Three months had passed Lord Beckett by as he made calculated moves and counter moves. Two major tasks he had no choice but to carry out, both appointed by those who he wished to appease most. There was the King, who ordered the mass execution of all criminals with no exceptions and the immediate war on the pirate scourge. Both were draining tasks, but the work kept Lord Beckett occupied. Then there was Tia Dalma, who wished for the Bretheran Court to be gathered and made to free her- Elizabeth's task, for the time being- and then to slaughter all those who ever thought to keep her imprisoned. The latter had always been a task imposed by her, but it was only now that the time was right. It was his payment for being rewarded so and Tia Dalma was not to be disappointed- something that he was fearful of, for he had absolutely no plan. For the time being, he focused his attentions on what he could do- appease the king and gather information on the pirate lords. Thus far he was successful in appeasing the King; that very day two hundred executions would be carried out. However obtaining information on the pirate lords from the fort in Port Royal was proving to be difficult- save for a miniscule detail that they could be drawn to court if one of their own sings with the coin in hand. Lord Beckett thought this was most likely a fallacy- even if it was true, Tia Dalma said that the lords didn't use the coins, but it was all he had. It was hardly an achievement. Mister Mercer was trailing Elizabeth on his orders and Davy Jones was loose on the seas, killing every pirate he came across while failing to question any, as he had been ordered. Lord Beckett knew he had to get out on the sea to accomplish anything.
Most worryingly was Elizabeth, who was out in the open ocean once more with a band of ill-bred heathens. It was Lord Beckett's reasoning for sending Mister Mercer after her- if real trouble came, she had a chance. At least that was until she entered the realm of the dead where he would have no way of keeping an eye on her. He tried to put her out of his mind. One would have thought it would have been easy to, with all that had to be done. But Weatherby was insufferable with his disquiet feelings of animosity towards him and mentioned Elizabeth nearly every hour. The aging man would question if there was any news of her and receive, as usual, the answer he didn't want; that no, there was no news. Then he plummeted into a tirade. Just that very morning he had done so.
'You promised that you would keep her safe-' Weatherby had reiterated feverously as he paced the fort map room with his hands clutched behind his back- 'and then you simply let her leave Port Royal? Helped her, even?' He had hung his head, ready to deliver his next line just as he had perhaps hundreds of times before that moment; it was his attempt at evoking guilt in Lord Beckett. 'And then you refuse to tell me, a man in the winter of his life, where his daughter is- why she is where she is.'
'Elizabeth is my wife,' Lord Beckett had repeated apathetically, just as he had when the conversation was had all the other times. 'I am just as worried.'
'You don't sound very worried.'
With that conversation occurring many times a day, it was hard for Lord Beckett to pull his mind from his wife and the trouble they were in. But he couldn't fault Weatherby's uneasiness; he was just as ridden with the same anxieties, only he was skilled in not showing emotion.
At the moment, Lord Beckett stood stoically, exercising this skill to his fullest; just fifty yards away the executions took place, sending seven criminals to their deaths at a time. Not that he had to keep too many emotions to himself over it; he was hardly bothered over their deaths. To Lord Beckett, it wasn't his fault, it was the Kings decision and besides- criminals were hardly people. He had his palms rested upon a cool wooden table top as he glanced over a map; far too vexed by the lack of update on Mister Mercers part to even glance at what was happening so near. Until footsteps marching up the wooden steps interrupted his thoughts.
'Lord Beckett,' Captain Groves said, announcing his presence as he approached the table. 'They've started to sing, sir.' He sounded unsure of himself; confused as to why he was giving such a seemingly futile update.
A smile curled at the corner of Lord Beckett's lips. At last, a change in the routine. 'Finally.'
Far away from the carnage that Lord Beckett gave his hand to in Port Royal, Lady Elizabeth Beckett sat on an old cargo chest tucked away in the bowels of the ship, hidden from the eyes of the others. The air was musty, but it was cool; so unalike the stifling heat and humidity of high summer felt on the main deck. It had sent her head whirling with threats of a migraine- Elizabeth assumed that the great stress she felt was also to blame. And so she found herself retiring to a quiet and dark place. It wasn't long before she felt better for it, but couldn't bring herself to leave. It was only three o'clock if her calculations were correct, but the day had been filled to the brim of things to do and she was spent for it.
Barbossa had taken on his new duty as captain, guiding them to a world unknown. His prompt ability to lead surprised no one aboard the ship. Elizabeth stayed out of his ways most days, unwilling to be ordered around by the barking old man. But sometimes it couldn't be avoided. That very morning the motley crew and their commandeered frigate had made port in a large Spanish town near the canal that they would use to pass through the land to the Pacific Ocean. Barbossa had given their orders in a demanding hiss; they needed food, water, and anything else of use that they could find. And so they went; the dirty crew members stalked the streets of the town, stealing whatever they could get their boney hands on. Elizabeth trailed after, leaving small sums of gold to make up for missing items. After the hours of gathering, they were appointed to the task of making it through the canal. This was when Elizabeth had crept away.
'...the king and his men, stole the queen from her bed,' Elizabeth softly sang the strange song from her nightmare as she fiddled with Jack's compass. It was of no use at the moment; she had tried to want most to save Jack, so that she could ultimately return to Port Royal, but that had sent the needle spinning. Even the enchanted compass did not know the way to the world of the dead. So instead she let it point to what she really wanted- Lord Cutler Beckett. Elizabeth watched the needle, willing for it to start swaying, signaling that he was closer than perhaps before. They had seen several EIC vessels over their journey and each time she pulled out the compass to see if it pointed its way- not that she could ever approach a ship with Lord Beckett on it without having the crew kill her for being a turncoat, but it would comfort her enough. 'And bound her i-in her bones...'
