AN: Wow, update today AND yesterday? The world must be ending…
A Witch's Daughter
Chapter Twelve: What She Forgot, or "Good Morning, The Sky Rained Blood Yesterday"
Jack woke up with a pounding head and the strongest feeling of nakedness and overexposure he'd felt yet. It took him a moment to realize that the reason for such a feeling was due entirely to a very large bed and a busty blonde woman on the other side hogging the covers. As he looked at her, he tried to piece together the exact events of the previous day and night before, and separate them from a rather random — not to mention graphic — dream he'd grudgingly awoken from.
Perhaps it'll be easier to start off with the surprising and vivid dream he'd reluctantly left for reality. It was a fantasy, no point in denying it, involving gold, indoor ponds, and his own personal harem. He'd dreamed of gold before — it was practically in the job description of piracy to do such a thing — but harems and indoor ponds, not so much (if ever).
What was so peculiar was in the dream, there was an ongoing war, a beautiful Oriental-looking woman emanating a golden-silver light, and…and…
The dream went like this:
"Kalikratai," a female voice called softly to him. Soft hands encircled his bare waist; a warm body pressed intimately against his back. Smiling slightly, he placed a hand over one of her own and quickly spun the Oriental woman into his arms.
She was beautiful; her eyes were a pale silver, set in glowing golden skin, her hair long and straight, shimmering ebony. Her laughing face looked adoringly up at him, love and devotion evident in her every glance. Her long clinging dress was of a fine red muslin, gold edging the hem. A gold headpiece, small but intricately wrought, set with gems, adorned her hair, similar bands matching her arm, wrist and ankle.
She wasn't just any goddess; she was the Goddess, his Shikono. She toyed with one of his braids affectionately. "Have you heard about the latest siege?" she asked softly.
"Who, where and when?" he indulged.
"Us against Svawiya." she said. "He's a fool, a loving, trusting fool, my Svarnir," she said in disdain, although her beautiful eyes sparkled maliciously. "The capture of his beloved Karamityris was insultingly effortless."
"His consort?" he asked sharply.
She looked straight into his brown eyes. "She's meant to be very beautiful, I heard," she went on. "Even more beautiful than I."
"That's not possible," he chastised, kissing her gently and ignoring the forty-seven other scantily-clad women of the seraglio, "she's like me — human."
"Yes, and I'll choose you over Svarnir any day," she sighed. "But I wouldn't be surprised — he did create her to be what he believed was perfect." She looked out towards the golden sands stretching out from beneath the balcony. "As for human…That's set to change very soon. Like myself, he's considering granting her immortality."
"Yes," he leapt, "about that…"
"But she's still human," Shikono interrupted. "And she is quite pretty, actually."
He just smiled. "I think you're jealous."
"I hate her," she admitted freely. "Ever since the moment she'd opened her damned blue eyes, I'd hated her." She paused before she laughed. "I hate her so very much, I'm given to you as another mistress," she cackled spitefully, and he shivered. Although he did love her for all of the things she had given him, everything she had done for him, and the countless others that were indubitably still to come, there were times when he was afraid of her, this beautiful creature that was beyond the devils or angels she herself had created.
"Would you like to meet your new plaything?" she cooed.
He didn't even have to think about it. Karamityris: the mortal Queen of the whole of Svanir's realm, the creature considered more beautiful, more desirable than his own Goddess.
Of course he hated her; she seemed arrogant and pretentious, thinking that she could merely replace Shikono by sleeping with a God. But then again, that was the entire reason she was created…
"Yes," he smirked, "I think I would."
Her smile widened. She turned back to the large door directly opposite the balcony. She simply clapped her hands twice, and by some uncannily precise intuition possessed by every single slave and servant in this palace built just for him, the double doors swung open, and a pale creature, in a flimsy dress of white and silvered muslin, was dragged, twisting and turning between two indifferent soldiers, and flung at his feet.
