Hidden Liaisons
A Prequel to Pirates of the Caribbean
Author: hear-me-roar
Rating: R
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)
A/N This chapter is going to be kind of gruesome. I thought I might just warn you. Sorry about it being so short, I'll have up more soon.
Thanks to everybody who's reviewed, it's been a real driving force. I have real issues with writing in chronological order but I'm trying to get it out anyway. :)
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Jack crept into the house as quietly as he could, making sure no servants were about. Removing his shoes as habit bayed him he crept across the floor, watching carefully for any of his father's staff. The library door was open but his Father's back was turned to the fire crackling within.
He had visited the bookshop after dropping Evie safely home, picking up his precious parcel. The evening had been quite a success in his mind and Jack felt cocky enough to risk smuggling in another book. "Come here boy," said Lord Sparrow, stopping Jack dead in his tracks. He turned to see his father, slightly pink from the decanter of brandy he had consumed. A young woman sat in the corner, her hair slightly mussed and her skirts in a state of disarray. Lord Sparrow beckoned to Jack, throwing out his arm in a gesture of seeming kindness. Jack approached him cautiously, trying to keep his face plain. "What's this of you seeing Turner's girl?"
Jack shot the chamberlain a nasty look before turning back to his father, "I've been courting her. We've been going to the balls and such."
"'Bout time you found a girl, I was beginning to worry about your damned phase with books and the like. But no more of that now, you've come to be a proper lad." His breath reeked of brandy and Jack did all he could to not shrink from the repressive odor of it. It never boded well for him. "Now my boy, be off with you, I should tend to these requests from that damned French ambassador. Can't understand the bloke half the time.."
"Good Evening, Father," said Jack, making good of his father's dismissal. He turned and all but ran for the door, almost to sanctuary when he dropped his glove.
"Here, my lord, let me see to that," said the chamberlain, reaching for the dropped glove.
"No it's alright, I have it," said Jack as he reached for the glove. The chamberlain, however, was persistent in his helpfulness and effectively, knocked against Jack, hitting the package secured under Jack's jacket and sending his shoes clattering to the floor.
"What's this, my lord?" said the chamberlain, taking the package from beneath his arm, "Might I see it to your quarters?" Jack stared at the package, hoping to God that his father was in enough of a drunken stupor not to notice.
"What's that you've got there Frederick?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning from his desk to study the brown package.
"An item belonging to your son, it seems," said the chamberlain with a wicked smile. Jack dared not turn towards his father, hoping that if he stayed still enough, he might not endure too much of a tirade.
"What be that my boy?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning on his son. Jack saw his hand reach for the poker by the mantle, knuckles whitening as they gripped the iron length.
"It's nothing, Father, just a book for my studies-"
"See it here Frederick," Lord Sparrow barked, reaching out for the book. The chamberlain handed the book to him and Lord Sparrow made short work of the brown paper, exposing red leather embossed with gold script that proclaimed 'Hamlet' proudly. The girl caught sight of the title along with the growing mood of discontent and made her way to the door, politely but too quickly.
"What is this?"
"My tutors-"
"Your damned tutors didn't tell you of this!" shouted Lord Turner, his face turning scarlet, "I thought we were clear that these books wouldn't enter my house!"
Jack didn't answer, knowing that to do so would result in very painful consequences. Lord Sparrow glared at him, his finger nails digging deep gouges in the soft leather. In the beginning of his rage, he threw the book into the fire place, flames licking at the creamy parchment.
Jack heard his father approaching but kept staring downward, his hands limp at his sides. After the first few beatings he had learned to take them, and to try his best not to dwell on them. His eyes remained on the book, curling into their ashy doom much like Jack's dreams midst Lord Sparrow's wrath. The first stroke of the cane made his knees quiver.
"You, stupid insolent boy! You're a disgrace to me!" The second weakened them as pain nearly overcame him.
"Thought I wouldn't find out, did you? Thought you'd hide behind an illusion of normalcy?!" The third made them buckle, sending him down into the Persian carpet's well- known embrace.
"Am I stupid to you? I know what goes on, I always do. You can't hide from me, my boy." The blood trickled down his back with the fourth stroke, running like his patience so carefully held.
"What would your mother say, hm? You killed her. And you further dishonor her? She'd spit on you boy, crush you down." As the fifth fell he felt the iron tip hit the bone of his spine. His father hadn't used the cane in a while; it had mostly been his fists and an occasional book.
"You filthy wretch, hiding amongst your stupid fairy tales. Time to grow up my boy!" Six strokes heralded the burlap screaming wrested from Jack's throat.
"I should see you dead for disobeying me. You're lucky I'm as lenient as I am. Any other Lord would see their son dead." The seventh sent his chest to the floor, no longer able to give support against the strokes of the cane.
"This'll teach you. Hold you at bay I would think. Won't be bringing home any more fairy tales now, will you my boy." Eight chipped the top of a vertebra, but not enough to kill. Do you even know my name? "I'll disown you, that's what I'll do. But it'll have to be discreet. None of the other Lord's can know. Ruin my image it would, your stupid prattling." Nine saw him passing out from pain.
"Escape will you? Not while I'm here you won't. It's time for you to face facts my boy." And ten, to Jack's mind, never came.
