The Black Pearl streamed towards the cove, a soft breeze whistling down its sails and into everyone's ears. Mary let the feathers of her wings join in, swishing them behind her. Three more years and then she could be rid of them, back to the strong, real body she had before.

"There's not been a gatherin' like this in our lifetime. What do ye think of it?" Barbossa asked her, keeping a hand on his hat to keep it from blowing off of him.

"Will they choose to free Calypso?"

"Aye, I think they will, lass. Ye forget I owe the witch that much," he said with a wink. "Suppose it'll free ye from her service, hmm?"

"I hope so."

They sat in a covered alcove on the deck of the Empress, both looking out at Shipwreck Cove, so fraught with boats and ships of all sizes Elizabeth widened her eyes to attempt to count them all, the rocky, almost mountainous terrain behind them and the shape of the cove itself reminded her of a castle with a moat around it. She leaned her head back against Jack, remembering picture books of such medieval fortresses with a drawbridge allowing passage over the moat and snow-capped mountains in the distance.

"Ain't all that impressive once you're in it," Jack said.

"What's the rest of the island like?"

"Like a town, really. Honestly, nothing impressive."

She felt his fingers slide in between hers, his eyes still on the cove. All ships should have such alcoves, she mused, savoring both the shade and the shield from the rest of the world so she could pretend just for a short while there was nothing outside the two of them.

"You're worried."

"You think so, love? What makes you say that?" She turned her head to catch his frown.

"You aren't saying anything."

"Ah. Sometimes that doesn't mean worry. Silence in and of itself can denote quite a number of things, really—thoughtfulness, contentment, exhaustion…"

"Worry," she said.

He kissed her hairline and caressed it with the hand that wasn't latched onto hers like his life depended on it. Closing her eyes, she nestled into him, hoping it would take forever to dock the ship.

"Lizzie," he said, clearing his throat. "What say you to spendin' some time together here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, darling, I mean to say you're looking at a citadel, one that's lasted for centuries, hidden from every major form of government around the world. Not only that, but it's populated and frequented by every scurvy, iniquitous rogue and rascal imaginable. In other words, one is nice and safe once inside, and once outside, it's back to the likes of Beckett and Jones." She narrowed her eyebrows and hinted for him to continue, but he didn't humor her.

"Jack, I don't think we would be us if danger weren't lurking around every corner we happen upon," she laughed. She could feel a short laugh from him, too.

"You said 'us.'" He let his forehead drop down onto hers. "So you see, since I've been parted from you by death once before…"

"We said we weren't going to mention that!" she interrupted, twitching at the reminder.

"But I've only altered that arrangement slightly," he said, grinning at her. "And it's to stress a point."

"I have not yet heard any point." To make certain he knew she wasn't angry, she repositioned herself onto his lap and traced his jaw bone, fighting the urge to kiss him only for the moment, but the longer she took in those black eyes, the harder it was to resist. Fortunately, he closed them, luxuriating so much in her touch she wondered if he would purr. They snapped open and drank her in, the fingers of both their hands interlocked.

"Would you be my wife?"

"What?" Her ears burned at the question at the same time a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Would you marry me here?"

"Jack," she breathed, tightening her grip on his hands. "Don't, don't ask if it's because you think we'll die." The thought of it, of it all happening to him again made her ill, and the sudden terror that something might happen to herself, that she would be unable to help him, unable to fight for him. On second thought, maybe it was the greatest reason in the world to marry.

"Lizzie, it's no such thing…well, it might play a part, but since I am not permitted to discuss such matters with a certain someone, a certain female someone," he squinted his eyes at her, "let me reassure her it is simply the good captain seeing an opportune moment and wanting to take it, wanting it more than he's ever wanted anything."

Beaming, she found his lips with hers, their smiles touching.

"I love you…and yes," she added, blushing.

"Ah, beautiful Lizzie!" He took her into a hold, his entire body much more relaxed than it had been, like her agreement to his offer was a sweet relief to a long-lasting torture. Cupping one of her cheeks, he kissed her mouth, her cheek, her earlobe. "Ye really have no idea what you do to me," he sighed.

"I love you," was all she could say, gazing at him with adoring eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, never more sure all dear Captain Sparrow needed was a deep, tight hug.

"I do not tire of hearing that."

"I love you," Elizabeth said again, slower, shifting again to straddle him. Tilting her head, she gave into his beckoning eyes and kissed him. Such a short engagement it would be. She couldn't imagine everyone's reaction. Would it come as a surprise? Or not one at all? If her father should see her now, perched on a pirate's lap. "It will take some convincing my father I shouldn't be committed to bedlam."

"Tell him I put a pistol to your head and made ye. He'd be more apt to believe it," he said dryly. "What do you think would be Mr. Gibbs's reaction?"

"Hmm, mild surprise and amusement. Barbossa's?"

