Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, William Turners I, II and III and all other original PotC characters do NOT belong to me. All of their offspring and other original characters, as well as the storyline and plot, are (c) Lady Asvin - me.
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"I told her," said Elizabeth to Jack, speaking into his ear next to the ship's wheel. His eyebrows came together almost comically, and his dark eyes met hers.
"And did the bonny lass believe her perfect life with young William had been a lie?" asked Jack sarcastically. "What did you tell her – some mistake of fate made her the daughter of a man old enough to be her father's father? Dear grandpa, that's me," said Jack wryly. Elizabeth's mouth tightened.
"She wasn't pleased," was all the woman managed to say before the girl in question bounded to the upper deck.
"Not that I can tell," deadpanned Jack. It was easy to note that some change had taken place; Madeleine's cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen. A faint discoloration on her collarbone told Elizabeth her daughter would have a bruise there later, but the spring in her step denied any maltreatment.
"Looks like the boy eased the blow," remarked Jack dryly, and Elizabeth realized the figure that had followed Madeleine up from the hammocks was Joaquin. The woman squinted and realized that both had faint smiles, swollen lips, bright eyes and clothes in hasty disarray. Madeleine took orders from the bosun to haul back a cannon; with several burly men behind her, she strained against the metal, smiling softly at Joaquin who was lashing sails to the mast before her.
"Man o'erboard!" shrieked someone for the second time that journey. "Man o'erboard!" Elizabeth ran to help, tying a rope to her waist and diving out into the roiling, dark water. The figure was too far out to reach with a rope, and appeared to be unconscious. Salt water stinging her eyes, Elizabeth pulled the figure closer to her; it was a woman, in fact, black as coal, wearing what looked like an elongated feed sack.
"Haul back!" spluttered Elizabeth, yanking on the rope attached to her waist. The sailor Waring heard her plea, pulling against the current to bring her in. It took several perilous minutes of choking on harsh waves and treading choppy waters before the rope tightened and began to pull Elizabeth up the side of a ship. Halfway up, the woman in Elizabeth's arms coughed and opened her eyes; Elizabeth almost dropped her.
You have betrayed the divine, said the woman, but Elizabeth wasn't sure if she had heard it or thought it. YOU HAVE BETRAYED THE DIVINE! The woman's eyes widened; they were pure, brilliant white, without veins or pupils. Long, black eyelashes framed them, and the woman's dark skin provided a greater contrast.
"Oh!" The woman broke from Elizabeth's hold, but instead of falling, she rose, slowly. She stood upright in the air and extended her palms; a blinding light encased her, the only bubble of calm in the terrible storm.
This accurst ship will see the wrath of Kaôfen, roared the woman – her voice rang out through the thunder, but her lips never moved.
And the guiltiest of all hide their souls beneath them black waves, black as th' hearts what beat inside them!
The world exploded; all the Pearl's cannons lined up in the center of the ship, each aiming at a crewmember. The thunder ceased and noiseless lightning struck the mast; with a terrible crack, the giant post split cleanly down the middle, seared inside by a heat much more intense than what should have come from a mere lightning bolt. Nobody on the ship moved, watching the awesome and impossible play of events unfold.
Another silent lightning bolt cracked the ship's wheel, very nearly taking its captain with it. Elizabeth surged forward in silent horror as the man swaggered unevenly away from the wheel, grasping a post with both hands.
"OH!" An anguished cry rent the air around the heavily silent ship. Before she realized it had come from her own throat, Elizabeth was flying across the ship, ignoring the heavy cannons spinning crazily to face her. Her golden-brown hair whipped her face and neck, and her eyes widened in terror as she watched the captain lurch to one side and fall heavily to his knees. He clutched his side, and Elizabeth had just reached him when a heavy spurt of blood spilled from his wound. The woman gasped; his entire side was charred and punctuated with angry-looking, deep welts. As she searched frantically for something with which to staunch the bleeding, Jack smirked.
"S'ok, love," he muttered, twisting the corners of his mouth up in a grim smile. Then, louder: "You've found me, Beatrice, lass. Come to drag me back down, have you?" The woman floated down to the deck; suddenly, her mouth opened in a soundless cry as she convulsed horribly, going limp only after dashing her head against the iron wheels of a cannon. To the crew's surprise, however, the bright light that had encased the ship followed the now-motionless body, obscuring the woman from view for a few moments.
