Chapter 8 – The Legendary Sun and Moon

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The great hall of the fort was lavishly decorated in honor of crew's arrival that very evening. It was hard to believe how beautiful the interior had become with thoughtful preparation and a bit of diligence. Six hanging candelabrums were lit, illuminating the great hall's stone walls with an amber glow. A magnificent table was set with fine red satins placed delicately upon crisp white linens. Gold goblets and excellent meats were already prepared on the table as Jack, Barbossa and their crew leisurely entered the room. Many of Isabella's soldiers we're already present, drinking fine ale, whiskey and rum from artfully painted mugs.

"Captains! It is a pleasure to see you both here this evening!" Lieutenant Moore exclaimed, handing them mugs of rum. "I heard you lot enjoy rum?"

Both Jack and Barbossa accepted the drinks, relaxing as the rich, spicy liquid spilled down their throats.

Jack mulled the liquid over in his mouth for a moment. "Aye, she was right."

The men exchanged pleasantries as the rest of the soldier's sauntered into the room, rejoicing with laughter and joy. The newly appointed Lieutenant Jordan was the center of discussion that evening. Jordan wore his nicest chemise and breeches, along with nicely polished boots. Jordan also proudly sported a patch of honor, which was identical to the one Lieutenant Moore triumphantly displayed on his chest. Jordan's long, dark hair was slicked back behind his ears to highlight his cheerfully masculine face. One thing was for certain, the soldiers were truly grateful to have a night off in the honor of Lieutenant Jordan and their new found friends from across the Caribbean Sea.

Colin Andrews also mingled amongst the soldiers while a ravishing young woman held onto his muscular arm. Her shoulder length blond hair was almost as enchanting as her ice blue eyes. She wore an emerald green dress, with a tight corset. Subtle white ruffles traced her rather large bust line. Although many eyes were upon her - her eyes were steady on her handsome husband. She gave him a warm smile and rested her head against his arm. She was one of the many women who attended the feast this evening. Some of the women were just acquaintances of Isabella and some were married to her soldiers. Colin Andrew's wife, Grace, had quickly become a dear friend of Isabella when she moved to the colony.

Once all of the guests had arrived, the chefs of the fort carried out the finest great roast pork atop a bed of rich potatoes, plates of freshly grilled fish, and loaves hot bread. The hungry visitors followed the savory smell all the way to the table, and sat themselves down to finally enjoy the meal they had been waiting for all afternoon. Jack and Barbossa had been treated like Kings since they washed up on shore. They not only had their own living accommodations but were now honorary guests at a great feast held in their honor.

Isabella had entered the great hall, virtually unnoticed by the crowd of men laughing and telling tales of their various journeys. Jack and Barbossa had chimed in with their own exploits. Isabella listened as Jack illustrated his experience on Pelegosto Island - an island inhabited by a vicious Cannibal tribe that had captured the Pearl's crew and even ate some of the crewmen.

"And then, they made me their chief," Jack explained, arms in the air, clearly enjoying the attention he was getting.

Jack continued to tell his captivated audience about how he was treated as a god in human form and how the tribe planned to eat him. "They wanted to release me from my fleshy prison. I think it would have been a shame really..."

The soldiers had not started their own feast yet; they decided to enjoy themselves with drink until their General cut the ceremonial roasted pork with her very hands.

A few moments later, Barbossa chimed in with a tale of how he sailed to the ends of the world to save Jack from the clutches of Davy Jones' Locker. Barbossa explained how the pirate lord of Singapore, possessed a map to the gateway at world's end where Jack was to be eternally imprisoned after being taken by the Kraken.

The soldiers were most certainly mesmerized by the courageous tales told by both of the captains, prompting Lieutenant Moore to rise up from his seat. "A toast, to Captain Barbossa, for risking his skin to save his illustrious friend, Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Jack shuddered. Friend. A term he could never imagine using. It was definitely not a term to be used for the likes of Captain Barbossa. He had not even considered it for the whelp turned Davy Jones. 'Although, the whelp did save me a handful of times, for selfish reasons, of course!' he thought to himself.

Newly appointed Lieutenant Jordan stood up, meeting Moore at the head of the table. "And this drink is dedicated to Captain Jack Sparrow, for being a good man, and saving his crew from sudden death!" The men and women lifted their glasses as they looked in Jack's direction.

"A good man," he uttered softly, smiling as his mind wondered back to the day that he had been taken, body and soul, by the jaws of the Kraken. He had given his life to do the "right" thing by saving his crewmen and, later on, the whelp.

Isabella appeared from behind Murtogg and Mullroy with a goblet of rum in her hand.

"And this one is for all of my men. To all those who have served gallantly under my command for many years, this drink is for your fathers and their great grandfathers! They would all be proud to see what fine men you all have become," she stated proudly, placing a hand on her chest to fight back appreciative tears as she smiled at her men as they all joined in drinking their goblets dry.

