Hey! MERRY CHRISTMAS! to any who do not celebrate, happy holidays! :D so this is my Christmas gift to you! Any who read Branded, yours will be in tomorrow. I love all of you so much and I wish everyone a very happy holiday. Anyone who got a spare moment to read and review has all my love. And to Ang- I miss you're awesome reviews! I want you back!
-Han
Anna had never felt more alive, her arm raised beside Will's as they prepared to call the signal to fire. Her blood was crashing through her ears, moving at a rate that her head spin like the water the Pearl rode on. Endlessly spinning. A breathless smile rested on her lips, eyes wide despite the constant onslaught of water and wind. She belonged here.
"Wait till we're more to port," Gibbs cautioned as the Pearl veered closer to the Dutchman, the decrepit ship looking hauntingly comfortable riding the maelstrom. At home among the waves and the sea, no matter what it may bring. Anna thought that, if it wanted to, the vessel could pass though the walls of water around them.
They grew closer, and she could see the frantic movement on the other ship to line up their shots. Citing a hint of flash from them, waiting for the sparks to aim perfectly. When they were in range, Anna let her arm fall, her voice shouting across the Pearl at deafening volume. "FIRE!"
It was repeated through Will, Elizabeth, Barbossa, and Gibbs, as the crew rushed to comply. Cannon fire burst through the sound of men's voices and rushing water and the splatter of stinging rain. Distantly, she could hear Davy Jones order his own crew to fire, and she braced herself as they took hits. Wood and bodies went flying through the air on both sides, the sound of destruction and the thunder of cannons ripping through Anna's chest and it was all she could do not to laugh. Barbossa didn't seem to be able to restrain himself, as he watched the frantic and desperate looks pass over sailors' faces.
"It be too late to alter course now, mateys!" he cackled, tipping his head back to accept more of the raging torrent. Anna braced her hands on the railing, watching the Pearl and the Dutchman circle each other like archaic predators, waiting for the upper hand as shrapnel flew by their Captain's faces. She wondered distantly if Jack had gotten out yet, had freed himself from the slimy and decrepit prison.
As she watched pieces of the Flying Dutchman be ripped away and fall into the torrent of water, she hoped so. She knew her choice to release Calypso was risky for Jack, so risky she'd forced her mind off of the thought. It had had to be done, the Goddess had to be set free, no matter the cost to anyone life. Even if that life was Jack's.
And she knew that Jack could handle himself, could manage to survive, because he was a survivor, it was what he did. If anyone died it would be her, unprepared and rash, willing to die for her brother and her love. She thought absently about telling him the next time she saw him, telling Jack that she loved him more than air, almost as much as the sea.
If she were to die, she would want him to know. And she had come to terms with the fact that she was probably going to die, because at least it was the way she'd want to go. With gunfire and the ring of swords around her, suffocating her into the sea water rushing around them. And then she would fade away into the water and Calypso would watch over her between the worlds.
There was no better way to die. Not in her mind, where the sea and the sky would eventually meet and consume her when she went willingly into death's arms. That was what made her different from Jack, he feared what lay beyond when Anna thought of it as the next great adventure. To die was to be taken into the arms of the sea and to face what came next. Anna liked to think she might be reborn, maybe as a creature of the sea, something constantly enveloped by its sweet touch.
She wondered if she would still love Jack as a dolphin.
Xx
Murtogg and Mullroy wondered how they went from guarding the docks at Port Royal to guarding the heart of a mythical Captain of a mythical ship in the middle of a maelstrom too big to exist. And once upon a time, they'd argued over the validity of a ship that the mythical one they were on was currently in battle with. Almost as one they wondered if talk of the Goddess was real as well, talk of Calypso bound to the single form of a Jamaican voodoo woman. But that was preposterous.
They started when Jack Sparrow- Captain Jack Sparrow, they remembered, sauntered into the room like he owned the place. In retrospect, they would think that the Captain may have even thought that. He was just as odd looking as they remembered, lacking only a beaded coin on top of his bandanna that they could have sworn was there before. Jack looked at them almost blankly before something like recognition shot into his dark eyes, and cunning surfaced.
"Hold it or I'll shoot!" Mullroy shouted, hating that his voice wavered even slightly. Distantly he wondered where Annabelle was, the girl who never wore dresses. Sometimes he wondered if he'd made the right choice, letting her rest on the docks that day. He told himself she was happier now, having had the adventure he somehow knew she'd always wanted.
"Good one," Jack said with a smirk, moving to the right calmly and searching for something. He seemed to have found it when he grinned suddenly and made a motion with his arms that Mullroy could only describe as success. "I just came to get me effects," he said jovially, like he had that day on the docks. He had to stop thinking about that day. Jack suddenly looked an unhealthy mixture of cunning, respect, and confusion. "Admirable though it may be, why are you here when you could be elsewhere?" he asked as though the question made perfect sense.
It took the two a few moments to grasp the meaning of the question and Murtogg responded in that same stuttering way he had on the docks, like even he wasn't sure of the answer. "Someone has to stay and guard the chest," he said nervously, watching the eyes of the pirate like they would flash and then he would attack. But he doubted pirates were that predictable. Both Navy men turned and pointed their small cannons back at the chest.
"There is no question, there has been a breakdown in military discipline aboard this vessel," Mullroy commented dryly, his eyes narrowing at the thought of Mercer ever submitting to the mythical tentacled Captain.
"I blame the fish people," Murtogg said bitterly, his face twisting at the thought of the mythical sea creature-human hybrids. Myth seemed far too close to his reality in this day and age.
