itself. Not to mention my familial ties with Greece. My death will not come calmly, not after all of the Greek and Roman enemies alike I've made over the thousands of years. I don't want my motherland nor my kingdom to fall down parallel paths when people realize my apparent aging. Meriones, I beg of you. Do you know of anyone that can help? Anyone that knows more outside of the Mediterranean Sea, past the Strait of Gibraltar?"

The captain looked at him for a hard moment before slumping against the stone wall that overtook the Heraklion port, rubbing his dark eyes against the heel of his hand. "I am a pirate, young prince. I will help you because you are my greatest friend, but the friends I've made into the North Atlantic are not as valiant. They will demand a price, and even then there is no promise in their assistance. It's a very risky favor to ask."

The young man knelt before Meriones, taking one of his calloused hands in his own. "I am willing to pay anything for the cost of millions of lives, captain. There must be someone that can help, someone that is more trustworthy than the others."

After a long pause, the air shifted and Meriones took in a deep breath. "Perhaps… There is someone that you speak of, young prince. But I don't believe that he is… very conventional."

"Anyone," the young man pleaded. "Whoever earns even your slightest disposition is more than enough for the task. What is his name?"

Meriones averted his eyes as he spoke. "I understand your urgency, but I truly don't think…"

The prince's hands clenched tighter, still holding on to Meriones's own. "What is his name?"

The captain released the prince and stood, looking out to the sea with a tense gaze. "He has many names. Some call him Young Teague, the Pearl's Keeper, the Caribbean Lord… But there is one that his reputation clings onto the strongest."

"What is it?"

He turned his head, meeting the prince's eyes warily. "Captain Jack Sparrow."