Jack found himself studying the timidly strong woman. His gaze couldn't help but rest upon her as she walked passed the table, greeting her men with a great tone of joy hanging in her voice. She was dressed in a simple azure, empire waist gown that hugged her breasts snugly. The rest of the flowing fabric fell lightly around her feminine curves.

A river of long, brown hair suggestively curled down her lean back, tied back to showcase her deep, brown eyes as they glimmered beneath dim candlelight. Encasing her devilish eyes within an Egyptian kohl prison seemed like the right thing to do since they appeared to have had an agenda of their own, penetrating the souls of each man that stood before her. No telling what they could accomplish if their spirit was set free.

'A beautiful soul that walks alone, as silent as the night, yet as lonely as the moon,' he thought, eying her intently as if she had shed the tough and dirty exterior for something more soft and delicate. How she got through the crowd unnoticed was far beyond his comprehension.

Her muscles were no longer as tense as they were earlier that morning. Each drop of rum that surpassed her lips seemed to relax to a greater extent. As Jack began to turn his attention to Mr. Gibbs, who sat loyally by his side, he noticed a gold snake bracelet slithering up her forearm, accenting a black sun and moon tattoo on her wrist.

Isabella did not take a seat at the head of the table as most Generals would. In fact, no one had treated her as someone of a higher rank; she was treated as an equal amongst her men, and seemed to prefer it that way.

She took a seat between the slender Ragetti and the portly Pintel who sat towards the center, nearest the roasted pork which was no coincidence. She appeared to be intrigued by their personalities and amused by their constant squabbling, starting to laugh and joke with them almost immediately.

Murtogg and Mullroy sat adjacent to the threesome and all five of them began talking and exploring their pasts.

"Oi, Rags! Remember the time we got chased by those half-brained, fish people?" Pintel inquired, slapping Ragetti's back in jest, causing his wooden eye to shoot out before him.

Isabella caught it at before it fell into his rum goblet. "Cat-like reflexes, gentlemen," she stated softly as she smiled, returning the eye to Ragetti, who was visibly ecstatic.

"I didn't 'ave to chase it around like a blind git!" Ragetti exclaimed, spitting on the wooden eye and popped it back into his socket.

She grinned and happily gestured for Colin Andrews to pass the rum.


"Gibbs," Jack whispered, nudging Gibbs in the ribs as he cleared his throat.

He coughed, placing a hand on his chest, surprised by the hit. "Aye?"

"What do you know of her?" he asked cautiously.

"Who?" he inquired, watching as Jack's eyes drift down along the table toward the young general.

"The lady?" Gibbs inquired through a mouthful of pork. "I know fer sure its bad luck to have a woman general. Not good for the men to have that sort of temptation around."

"No, no, no!" he interrupted, waving his arms to stop him from uttering another word. "Not that! I've heard many long, forgotten tall tales from you, Josh. Do you have a story pertaining to the lass? Don't disappoint me, now."

"I only be knowin' a bit of her lengthy tale. It's better that ye be hearin' it from the horse's mouth, in my opinion," he stated gravely, but to his dismay, it appeared as though Jack clearly would not accept that sort of opinion, continuing to look at him with his eyebrows raised and mug of rum in hand.

"Well, if ye be really interested it in Cap'n, I'll tell ye of the tale," he stated reluctantly, pausing for a few moments before continuing on.

"Legend has it; she's the only daughter of Marc Antony and that devilish imp, Queen Cleopatra of Egypt. Born the twin sister of Alexander Helios – both symbolically named after the sun and the moon. She was chosen by the gods to carry out a mission of sorts - to defeat the Ares, God of War, and take his place amongst them as an equal. The gods let her drink from the Fountain of Youth so that she could not depart this life when she faced him."

Gibbs felt Jack eying him intently, soaking in every word that he had spoken.

"Well? What happened? She's clearly here among us, mate."

"She failed," Gibbs finally spat, looking down at his plate, fingers entwined with one another. "Poor lass… I don' know why exactly, but the gods banished her. Gave her nothing but the clothes on 'er back an' the ability to not die. That's all I be knowin', Jack."

Gibbs began to look uncomfortable, fidgeting in his seat. He was a superstitious man and Jack knew, as plain as day, that he did not want anything to do with the heathen gods, so he did not press the matter.

"How exactly did you come across this tale, if you don't mind me asking? I've never heard of it," Jack slurred as he stole a glance of Isabella laughing at one of Murtogg's jokes, clapping her hands as she took a small swig of rum herself. "Well, truth is, I have heard of it, but it seems that they failed to mention that the guardian was, in fact, a woman."