"Oh! So fish people, by dint of being fish people, automatically aren't as disciplined as non-fish people?" Mullroy quipped back, looking like he actually agreed but enjoying the argument all the same. He liked being the smarter one of the two, though he could never tell his companion that without sparking a more heated debate.
"Seems contributory, is all I'm suggesting," Murtogg replied with a light shrug, looking proud of himself for using such a large word. They seemed to have forgotten the pirate watching them with almost intrigued eyes, like he was actually interesting in the topic of discussion.
"It is true, if there were no fish people, there would be no need to guard the chest," Mullroy said back, sounding thoughtful.
"And if there were no chest, we wouldn't need to be here to guard it," Murtogg added, something like excitement creeping into his eyes. Both men looked down, to see an empty table and a long gone pirate. Murtogg hated to admit that he was good, better than Beckett, probably.
Xx
"Prepare to board!" Mercer yelled, his scarred face watching the ever closer Pearl, he could just see the acting Captain, the former princess. Former, since she had cut him off in Singapore and told him. His career had died that day, he would be sure she did as well.
Davy Jones watched the way the Princess his love trusted moved from the helm, rushing to the nearest cannon and aiming so squarely he was almost positive she had been calculating the move for the past several minutes. He growled low in his chest as she lit the wick, seeing the predatory smile on his lips.
"Cover!" he shouted, pushing Mercer down with him as the cannon blasted and lodged itself somewhere only a foot above his head. He could see the burning bodies of British soldiers screaming in agony from the blast. His cold eyes shifted suddenly to the Company man before him, scarred eyes glaring at him. A smile drifted to the Captain's face as his tentacles reached out, sliding slickly across skin. Animalistic fear flickered across the crass man's eyes before it took root and held as tentacles gripped his throat and sunk into his mouth and eyes.
It was a slow death, one spent flailing and choking out something like a scream. When the body of Mr. Mercer finally went slack, Jones smiled and reached into his pocket, bringing out the key and cackling from his chest.
When he stood again, his crew rallied behind him as he held up the key for cheers to rouse them and make them strong again. No longer under the enslavement of men, they thundered towards the Captain's cabin, their breathing excited and heavy, like they were finally allowed to breathe after long years of suffocation.
They felt their Captain pause before they saw it, an incredulous Davy Jones and a startled Jack Sparrow staring at each other like they were figments of their imaginations. Jones recovered first, falling easily into a smirk and the crew let out a low chuckle.
"Lookie here, boys. A lost bird. A lost bird that never learned to fly," Jones taunted. Jack didn't agree with that, according to Annie, he flew every time he was at the helm. He flew often, then. Instead of saying that he returned the smirk and remembered that he was better than Jones ever could be. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.
"To my great regret. But, never too late to learn, eh?" he asked lightly, turning in a fluid movement similar to that expressed by gentle waves at incoming tide, and slashed a rope to his left. He grabbed it just as quickly, letting it carry him on wings of rain and sea water up toward the topsail. He swung his body swiftly, landing precariously on the mast and swinging his arms wildly to retain his balance. He grinned almost pompishily to himself as he did, the chest still in his grip and his sword at the ready.
Davy Jones appeared from the mast, his form melting from the wood in a manner that made him seem attached to the ship at a base level of skin and sinew. Something Jack wished he wasn't jealous of. The Captain of the Flying Dutchman glared, but Jack could see the desperation behind his eyes. He was just afraid of death as Jack was.
"The chest, hand it over!" he shouted, watching the way the pirate's knuckles whitened around the handle. Jack smiled, rain beating almost painfully on his face, but he'd never felt more alive.
"I can set you free mate," Jack said suddenly, a calculating look in his eyes and he wondered if Davy Jones would take the bait. Indecision and confusion riddled the Captain's face while Jack gripped his sword tighter. Anger swept to replace the indecision and Jones' eyes had never looked colder, his empty chest burning with betrayal and pain and even fear.
"My freedom was forfeit long ago!" he swore, his chest rising and falling abnormally heavily and Jack suddenly thought this may be the last time he faced the dreaded Captain. One of them would die today. The thought made him slightly sick, murderer he was not. Not like Barbossa or Jones or Beckett. It never sat right with him, and maybe that was what made him a little more human.
Jones' battle cry drew him from his thoughts as the monster drew his sword and attacked. Jack's heart stuttered at the sudden emission of noise, ripping him from the mindset of mercy and making him focus on the dance a swordfight required. He parried, his steel ringing against Jones' and he distantly recognized the sword as the one Norrington once owned.
His movements were fluid again, blocking attacks like he was not balancing on the top of a mast in the middle of hurricane in the middle of a maelstrom on a haunted ship in the center of one of the greatest battles in pirate history. He wondered how Anna was fairing, as the ships grew close enough to board, sailors on both sides pouring across the sides on gangplanks and swinging ropes, bringing the fight closer. He thought he caught a glimpse of her, laughing like she almost always did in battle and couldn't hold back the grin that rose to his lips.
Maybe, if they survived this, he would tell her how he felt.
His thoughts stopped abruptly as he caught the dull glint of steel too close to his body for comfort. His body reeled back, almost losing his balance on the mast and falling over the edge and into the black oblivion of the sea. When he righted himself, he grinned, watching the way Jones seemed to roll his eyes at the show of balance and precision. Jack seemed to nod to himself, as if to assure himself that he was still standing upright, and launched back into the fray.