He looked down at her in detached curiosity. Her arms were encircled by bands of gentle silver, as was her throat, her straight hair entwined with milky pearls and opals. Everything about her was pale white and graceful silver, except for her hair, a deep shade of gold. He was certain her eyes would be silver, like his Shikono's, and her lips as pale as her skin.
Hardly as beautiful at all, her colouring.
"How dare you keep your face turned away from your lord!" Shikono snapped. "Look at him!"
Very slowly, the captured queen raised her head, a few golden strands spilling over her face, and looked directly into his own brown eyes with her detesting deep blue.
x!x-x!x-
Random, no?
Especially the last part, where he recognised the powerful queen to be Catriona: older, aristocratic, and more exotic, but still, without a shadow of a doubt, that same pirate with a 'holier-than-thou' glower. He smirked as he recalled how she was dragged towards him, twisting and turning in that flimsy dress. Her body had certainly…matured, even if her face remained the same.
He wondered if he'll ever be able to see her in a thin gown of silver-threaded muslin.
It'll be a very happy day for him if he did.
x!x-x!x-
When Elizabeth had awoken, she realized that she was lying on a makeshift bed of a pile of rags clad in only her undergarments and a thick but itchy cover to keep her decent. An old woman was a little way from her in this tiny cramped hut, her elaborate deep yellow dress in hand as she attempted to wash out in a worn bowl what looked like red paint.
But it wasn't paint… It was blood.
Visions of the night before flashed before her: seeing that creature, the pirate chasing her, the same pirate fainting, her and an old woman carrying said pirate back to a hut, the sky raining blood…
She hoped that wasn't going to be a regular occurrence.
"Ah," the old crone greeted warmly, "good morning to ye, Miss." She was a kind-looking woman, this ancient one, this wise one. Her hair was a mass of black, with only one vivid streak of grey, her brown skin was creased, and her laughing eyes dark green. She had the appearance of a rose, faded and withered away, but still beautiful, still graceful. She approached Elizabeth with a bowl of fruit and bread, setting it down gently before her. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the bed," she began apologetically, "but favouritism is a powerful force to be reckoned with."
Elizabeth looked towards the small cot stashed away in the corner, where she saw Catriona's sleeping form resting heavily on the small mattress. The covers rested on her bare hips, her pale hair spread across her back and pillow, breathing gently.
"Do you know her, Madam?" she asked.
"Yes I did, Miss," she replied, returning to her task of washing Elizabeth's dress. "I knew her dear ma as well, God rest her soul…" She stopped right there, looking into the red water, and let out a mirthless laugh. "God rest her soul indeed," she continued harshly, "but that lass there should be counting 'er lucky stars that whore died when she did."
Elizabeth looked down at the bowl in front of her, trying not to show her interest. The thing is, she was curious to know what did happen that made the younger girl embark on a life of piracy. The woman did not elaborate, turning to an entirely different topic. "I doubt she's very fond of you, that lass lying there, but don't take it too personally, Miss. Ever since the age of twelve when her ma kicked it she's 'ad a hatred of law-abiding Britons, and exactly seven years yesterday of hatred and scorn is a lot to work through. I'm sure you'll get through to her eventually, though; you seem a sweet enough lass, and what with what you've both saw yesterday…"
Something about what she just said didn't seem to add up: according to this woman, Catriona was, in fact, nineteen. Maybe that was plausible; calendars weren't the most common of objects aboard pirate ships. But moving on… "Are you referring to the blood?" she asked sharply.
"Aye, that and the monster you saw in the town." How could she have known about that!
"Why didn't you tell young Cat here about it?" she asked gently. "I know she would have appreciated it if ye did…"
"No, she would have thought I was insane if I did," Elizabeth corrected sharply. "Anyone would…"
"She would have been relieved," the anonymous woman firmly insisted. "She'd have been glad to know she wasn't the only that always saw demons and angels and whate'er's in between."
Elizabeth kept her brown eyes firmly on a bunch of grapes.