"It's not a well known legend, sir. It's not as clear as Davy Jones or the locker itself. Many men jus' don't believe it ta be true. Anyone who even tries to find out fer sure has been taken by the gods before findin' out how real it truly is."


She felt his warm eyes fixed upon her skin. She had noticed him gazing at her for quite some time, feeling his quick little glances and sly smiles even when she did not look over in his direction. She couldn't help the fact that she felt flattered by his coyness, feeling her cheeks grow warm and rosy. She had felt this sensation before, and did not want to experience it again. Or did she? But did not want to admit it? Her mind fell silent while her heart grew loud with each additional drink of rum and whiskey.

She was amidst a blood boiling discussion between Murtogg and Mullroy about the fish people aboard the Flying Dutchman. Mullroy was insisting that the lack of discipline aboard the vessel was due to the fact that they were, in fact, fish people.

Once the food had been happily savored and locked away in their stomachs, some of Isabella's men and their wives had taken to the empty space near the table with instruments, and started playing a tune for the rest of the guests to enjoy. Many of the men and woman had gotten up to dance, but it was obvious that the drink had gone to their heads, thus their dancing turned into stumbling about merrily to the sound of fiddles and flutes.

Hours had past since the roasted pork had been devoured. Many of the soldiers were now retiring to their rooms accompanied by their lovely wives. Isabella excused herself from the ongoing fish people discussion and made her way to the small terrace to enjoy the fresh breeze that came from the sea.

Jack found himself amidst a group of the lovely women, chatting away about his daring adventures, flashing his famous, devious smiles in all directions. He simply couldn't help himself, for he was armed with a half empty bottle of rum. Leaning up against the stone wall, he cooed each woman with a seductive look and countless words of extraordinary circumstance. One of the women even went as far as playing with some of the trinkets in Jack's long, dark hair.

Isabella found herself strolling in his direction, smiling to herself as she waited for the opportune moment.

She sauntered over towards the group after a few minutes and sighed. "You're quite popular with the ladies aren't you? You must be quite the charming gentleman."

Jack smiled and stroked his beard with his fingertips. "So it seems," he began. "You can say that I possess a power of sorts," he mused. "One that is only detectable to those who can truly distinguish it."

"A power, you say?" she laughed. "I've never heard of such a thing. I would say it would only be a matter of inquisitiveness."

"Are you implying that you might, in fact, be a tad bit curious about dear ol' Jack?"

"I'm not implying anything Captain Sparrow; I was just making an observation of the situation at hand," she retaliated, slowly taking a few steps toward him. "Whether or not you'd like to change the current situation by accompanying me outside onto the terrace is an entirely different story."

She gracefully stepped around him, slightly brushing her bare arm against his as she walked toward the terrace entrance, brushing aside the thin white curtains as she entered. Her body was greeted by the cool night air.

Jack quickly excused himself from the anxious group of ladies with a bow. "My apologies, tarts, but I'm obviously needed elsewhere."

He stepped through the stone threshold only to find Isabella standing alone with her arms leisurely resting upon the stone rail before her.

"It is a fine night isn't it, Captain?" She felt his warmth behind her, his eyes staring a hole into her back. She looked over her shoulder to find his answer.

"Aye, that it is," he agreed, letting his eyes roam through the night sky, licking his lips before drowning himself in the last drops of rum from his bottle.

"And your arm? How is feeling?"

"S'fine, you know, if you reject the sense of your injury, the injury itself seems to just disappear."

"A fine piece of optimism, Captain. I wish that most men would think just as you do."

He smirked, slowly moving toward where she was standing, enjoying the evening breeze.

"What's troubling your mind? You appeared to be lost in your thoughts all evening. Are you not the man all your crew members spoke so highly of?" she inquired softly.

"I would be perfectly fine if Captain Barbossa would refrain from stealing my bloody ship every chance he got!" he yelled over his shoulder, in the hopes that Barbossa would be listening in on their conversation.

"Ah ha! So, you are you rightful captain of the Black Pearl?" she asked, raising her brow.

"Always have been and always will be, love." he stated, leaning up against the stone rail, looking up at the moon.

"Be that as it may, I'm not one for life on land. I'd rather be feeling the evening breeze on my ship than feeling it from this rock any day. The Pearl is my freedom, and it pains me to see her in the hands of any other man who is incapable of handling her."

"Ah, freedom. What a voracious luxury," she debated. "Freedom has not been in my nature for centuries, Jack. So, I would not know of what you speak of," She looked down at her hands, eying her long slender fingers as they traced the intricate imprints of stone, softly resting them against the rail.

There was a momentary pause between them, though the pair remained quiet for quite some time, their silence made more noise than a howling thunder storm.

"Are the stories true?" he finally asked.

"It appears as though my story has been viciously slanted over the course of time," she responded skeptically.