You have betrayed the divine, said the light, and as it separated itself from the body, everyone could see that it had taken the form of a woman. Elizabeth's mouth hung open as she beheld the most beautiful of all sirens, a pale goddess with blood red lips and golden hair. She was nude except for a flowing sheet dropping from her right shoulder and wound about her waist. She seemed to have no compunction baring her breasts, and her pale-skinned arms rippled with lean muscle. She was unaffected by the rain; although she stood on deck beside the woman she had possessed, her feet were dry and her hair was flowing down her shoulders.
You made a bargain, said the woman. Her lips finally did move, though it was difficult to tell; her brightness made it nearly impossible to watch her form. You promised the first blood; the ninth circle awaits you! Jack, pained, motioned for Elizabeth to help him stand. She almost refused but for his murmur - "'twill be all right, love," - and he struggled to his feet, blood spouting from his wound like a hellish fountain.
"Beatrice, lass, I didn't expect to see you so soon!" Damn it all, he's joking!, thought Elizabeth incredulously. The pirate smiled. "But there's a minuscule flaw in your argument. Minuscule, but present nonetheless." Elizabeth barely had time to register that Jack had made a bargain before she registered that he was talking his way out of it.
"You see," he continued, "our terms of agreement were as follows: I keep my ship, you get the first blood of which I am aware." Elizabeth frowned. First blood? Whose first blood? "I get free reign of my waters," he continued, "and you bring me back my love."
You sold your soul for this bargain, Sparrow, screamed the woman. You will not find it so simple to talk your way out of it! Suddenly Jack trembled; his body wrenched itself out of Elizabeth's grasp and began to contort violently. A slip of air escaped his throat, though not through his mouth. His audience watched in mute horror as a blood-red cloud gathered in front of Jack, fed by some essence ripped from his being.
"Jack!" The monosyllabic crack broke the moment. Elizabeth glared at the white woman and yanked Jack back into her arms.
"What is it you want?" she shouted coldly up at the messenger. "What does your master want?" The woman turned her light to Elizabeth; Elizabeth blinked back hot tears of anger and clenched her fists.
It's of no importance to you, she stated bluntly. It is the vessel I am concerned with. The spirit slipped back into the motionless body crumpled under a cannon. She opened her eyes, stood, and turned to Madeleine, who crouched, bracing herself against the whipping wind. In corporeal form she walked toward the girl, slowly, deliberately, unaffected by the wind and cutting rain. Reaching Madeleine, she raised an arm and gestured violently, stiff fingers curled up and out of her palm, fingernails grasping at the air near the young girl's neck.
"Mum?" asked Madeleine uncertainly, dark eyes polarized in fear. Joaquín helplessly put an arm around her waist; suddenly, the woman Beatrice swept her arm back, and Madeleine's life vanished with it.
"Madeleine!" Elizabeth gently put Jack down and ran to her daughter's side; Joaquín supported her in his arms, his face a mask of pained disbelief. "Madeleine," she yelled again. "Maddie! Maddie!" The spirit-woman smiled vindictively, and walked back to where Jack slumped on the floor.
Your debt has been repaid, she said to him, smiling. Jack narrowed his eyes through the pain, glaring at her.
"I will get her back," he murmured through gritted teeth. "There's not yet been a being to best Captain Jack." Beatrice smiled, her completely white eyes crackling at the corners.
Then Kaôfen awaits you at the river Styx, she whispered happily.
In a flash of blinding light, she disappeared, as did the storm – the Pearl was on open water, not a cloud in sight – the sunset threatened to leave them in the dark – and Elizabeth's sobs broke over the sound of the smooth waves.
Child of Human Love, have you yet to meet Divine Reason? Child of Human Love, have you yet to meet Earthly Concern? Child of Human Love...
Madeleine woke.
Child of Human Love...
Her eyes adjusted.
Child of Human Love...
"What...?" Around her, a series of macabre images floated – men chasing half-nude women – animals morphing into humans – weapons and blood – bubbling pits of tar – horses with men's bodies – where was she?
Welcome to Hell, little one. She felt herself roughly lifted and thrown into a kneeling position; before her, out of the bubbling tar rose a great reeking beast, all man and musty fur, dust and dirt, grit and sweat, and horns – terrible horns of black onyx, shining sinisterly.
