Disclaimer: I only own one Marina Sparrow. Teague, Jack, and all other recognizable elements of this story belong to Disney.
Author's Note: This idea should be credited to both myself and Obi's Second Cousin. We were RPing together and soon created the plot that led to Obi's Puck of the Caribbean stories, which I really recommend to anyone who is reading this. A part of this story idea involved who Jack's mother was.
I thought it over and decided that it made sense for Jack's mother to be a mermaid. After all, Jack is one of—if not the best—swimmers in the series in a time when swimming just wasn't that common of an activity, even among sailors. Then there's his past affair with Calypso, and then the mermaids in On Stranger Tides were just so kickass that I had to create a mermaid OC. And so Marina Sparrow was born. She will be the star of several one shots in the near future, so I hope you enjoy this!
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Captain Edward Teague sat in the dark of his cabin, not bothering to light any of the candles as he stared at nothing in particular. Several empty rum bottles littered the floor of the cabin, and several more that were waiting to be emptied were standing in proud ranks on the table before him. By now, Teague's head had begun to buzz pleasantly. He could almost forget how miserable he truly was. Almost. The pain was still there, just waiting for when he was no longer drunk to strike at him. Not that Teague would stop it from doing so. At the moment, while he was fighting the pain with rum, he was also longing for something to remind him of what he had just lost.
That reminder was sooner in coming than he had thought it would be.
"Da?" a tiny voice said, coming from the doorway to Teague's cabin. The owner of that voice was a small boy, barely four years old, with unruly dark hair and large brown eyes that stared up at Teague with such innocence that it broke the rough pirate's heart to see.
Standing unsteadily—damn rum—Teague made his way towards the small boy and crouched down to look him in the eye. "Wha' is it, Jackie?" he asked, the alcohol pumping through his blood making him slur more than he usually did.
The tiny boy looked up at Teague with large, tear-filled eyes. "Had a nigh'mare, Da," he said with that innocence all children, even pirate children, possessed.
Of course…of course. The boy's mother had just died, after all. Naturally he was having bad dreams as a result of that. Pushing aside his own pain for a moment, Teague scooped up his son, holding him close and stumbling back to his chair, softly rubbing the boy's back. He was so small, Teague thought to himself, and so very sweet. If he wasn't careful, Teague was going to be in great danger of spoiling the child. That was simply unacceptable. But for now, the boy deserved a little spoiling. At least until the night terrors began to fade.
Teague frowned as he stared at the painting over the table that stood in front of him, bolted to the floor of the cabin to prevent it sliding around with the rolling waves. It was a portrait of a happy family, done three years ago when Jack was but a babe. Standing together were Teague and his wife, the tiny Jack in the beautiful woman's arms. But Teague wasn't looking at the portrait of himself or of the tiny boy that he now held in his arms. Instead, he focused his gaze on the image of his wife…his Marina.
Marina Sparrow was a most unique woman. Teague had met her when he was still a young captain, sailing the seas surrounding Madagascar in his new vessel. He had not been a Pirate Lord then, but he had not even wanted that at the time. All he wanted was a sea-worthy ship and a good wind to fill his sails and send him flying over the waves of the sea. That was a time when his first and only love was the sea. The last thing he had expected was to find a woman who would tame his heart and win his love.
And yet, that was exactly what he found in Marina. It was…an unconventional first meeting, to say the least. Everyone knew that the coves along the south coast of Madagascar were home to several schools of mermaids. It was why few men had dared sail those waters. Mermaids were not the sweet ladies who would guide sailors to safety as in fairy tales, but were more like the sirens of ancient lore. They were as likely to seduce and drown you as to look at you. Still, Teague had ignored the warnings that mermaids would kill him if he dared sail those waters. The promise of treasure was far too great a temptation. After all, he was still young at the time.
So he sailed for the south shores of Madagascar, his crew growing more and more nervous the nearer they came to their destination. All of them knew the stories of the mermaids that lived in these waters, and they were far from eager to face those sirens. Not that Teague could blame them. He did not want to face them anymore than the rest of his crew did. However, he had come too far to stop now.