He leaned in to her. "Mind telling me the real version?" he inquired. "Because who you really were in the past inadvertently affects whoever you may be now."

"Are you really that interested?"

"I wouldn't have a left a room full of willing tarts if I were not. Besides, it'll be a chance the set the story straight once and for all," he persuaded, realizing her hesitation.

She paused for a moment, taking in a longing breath of crisp night air. "I am the only living descendant of Queen Cleopatra and Marc Antony and sister of a once loving and fair brother, Alexander Helios," she started softly.

"When I was a child, my father took the time to teach my brother and me how to properly run a kingdom. He taught us of politics and policies, but most of all, my father placed a great importance on teaching us how to raise a grand army and fight for what we believed in.

"Of course, my mother did not want that life for me. It was uncommon for women of my time to fight, so she taught me to be a proper Queen just as she. To be honest, I don't remember it all too well. I was just a child. My parents so happened to be controversial rulers of Alexandria and wanted nothing but the best for the both of us," Isabella grew silent for a moment to regain her thoughts.

"As you might have heard, my parents committed suicide as Octavian's army invaded Egypt. I was taken, along with my brother, back to Italy to be raised by that ruthless cow, Octavia Minor - my father's former wife.

"Her hatred for us was palpable enough for her to sell me into slavery," she stated, biting her lip, attempting to calm her anger. "I was a slave to the roman army, out of spite for my father's deceit! She sold me while I was still young, knowing that it was not easy to tell whether I was a man or woman. She cut my hair to the root and threw me to the lions.

"Twelve long years I spent in a godforsaken cell, killing more than my fair share of men for the amusement of others as she sat high on her pedestal deep within the crowd.

"I fought each day and slept in dungeons of dirt. My hands covered in blood, I was fierce and held a ravenous hunger for blood – the blood of my fellow man. The cheers of the crowd ignited my hunger for more. So, I continued on, cutting my hair and tying down my chest as best I could with whatever scraps of clothing I could find. I trained myself in solitude, like a beast.

"I had not known it, but they were watching me. They watched me suffer for years … they watched me become an animal," she whispered softly, trying to fight back the long forgotten memories and constant anger she held in her heart.

"They finally called upon me, one night. The heathen god, Hera, came to me in the darkness of night, promising me salvation if I simply took her hand. Assuring me that she would lead me away from the brutal world that I had become so accustomed to, so she offered me a choice, either die cold and alone or to fight in the name of the gods and become her immortal ally."

She slowly turned to meet Jack's eyes, watching as a look of sympathy plagued his face. She grimaced, knowing that she did not want or need his sympathy. Yet, he could not help feeling sorry for the young woman, for he could not imagine living a life of slavery, without the freedom he possessed. He would not wish it on his worst enemy.

"I was to fight Ares, God of War. The other heathen gods no longer favored him; he had and still continues to have more power than we could ever imagine. So, she took me to the fountain, divulging its secret location to my eyes and ears alone. I was honored to except her mission and I drank from it because I thought it was what I wanted. I did not know at the time that I would always be a slave to the gods, succumbing to their every wish and command, doing their sinful bidding.

"I finally realized it during my battle with Ares. I realized that I was fighting a being, not of this world, because he wanted something that I've always wished for…"

"What was that?" he inquired with eagerness.

"Freedom," she replied, smirking before she turned her eyes back out into the night.

"I let myself appear vulnerable and, in turn, become vulnerable to him. I let him stab my heart with his blade, because for a moment, I did not feel invincible. I felt nothing. I was and still am the living dead, forever trapped in a life of blood and solitude while his anger and rage still lives on within me.

Isabella's fingers grazed the very top of the old wound on her chest.

"So, you are not a god then?" he inquired, curiously.

"I'm no more a god then you are an innocent adventurer," she retorted.

"I had failed my mission and for that, I was banished. I had escaped to different parts of the world every now and then, so I could not be found. I had no one. They murdered my brother, you know?

"My poor, sweet brother," she muttered. "He did not deserve to die a dirty and dishonorable death. He was a good man, a grand ruler. Just like my father," she confirmed.

He felt great sorrow for her and wanted nothing more but to stop the overwhelming feeling of grief that came from within her. He took hold of her shaking hands, causing her to calm as she stood there with him for just a moment. Her eyes tingled from the warmth of her tears, yet they never came. Jack found himself running his fingers lightly along her wrist and palms, attempting to comfort her.

Anger filled her heart once more. "No!" she yelled, relinquishing her hands. "I know why you're here, Jack. You're not here for the sake of an adventure. You are here for your own selfish wants and needs! You do not care for me or my pain. No storm of that nature would have been conjured by Poseidon for any ordinary traveler. You will use me, Jack, just like everyone else has."

She stormed off the terrace, the tears in her eyes glistening under the dim candlelight, and disappeared amid the dancing crowd.