Madeleine Pearl Sparrow, boomed the beast, you have reached your rightful place! He roared then, spewing out great and ghastly chunks of flesh and bile. The rotting stench of the wind almost made the girl pass out; she found herself dizzy, with no way to steady herself – no way out, chanted a little voice inside her head, no way out, no way out – and suddenly straightened, finding herself in a completely different place.
This is the Island of the Forsaken, said a different voice. Here you will find all of those that sold their souls to the devil in return for his ever-gracious favors. The source of the voice suddenly appeared before Madeleine; a bat, twice her size and with nearly invisible eyes, landed several feet away.
Your soul was taken unfairly, little one, commented the bat without sympathy. Even so, you must pay the price for the sins of your fathers. This is the rest of your eternity...
Sudden pain throughout her body caused Madeleine to writhe and look down at herself.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" She screamed and screamed, shrilly, in a panic, again and again.
Welcome to Hell, little one.
Her body was decomposing, rotting down over her bones, falling, tearing as she struggled to understand. Her hair was falling out in clumps, scalp shrinking and ripping ; her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, and suddenly there were no sockets, just eyes, and the veins in her neck popped until only a bloody mess held her body and head together, and it all happened so fast that the world began to swirl before her, only there was no world, just the bloody beating pulp pulsing with patches of hair and skin and the last vestiges of life draining away...
Madeleine drowned in her screams.
Elizabeth woke with a start, crying, beating her maltreated hands against the wood supporting her hammock. She went on that way for a while, until rough brown fingers pried her fists apart and put them down.
"Put that energy toward finding Madeleine," said Jack, uncharacteristically weary and gentle. Elizabeth turned to look at him quietly; his breathing was shallow, impaired by the wound in his side, and his dark eyes were dull with pain.
"What did you do, Jack? What godforsaken bargain did you deal this time?" Elizabeth's voice held no anger, no intensity, no fire – instead, it was the embodiment of pain, deep and charged. Her eyes could not hold his; her hands trembled with weakness, and her shoulders shook as silent sobs racked her frame.
"This is why I didn't tell you," she said suddenly, venomously. She found strength in her pain. "This is why I didn't trust you with Madeleine. I knew you'd end up trying some sort of misguided fatherhood that would come into conflict when your precious ship was threatened -"
"Shut up."
"- and you'd never be able to handle the responsibilities, never-"
"Elizabeth."
"- because you're nothing but a vagabond, a rotten scoundrel-"
"Enough," said Jack, grabbing Elizabeth's wrists with one broad hand and forcing them down. With his free hand, he tilted up her chin. "Look at me, Elizabeth," he murmured. She couldn't force her eyes to meet his; instead, she looked to the side, tears streaming down her face freely.
"Look at me," he stressed, pulling her face toward him. She finally did lock eyes with him, but her gaze was flat and vacant; the light had gone out of it when Madeleine slumped on the deck, relieved of her soul by a demonic tax collector.
"It's very bad manners to judge a situation when you know nothing about it," he said roughly. His lips tightened, the only visible sign of his anger.
"You've never given me a reason to trust you, Jack," said Elizabeth. She saw that her words had wounded him, but she was just as wounded by his double-dealing. "When you left -"
"If I recall," he interrupted, "it was you, bonny lass," he indicated her, "that left my ship before dawn to return to your husband and your children and your life on land." He fixed her with a look, that look, the same look he had given her after she tied him to the mast that fateful day...
"I believe it is I who have been wronged, perhaps more so in being denied the privilege of even knowing my daughter." Elizabeth slumped and dropped her head.
"Jack..."
"No, love. It's time you went back to Port Royal," said the man, hefting his bloodied form to a more comfortable position on the hammock. Elizabeth frowned and sat up, facing him.
"Don't give me that delightfully hurt and heart-warming glare," said the pirate. "Every time you're on my ship, something goes woefully wrong." Elizabeth held the glare a moment longer, but it was not so easy to defeat the dejected, painful heaviness seeping through her veins. Jack looked at her without seeing, his brain calculating, planning, running through indefinable and infinite probabilities and semantics, anything that would help him save his daughter.
"Pieces of eight," murmured Elizabeth, and he looked up, prompting her to say more.
"Pieces of eight, your piece of eight, we can call together the Brethren Court and-" the look on Jack's face stopped her rush of words, but her eyes pleaded. "I need to find her, Jack, she's my life, she's always been my life…"
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