I own nothing. Least of all this.

"We'll chase our dream

Standing on our own,

Over the Horizon

To the Great Unknown."

- Sailing For Adventure

Over The Horizon

A coin twirled on the desk.

As it did so, one could barely hear a faint humming coming from it. Almost as if it were echoing some far away cry, a call to arms. And to war.

A man sat watching it, his cold eyes never blinking. In fact, this particular man's eyes hardly ever changed at all, except in battle. Then, they would flame with an unholy light that spoke of his true nature, and of what awaited all those who lost to him.

A crocodilian grin crossed his face as the coin spun. Suddenly, his right hand moved, slamming the coin down. As it slid into his coat pocket, he rose. Orders flew fast and furious from his lips. For the first time in forever, he and his crew were bound away from this cursed island and his devil of a nemesis.

It was time. Time to keep a promise made so many years ago.

And he was a man that always kept his promises.

An old man sat watching the sunset.

He knew he was not long for this world. Nor were, he suspected, pirates in general. He had heard the tales, seen the survivors. It wouldn't be long before even here, the last safe port for gentlemen of fortune in the Caribbean, was put to the torch.

He had already sent the missus away; as far as anyone outside of this town knew, she was a fine upstanding citizen. But here, she was an associate of a pirate. Well, an ex-pirate, but still. And he owed it to her for all the years she'd put up with him to do his best to keep her safe.

As the sun vanished behind the horizon, a flash of green briefly blotted out the old man's vision. When it returned, he could just make out a new set of sails coming into view. Sails that belonged to a ship he hadn't seen in quite a long time.

He pushed himself into a standing position using his crutch. He supposed that was one thing to be thankful for in old age; having only one leg meant he only had to deal with half the rheumatism. But he had heard the coin he kept under his pillow. He knew the song had been sung. And now there was much more to be dealt with than a bad leg.

As the ship glided into port, the old man began to make his way down the cliff to meet it. As he did so, he began to sing. It was a song that held hidden meaning, especially to those like him. And it was one he had hoped he would never have reason to sing again.

"Fifteen men on a Dead Man's Chest; Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum…"

"Sparrow!"

Jack turned from where he had been examining the World of Blades. Ah; Ragetti, with the hat. Absent-mindedly, Jack reached up and fingered his own Piece of Eight. Now, how to play this…

Why, stall, of course.

"Might I point out that we are still short three Pirate Lords, and I'm as content as a cucumber to wait until they join us."

It was Ammand the Corsair who responded. "Captain Flint is dead; his Piece of Eight destroyed along with his body. The second has not been seen in this world for half a century; he will not come now. But as to the third, I agree. We must wait for Sao Feng."

Elizabeth Swann's voice rang out from behind Jack. "Sao Feng is dead. He fell to the Flying Dutchman."

Jack stared in surprise. "And he made you Captain?"

Unexpected. But not unwelcome. Now, how best to use this turn of events…

Barbossa was really beginning to get into the spirit of things, if his speech was any indication.

"Better were the days when mastery of seas came not from bargains struck with eldritch creatures! But from the sweat of a man's brow and the strength of his back alone! You all know this to be true!"

A chorus of agreement swept around the table.

Barbossa began to move back to his original position. "Gentlemen; Ladies…we must free Calypso."

A moment of silence.

Then, just as everything stood poised to descend into chaos, a sound reverberated throughout the room. A sound that drove everyone to silence once again.

*STEP*

*CLOMP*

*STEP*

*CLOMP*

*STEP*

*CLOMP*

"And how, Master Barbossa, were you planning to release said sea goddess with not the required number of Pieces?"

Barbossa bowed. "Your attendance at this little affair was assured to me by interested parties, Captain."

The old pirate laughed. "Yes, I dare say it would have been. I present to you all now my right to be heard. My very own Piece of Eight: the treasure map of the late Captain Flint."

As he dropped the parchment into Ragetti's hat, shouts of "Lies!" and "Deceptions!" drowned out all else.

Captain Chevelle jumped to his feet. "That map was destroyed; the Brethren were assured of it by Flint's First Mate! Who are you to stand there and utter such travesties!"

The old pirate grinned. "Why, I just so happen to be the man that retrieved it from said First Mate's body shortly after his passing. Very. Shortly. After. Long John Silver, at your humble service."

And he made an exaggerated bow to a stunned audience.

Elizabeth Swann's face had gone pale. "Flint's bosun…"

"Aye, milady. At least, once upon a time. Now, as you can see…" he said as he sank into his chair, "…I'm a little bit old for the job."

The color did not return to Swann's face at that reassurance. "Why? Everyone thought you dead, or hoped it; why would you reveal your survival now?"

"Because, milady, as your dear friend Master Barbossa has stated, there be only one true course left to us. We must release Calypso."