Author: hear-me-roar
Rating: R
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)
A/N This chapter is going to be kind of gruesome. I thought I might just warn you. Sorry about it being so short, I'll have up more soon.
Thanks to everybody who's reviewed, it's been a real driving force. I have real issues with writing in chronological order but I'm trying to get it out anyway. :)
*******************************************
************************
Jack crept into the house as quietly as he could, making sure no servants were about. Removing his shoes as habit bayed him he crept across the floor, watching carefully for any of his father's staff. The library door was open but his Father's back was turned to the fire crackling within.
He had visited the bookshop after dropping Evie safely home, picking up his precious parcel. The evening had been quite a success in his mind and Jack felt cocky enough to risk smuggling in another book. "Come here boy," said Lord Sparrow, stopping Jack dead in his tracks. He turned to see his father, slightly pink from the decanter of brandy he had consumed. A young woman sat in the corner, her hair slightly mussed and her skirts in a state of disarray. Lord Sparrow beckoned to Jack, throwing out his arm in a gesture of seeming kindness. Jack approached him cautiously, trying to keep his face plain. "What's this of you seeing Turner's girl?"
Jack shot the chamberlain a nasty look before turning back to his father, "I've been courting her. We've been going to the balls and such."
"'Bout time you found a girl, I was beginning to worry about your damned phase with books and the like. But no more of that now, you've come to be a proper lad." His breath reeked of brandy and Jack did all he could to not shrink from the repressive odor of it. It never boded well for him. "Now my boy, be off with you, I should tend to these requests from that damned French ambassador. Can't understand the bloke half the time.."
"Good Evening, Father," said Jack, making good of his father's dismissal. He turned and all but ran for the door, almost to sanctuary when he dropped his glove.
"Here, my lord, let me see to that," said the chamberlain, reaching for the dropped glove.
"No it's alright, I have it," said Jack as he reached for the glove. The chamberlain, however, was persistent in his helpfulness and effectively, knocked against Jack, hitting the package secured under Jack's jacket and sending his shoes clattering to the floor.
"What's this, my lord?" said the chamberlain, taking the package from beneath his arm, "Might I see it to your quarters?" Jack stared at the package, hoping to God that his father was in enough of a drunken stupor not to notice.
"What's that you've got there Frederick?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning from his desk to study the brown package.
"An item belonging to your son, it seems," said the chamberlain with a wicked smile. Jack dared not turn towards his father, hoping that if he stayed still enough, he might not endure too much of a tirade.
"What be that my boy?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning on his son. Jack saw his hand reach for the poker by the mantle, knuckles whitening as they gripped the iron length.
"It's nothing, Father, just a book for my studies-"
"See it here Frederick," Lord Sparrow barked, reaching out for the book. The chamberlain handed the book to him and Lord Sparrow made short work of the brown paper, exposing red leather embossed with gold script that proclaimed 'Hamlet' proudly. The girl caught sight of the title along with the growing mood of discontent and made her way to the door, politely but too quickly.
"What is this?"
"My tutors-"
"Your damned tutors didn't tell you of this!" shouted Lord Turner, his face turning scarlet, "I thought we were clear that these books wouldn't enter my house!"
Jack didn't answer, knowing that to do so would result in very painful consequences. Lord Sparrow glared at him, his finger nails digging deep gouges in the soft leather. In the beginning of his rage, he threw the book into the fire place, flames licking at the creamy parchment.
Jack heard his father approaching but kept staring downward, his hands limp at his sides. After the first few beatings he had learned to take them, and to try his best not to dwell on them. His eyes remained on the book, curling into their ashy doom much like Jack's dreams midst Lord Sparrow's wrath. The first stroke of the cane made his knees quiver.
"You, stupid insolent boy! You're a disgrace to me!" The second weakened them as pain nearly overcame him.
"Thought I wouldn't find out, did you? Thought you'd hide behind an illusion of normalcy?!" The third made them buckle, sending him down into the Persian carpet's well- known embrace.
"Am I stupid to you? I know what goes on, I always do. You can't hide from me, my boy." The blood trickled down his back with the fourth stroke, running like his patience so carefully held.
"What would your mother say, hm? You killed her. And you further dishonor her? She'd spit on you boy, crush you down." As the fifth fell he felt the iron tip hit the bone of his spine. His father hadn't used the cane in a while; it had mostly been his fists and an occasional book.
"You filthy wretch, hiding amongst your stupid fairy tales. Time to grow up my boy!" Six strokes heralded the burlap screaming wrested from Jack's throat.
"I should see you dead for disobeying me. You're lucky I'm as lenient as I am. Any other Lord would see their son dead." The seventh sent his chest to the floor, no longer able to give support against the strokes of the cane.
"This'll teach you. Hold you at bay I would think. Won't be bringing home any more fairy tales now, will you my boy." Eight chipped the top of a vertebra, but not enough to kill. Do you even know my name? "I'll disown you, that's what I'll do. But it'll have to be discreet. None of the other Lord's can know. Ruin my image it would, your stupid prattling." Nine saw him passing out from pain.
"Escape will you? Not while I'm here you won't. It's time for you to face facts my boy." And ten, to Jack's mind, never came.