Author: mamazano
Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW
Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash)
Pairings: None deliberately
Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine
Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.
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The Hunting of the Sparrow
Chapter 1
Setting the Trap
The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Although he was little his honour was great,
Jump up me lads and give him a treat.
Traditional
Port Royal, Jamaica – December 21st – Morning
"Everything is in place, sir."
Lord Beckett looked up from his papers as his clerk entered the room. He carefully blotted the document he'd been signing and held the sealing wax to the candle's flame, watching with satisfaction as the red wax dripped like blood upon the parchment. A fitting analogy he thought as he pressed his signet ring into the soft wax, sealing the fate of his nemesis, the notorious pirate, Jack Sparrow. A warrant for his arrest... provided he could be lured into the trap.
"And the girl?" Beckett inquired quietly. Mercer nodded and said confidently, "There will be no problem there. The boy swears she'll cooperate."
Beckett nodded his approval. "Excellent. All we have left to do now is wait."
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Tortuga Harbor – December 21st – Midday
The crew of the Black Pearl were eagerly preparing for the holidays to come, scrubbing the decks and polishing the brass. Their captain had offered them a liberal amount of coin and time ashore to celebrate in the many taverns and brothels of Tortuga. But first he wanted his ship to be in order, from stem to stern, and had set the crew to work early that morning.
While the bustle of preparation went on above decks, Captain Jack Sparrow sat alone in his cabin studying the chart in front of him. He was perhaps the only one on board ship not looking forward to Christmas. Memories he preferred would remain buried always seemed to surface this time of year, coming back to haunt him like so many ghosts. He swallowed a good portion of rum, the bottle already half empty though the sun had barely reached its zenith in the sky. Rum would not exorcise the ghosts, but would keep them at bay…temporarily.
He glanced up at the knock at the door. A young crewman, Charles Kavanagh, stood there, twisting his hat in his hands while glancing nervously around. He was new to the crew; they had picked him up off their last prize, a merchant ship out of Bristol. Irish from the look of him with a heavy brogue. He entered the cabin with trepidation, much to the captain's disconcertion.
"I don't bite," Jack told him with a wry grin. "Go ahead son, speak your mind."
The lad glanced around nervously once more and lowered his voice to barely a whisper. With his heavy brogue it was difficult to make out what he was saying…Jack caught snatches of words…sister…servant…mistreated…Beckett. At this last word Jack sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. "Beckett you say…Lord Cutler Beckett?"
The boy nodded rapidly. Jack filled a glass on the table with rum and pushed it towards the boy. "Why don't you sit down?" The lad sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, glancing around again. "No one's goin' t' get yer back, son." Jack told him gently, as he stood up and went over and shut the door to the cabin. "Now, why don't you try to explain again…slowly this time. Who or what is after your sister?"
The boy swallowed the rum gratefully and shut his eyes. Then, with great emotion he began to tell his tale.
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Beckett House – December 24th – Afternoon
Molly Kavanagh finished stripping the linens from the guest rooms in the west wing. Her day had begun before dawn when she'd been woken by the urgent hissing of her roommate and sole friend in this world, Lucy O'Sullivan.
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"Molly! Wake up Molly! He's summoned ye again!"
A quiver of dread went through Molly as she hurriedly stripped off her light shift. In the room's darkness she fumbled with the buttons on her frock as her mind tried frantically to find another reason why he would summon her in this predawn hour. Shivering from the chill of the hour and apprehension for what was sure to come she slipped into her shoes before slipping silently out the door. Lucy watched her friend as she made her way across the yard, and crossed herself, a silent prayer on her lips.
The house was quiet, the only apparent activity coming from the kitchens. Molly made her way swiftly through the silent halls, cursing the day she ever heard of Lord Cutler Beckett. She paused outside his chambers and raised her hand to knock. He opened the door, wearing only a dressing gown of the finest silk, his hair tousled from sleep. He gave the girl a small smile and waved her into the room.
She stood on the rug in the center of the room, averting her eyes from the rumpled sheets on the massive four poster bed. Her employer noted her nervousness with another small smile. He walked over and stood behind her, running his hand down her sleeve as he breathed the words into her ear.
"Do you know what day it is?" She swallowed and said hoarsely, "Christmas Eve, sir." He pressed himself against her back, she could feel his arousal through the thin fabric of her skirt. "It is customary I believe, at this time of year, for the privileged class to give a little something to their staff in appreciation for the year's labors. Is this not true?" She stood as still as she could and swallowed again. "Yes, sir. On Boxing Day, sir."
He began to slowly unbutton her bodice as he spoke the next words softly, his breath hot upon her neck. "If your brother does not fail in his mission, on Boxing Day you will be free to go. Until then, I expect you to continue to serve me as usual. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" She closed her eyes and nodded, cheeks red in shame. "Yes, milord."
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Molly finished the guest rooms and turned to go down the rear stairs towards the kitchen area. Her path took her through the hall past Lord Beckett's study. She faltered in step as she saw the door was ajar. She could hear voices from within, one the sneering cold tones of Beckett's clerk, Mercer…a man that made her blood run cold from a mere glance. She did not want to appear to be eavesdropping and turned to find another route when a name caused her to freeze in her tracks.
"The bait has been taken milord. Kavanagh was able to convince Sparrow to leave Tortuga. He should be in custody by evening."
Molly held her breath, shrinking against the wall she crept closer to hear more. Lord Beckett answered his clerk with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "Finally."