Silver sat back in his chair, and watched the room explode.

Right, this had gone on long enough. Silver raised his crutch, and brought it smashing down on the table. "SILENCE! ARE YOU DOGS, TO BARK AND HOWL THUS! I will tell to you now why it is we must release Calypso, and how it is that the map survived when I was once convinced it should have been destroyed, the same as you."

That seemed to halt all argument, if only briefly. Silver grabbed his chance and ran with it. "Captain Flint was, as you all know, one of the First Pirate Lords. He was there when the sea goddess was bound, and he heard the terrible curses she poured down upon all who had a hand in it. But it was he that knew upon who her wrath should have been poured, for it was he to whom the betrayer of Calypso had delivered the method of her capture. And it was he who had revealed said method to the First Pirate King."

Swann's voice rang out. "Who? Who was it that betrayed Calypso?"

"Why, Davy Jones, milady. For you see, he had loved her once. He loved her so much, that he cut out his own heart to give to her. In reward of his love, Calypso trusted him with the most important task she could bestow: that of guiding all those who perished at sea to their eternal end. And every ten years, he could come ashore, and have one day with the one whom he loved. The first ten years passed; but when Jones arrived at the appointed spot, She wasn't there. For he had forgotten in his love that Calypso was the goddess of the sea, and all the changeableness of the tides were just as much a part of Her as well. In his hurt and anger, he struck a deal. One with a Captain he knew to have the coldest heart on the Seven Seas; one upon whom Calypso's wiles would dash as the waves upon hardened stone."

A whisper from Sparrow. "Captain Flint…"

"Aye. And the deal they struck was thus: Flint knew of the Isla De Muerta. He knew of how it was impossible to find, except by those who already knew where it was. And in return for the binding of Calypso, Jones told to him the how the same could be done to another island of his choosing, such that it could only be found by those to whom Flint's map passed. Now, we come back to the beginning of my tale. There Flint stood, watching as the goddess was bound. And for the first time in his life, that monster of a man felt a twinge of fear for his soul. For he had not forgotten who had granted Jones his dominion over the dead of the sea. From that day forth, Flint sailed from land no more. In the end, he was left on his death bed with only his First Mate for company; one Billy Bones. And it was Bones whom he instructed thus: to ensure that his soul would remain forever safe, the map must be destroyed after his death, and thus Calypso would never be released to wreak Her terrible vengeance. Bones swore to his Captain that it would be done. It was a lie. Bones had made arrangements with the former members of Flint's crew, and so it was that, in front of a crowd of paid witnesses, a copy of Flint's map was burned at the Second Brethren Court. But instead of immediately setting sail for that accursed Treasure Island, Bones slipped away in the night, leaving his shipmates behind. Bones had inherited his former Captain's fear of the sea, and with good reason, for he had been the only other member of Flint's crew to lay eyes on Jones. And so, he made his way overland, all the way back to England, where, broken in both purse and spirit, he did his best to hide from those he had betrayed. All the while planning a voyage he would never find it in himself to undertake. Through quite a long string of circumstances, Bones was found. He was buried. The map was acquired. And here I sit in front of you today, the last of Flint's crew, and long since retired."

Ammand spoke out once more. "You still haven't told us why you yourself have not destroyed the map! Even if Bones kept it for the sake of treasure, surely you were able to retrieve it! Why then did you not destroy it when its purpose was complete!"

"Because, Master Ammand, of who I met as I was contemplating that very question. The man who relayed all of these events to me, as well as explained in great detail exactly why it was now that Calypso should be released. The very man that was able to convince me to come out of retirement in Tortuga, and to sail with him to this gathering of Pirate Lords."

"And what man is this?"

"The owner of the only other empty chair in this room. The one that has sat empty for the last three Brethren Courts, not because he did not wish to come, for that would be bad form, but because he knew that to come would reveal his continued existence. And he would be obligated to keep a promise he made over fifty years ago, to Calypso herself, as the very first Pirate King."

As one, all the Brethren turned their eyes to the opposite end of the table, where an empty throne stood waiting.

Blue smoke blew in from some unseen entrance, obscuring the chair. From the depths of Hell itself came a wailing moan, as if Hades himself shook in fear of who was about to appear. With a thunderous roar, a wind blew through the room, erasing all trace of the smoke and revealing to all who now sat on the formerly obscured throne.

A well-curled mustache adorned a cruel and harsh visage. A frill of lace hung at the figure's throat, and then disappeared into a royal blue, almost black vest. Over all of this hung a blood red coat, with golden buttons running from the lapels to the hem. On the figure's head rested a cavalier's hat, the same shade as the coat, with plumes from exotic birds stuck into the side. And where the man's left hand would be, the arm ended in a glinting, evil, curve of polished steel.

The figure grinned. "And Captain Hook never breaks a promise."