"I stopped seeing them shortly after I arrived in Port Royal," she said softly, trustingly, "and I'd never thought of them since. I'd always thought they were childish flights of fancy, illusions created by an infantile mind…"
"They were real, are real," the woman said. "Creatures trying to scare both you and Catriona out of your wits, because they know you both can hurt them."
Elizabeth closed her eyes in confusion. She knew there was something strange about Catriona… She knew that because she possessed the same inhuman ability herself.
"There's a lot more to your powers than just seeing things, Miss Swann," the wise woman said. "But I can't actually tell you what; I don't even know myself." She stopped, frowning. "But I'll tell you this," she continued, "without going into too much detail: you have your Mr Turner to thank for that, and Catriona…"
The girl stirred, groaning ever so slightly.
"Catriona has Jack Sparrow to appreciate, although this entire affair's both their fault…" And she suddenly stopped her explanation.
There was a knock on the door.
x!x-x!x-
Jack had left a panicked William fretting over the misplacement of his future spouse and an eye-rolling Bootstrap in the Faithful Bride to pay for breakfast when Erik had approached him with his dark, mysterious, peg-legged younger brother that Jack had often resented following him: Ville. Raven-haired, golden-eyed and unnaturally pale-skinned, he was what Jack would class as 'disturbing' and what women swooned over as 'mysterious'.
"Good morning, Jack," Erik greeted gleefully, "the sky rained blood last night. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Maybe for some," Jack replied distractedly, looking pointedly at a certain Scandinavian brunet.
"It's wonderful to see you once again after all this time, Sparrow," Ville acknowledged politely.
"Captain," Jack corrected arrogantly.
"Ah yes, after ten years of carrying that title, you finally find a ship to match," Ville remarked.
"The technical term is 'retrieve'."
"Jack," Bill had cut in, "might you be so kind as to introduce us?"
"With, pleasure, Bootstrap," Jack replied smoothly. "Erik von Strausviczt, please meet Bill Turner and his son, William. Oh, and that's Ville, Erik's little brother."
"The sky was bleeding last night," Erik insisted. "Now all we need is to get that damned scroll translated."
"What scroll?" Bill asked sharply.
"Oh, an encrypted scroll of the city of Thebes leading to a Viking-cursed treasure," Jack explained.
"But Thebes is in Africa," Bill pointed out.
"It's a treasure hoard of international proportions, Bootstrap," Jack reminded irritably. "Let it go."
"Fine," he said in disgust of inaccurate history and geography. "But Thebes and Vikings just aren't connected…"
"Bill…"
He raised his hands in defence. "Consider the matter dropped."
"That's very kind of you," Jack said, standing. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've a gypsy crone to threaten." And that was when the two Dutchmen and pirate left.
The walk to the hut atop of the hill was quite peaceful, low insults and meticulously-disguised barbs aside. Standing in front of the small shabby door, Erik knocked sharply upon the wood.
The door was opened by a thin elderly woman with wavy black hair and inquisitive green eyes. "Oh God, not you again," she groaned on spying Erik's cheerful face.
"I'm afraid so," Jack quipped, lip raised in a smirk.
"Jack?" a familiar female voice asked in disbelief. As if in confirmation, Elizabeth's pretty face appeared behind the old crone, clad in only a lacy white shift.
"Please come in," the gypsy woman said wearily, stepping back to allow all three men entrance to her humble abode.
As the door shut behind him, Jack scanned the single large room whilst making a passing comment to Elizabeth. "The eunuch's looking for you," he said whilst the gypsy pulled out three of the four chairs situated around a scrubbed table.
Then his eyes fell upon the bed in the corner. His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise at seeing her in such a vulnerable state at such an unexpected time.
Perhaps this would be that happy day…
x!x-
AN: I know that was just sleazy, but I've just realized sleaze was amusing, and I had to had some 'romantic' developments in there one way or another…
Jess and Amy: For God's sake, if you're going to communicate, can you at least do it the normal way, with telephones and email! DON'T SEND ME FALSE REVIEWS!