Elizabeth sighed and lethargically leaned against the damp wooden hull of the ship.
Time was grinding by, unpitying of her yearn to return to her husband and father. It was all she thought of. What her father was doing- if he worried tirelessly over her fate, pained by her short lived return to him. She tried to imagine him happy, going about his business as usual; tea in the morning as he read through the tasks that he had written out the day previous to remind himself of all that had to be done. He had always read those tasks out loud to her as they sat in the parlour, blissfully unaware of the troubles that his daughters future would hold. And then there was Lord Beckett, who Elizabeth worried for much more, for she knew that it was possible he didn't stay within the safety of Port Royal for long. There was nothing that could serve their task there- not any that she could think of- and if she had correctly assumed her husbands character, he was not one to be content with such a task in another's hands. It was likely that by now, he was out on the cruel seas and perhaps making dealings with the heathen Davy Jones. What could happen to him, her mind had plenty of vivid images to serve as answers, but all made her sick to her stomach. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts always turned to melancholy.
Her fingers passed over her scalp and through her tangled hair as she closed her eyes, trying to sooth her thoughts. A sound emitted from somewhere beyond the cargo crates that made up her small sanctuary. It wasn't the usual groaning of the wooden ship, but footsteps approaching.
'Will,' Elizabeth thought bitterly. She thought that once more he was going to attempt to corner her to ask questions that she didn't want to answer. It was selfish, and she knew it, but couldn't repent for it. How to treat him was a constant conflict in her mind- she wished that she had never admitted that she loved him and that they could have continued on as friends. That was what she wanted now, but her own guilt would never afford her that.
But it wasn't Will who appeared in the small parting in the stacks of crates. Tia Dalma stepped through, holding her skirt as to not get it caught against the wood.
'May I?'
Elizabeth nodded and gestured towards a wooden crate for her to sit upon. She was frightened by Tia Dalma, but the company of a fellow woman, even if dangerous, far surpassed that of a man. Her brown eyes followed the witch as she went to sit not far from her.
'It's nice here,' Elizabeth said, trying to ease the tension that was only felt by herself. 'Well, quiet; away from Barbossa and the others. I find the company of such men taxing.'
Tia Dalma smiled and let out a breathy laugh. 'I tink de same.'
For a moment, they were silent, until Tia held out her hand. In her palm a was an old ornate silver coin to show Elizabeth.
'What is it?' she outstretched her hand.
'De song has been sung,' Tia said as she dropped the coin into Elizabeth's hand. 'De Bretheran Court 'as been called.'
Elizabeth had an idea what the Bretheran Court was, from reading she had done as a child. It was a gathering of pirates who claimed themselves to be pirate lords and held control over portions of the vast ocean. She turned the cold coin over in her hand, examining its markings.
'It one of de nine pieces of eight-' Tia moved closer, lowering her voice- 'it does not count, tru, de pirate lords 'av used other pieces. But it still sing. Listen.'
Elizabeth held the coin to her ear; surprisingly, it was ringing. She didn't understand. 'Nine pieces of eight? What does that mean?'
'In de beginning tare was nine pirate lords- de founders of de Bretheran Court. . .' Tia looked calculating, as if wondering if she should tell Elizabeth more. 'Dey bound me- eight of tem did. De ninth. . . him love me. Him could nah do it, so him show de others how. . . And so, only eight pieces of de nine we need to free me.'
Elizabeth watched the dark woman curiously. She wondered what she was and who it was that loved her. 'Why would they bind you?'
Tia broke her gaze with Elizabeth and looked at the floor. 'Dem wanted to rule de seas. I was too harsh for dem. . .' her jaw clenched in anger. 'Do you know who I am, Elizabeth?' With no answer, she whispered, 'Calypso.'
Elizabeth's brow furrowed. She had heard the name before- where, she did not remember.
'I am de sea, and dem men bound me in dis body so dey can destroy each other witout trouble from me. . .' Tia went on. 'I long to be released. . .'
They fell silent once more, each listening to the waves crash against the side of the ship as it groaned. Elizabeth's mind was reeling with all this new information, trying to put all of the pieces together.
'Why don't you tell the others about me?' Elizabeth asked.
Tia let out a breathy laugh and rested her head on her hands. 'Tares many tings that I do not wish for dem to know. . . what I have told you,' she paused in thought. 'I see dat you are like me. Both live in a world what's not our own- forced to be cruel to see us ends meet. Both love men what we should nah.'
'I suppose you're right,' Elizabeth breathed. Her eyes searched for a moment, until once more she met Tia's eyes. 'I will see to it that you are freed. And when I do, I will see to it that those who have kept you so shall be punished, no matter what.'
'An I tank you for dat,' she stood and swept towards the gap between the crates, stopping just once more to speak. 'Den we shall both be free, an return to de ones what we love. . .'
Just as she slipped between the crack, Elizabeth stood. 'Wait,' she said. 'How did you know it was me who killed Jack?'
Tia turned and smiled. 'De canaries. . .' her honeyed voice whispered eerily. With that, she was gone, leaving Elizabeth alone once more.
A yellow canary bird landed on the crate where Tia Dalma sat, watching Elizabeth as it sung.
WRITERS NOTE
Super sorry for the late update. I have been really busy. Fun fact I am an American living in the UK (if you couldn't tell by my use of both countries slang and way of spelling, lol). I live with my husband and it's that time where we have to fill out ridiculous amounts of paperwork for my daughter and I's new visas so we don't get deported. It's really time consuming and honestly has just fried my brain. But we're done now so I should be able to get back to work on this with full force and perhaps gain a few of my brain cells back! Yay!
Anyways this is a short chapter and I'm sorry but I just wanted to get something out there.