Their journey was uneventful until they were just outside of the cove where the mermaids were said to live. Then the air was filled with a haunting melody, and nearly all of the crew dropped whatever tasks they were working on, coming to the side of the ship to look out of the cold water. Even Teague did so, leaning out over the water to get a better look at what was causing that beautiful sound.
My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month of May,
And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,
Where many a pretty blooming girl we happy did behold,
Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.
Teague found that he was humming along with the singing, smiling to himself as he looked down at the water. He did not remember when she appeared, but one moment the water was smooth as glass, not a single ripple in it, and the next the head and shoulders of a beautiful woman had appeared above the surface, smiling coyly up at him.
And she was beautiful; perhaps the most beautiful woman that Teague had ever seen before in his life. Her face was angular, and yet had enough of the softness around the jawline to make her look very feminine, with large green eyes that shone in the moonlight. Jet black hair that seemed to have blue highlights in the pale light of the moon cascaded down her shoulders to float in soft tendrils on the surface of the water, and Teague noticed that her ears had a sharp point to them. However, he did not care about that. At the moment all he cared about was how beautiful she was.
Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be
Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,
While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn,
And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.
He did not notice how far forward he had leaned until there was the sound of his first mate splashing into the water. That brought him out of his sudden trance-like state, but the sudden clarity could not have happened at a worse moment. With a very undignified yelp—one that he later denied uttering—he fell into the water.
For one terrifying moment, there was nothing but a cold, wet darkness and pressure surrounding him. Then there were hands holding his arms. Such soft and gentle hands, that they seemed to make his panic seem irrelevant. The hands were followed by soft, full lips pressed against his. As he felt those luscious lips kiss him firmly, Teague felt the panic of drowning fading away. He almost forgot that he was underwater as he returned the kiss, opening his eyes to see that same lovely mermaid from before holding him.
Then they were both being pulled out of the water, so sharply that the mermaid almost slashed his throat with the claws that suddenly appeared at the tips of her fingers. Blinking in surprise, Teague was so stunned he couldn't really react as he was pulled onto the deck of his ship. His men gathered around him, their swords drawn and pointed at the mermaid who was also on the deck now, every man ready to die for their captain.
As they watched, the mermaid's tail became two—very attractive, Teague noted—legs, and she hugged herself tightly, hissing angrily as she glared up at her captors. Slowly, Teague rose to his feet and looked down at the mermaid.
"What'll we do wi' her, cap'n?" one of the men asked through gritted teeth.
"I say we kill 'er!" another shouted.
"Aye!" several of the crew chorused eagerly.
"She killed de first mate. She deserves ta die," a young black man who towered over Teague snarled.
"I have killed none," the mermaid sneered, her voice rough with anger and with a strange accent that Teague couldn't quite place. "Yet."
"Best ta kill 'er 'fore she kills us, then!" the cook snarled, holding his favorite knife tightly.
"No one'll be killin' anybody on my ship," Teague said firmly. "'Specially not a woman."
The mermaid snarled angrily at this, showing deadly fangs that only moments ago could have been ripping out Teague's throat. He did his best to ignore that fact as he stared fixedly at this otherworldly beauty sitting on the deck of his ship.
"Someone get her some clothes," he ordered, hiding the fact that he was blushing as his eyes ran over the very naked form of the girl before him. "An' take her ta the hold."
No one seemed eager to obey this command for several long moments. Finally, the black man who had spoken in favor of killing her in retribution for the death of the first mate stepped forward and scooped up the mermaid in his arms, ignoring her snarls and thrashing as he carried her below decks. The rest of the crew were silent as they dispersed to return to their various tasks, leaving Teague alone with his thoughts…
…Teague was pulled out of his memories by the feeling of his son shifting in his arms. Looking down at the tiny boy, Teague couldn't help but smile as he looked at the peaceful face of his now-sleeping son. As he looked at the child, Teague couldn't help but notice the similarities between Jack and his dead mother. They had the same jawline, the same smiles, and there was that same mischievous twinkle in their eyes from time to time.
Sighing heavily, Teague lifted another bottle of rum from the table, opening it and taking a long drink. He had a boy to raise on his own now, and a ship to captain. But that could wait until morning. For now, he was going to keep drinking.