"I'm surprised he didn't make the offer to ye first, seein' as how his yard probably grew nice and taut watching you eat last year," he chuckled, catching her hand before she could slap him. "I have a more challenging one for ye, love. William." A serious look came over him again, anxiety and concern written all over it.

"Will and I aren't engaged anymore."

"What? When did that happen?"

"During one of those quiet respites from all the danger you mentioned earlier." She bit her lip and breathed a sigh when he kissed her again, slower than the last ones, making it feel he were giving her something in it, his hands once again twirling about in her hairline. "I'll be a good wife to you, Jack."

"No doubt, love."

She scooted off his lap and curled back into him at the sudden stop of the ship, more of the crew on the main deck to secure all the lines. Her arm around him, she knew she needed to hide her disappointment in having to rise and supervise the docking of the ship.

"Ye want me to ask him for yer hand?" Jack said suddenly, possibly sensing her plan to get up and leave him temporarily. "I think I might be able to impress upon your father all the social and cultured graces of such a discussion. 'Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy/Can buy this unprized precious maid of me./Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind/Thou losest here, a better where to find.' Not appropriate?"

"I'm going to see to my captain duties now," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Ye don't think I'll do it?"

"Oh, I know you will do it!" she laughed. Standing, her hips rolled back to his, already in pain from being parted from him. "Just don't quote Lear. And don't shoot him. And don't get upset no matter what he says. It won't change anything."

He let go of her hand and whispered to her, "I'm marrying Elizabeth Swann in a matter of hours. Nothing can make me upset."

She carried the words with her all the way to the bow of the ship.

Watching Barbossa pounding a cannonball on the gargantuan, splintery table like a gavel, Jack adopted an exceedingly put-out expression to throw at him.

"As he who issued summons, I convene this, the fourth brethren court. To confirm your lordship and right to be heard, present now your Pieces of Eight, my fellow captains."

Captain. As if he had a ship. It didn't matter, though, he thought, tapping his Piece of Eight when Ragetti came by, the lords filling it with their trinkets like a collection plate at church.

"Those ain't Pieces of Eight," Pintel whispered to Gibbs. "It's all pieces of junk."

"Aye, the original plan was to use nine Pieces of Eight, but when the first court met, the brethren were to a one, skint broke."

"So change the name."

"To what? 'Nine Pieces of Whatever We Happened to Have in Our Pockets at the Time?' Oh yes, that sounds very pirate-y."

"Jack, ye have to part with it sometime," Barbossa said, rolling his eyes at him.

"When we've put it to a vote and shot down that inane idea of yours to free her, I'll tap on it again, mate, just to show ye it has no need to be going anywhere."

Growling at him, Barbossa turned back to Ragetti.

"Mr. Ragetti, if you will."

"I kept it safe for you, just like you said when you gave it to me."

"Aye, ya have, but now I need it back." He ignored the taller, spindlier man's whine and popped his wooden eye right out of his socket, the act enough to make Jack take a step backward, his face contorted.

"Might I point out Ammand the Corsair does not have a reputation of being a habitual truant?" he announced to the court, the nine lords and their respective entourages cramping up the room, although, he had to admit, he and his company brought in the most stragglers.

"Ammand the Corsair is dead!" they all heard. From the entrance, James Norrington appeared, dropping a small pewter goblet into the bowl with the other Pieces of Eight.

"That is the Corsair's Piece of Eight!" Chevalle cried. "He made you the captain?"

"Just giving the title away now," Jack grunted, feeling Elizabeth's elbow go into his rib.

"Listen," James continued. "Beckett knows this location. He has gained control of Davy Jones and they're both very keen on destroying all of you. What do you plan to do?"

What was he planning? Jack narrowed his eyes in thought only to hear "We fight!" come from Elizabeth's lips. Yes, there would really be no choice in the matter. Quite the puzzle, that Jamie-lad.

"Fight? You are young," Mistress Ching sniffed. "Shipwreck Cove is a well-supplied fortress. What reason have we to fight if they cannot get to us here?"

"There is a third course." Barbossa, hands hooked into his belt, patrolled the table. "In another age, at this very spot, the first court captured the sea goddess, and bound her in her bones. That was a mistake. Oh, we tamed the seas for ourselves, aye, but opened the door to Beckett and his ilk. 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. Y'all know this to be true. Gentlemen, ladies. We must free Calypso."

A chorus of dissention swept through the crowded room, echoing up to the high rounded ceiling.

"Shoot him!" Jocard ordered.

"Cut out his tongue!" Villanueva demanded at the same time.

"Shoot him and cut out his tongue and trim the scraggly beard!" Jack joined in, no longer fighting the urge to laugh. Bloody hell, nothing was going to come of this.

"Wei Bo and Sao Feng would have agreed with Barbossa," he heard one of Elizabeth's crewmen hiss with enough spite to tempt Jack to turn and actually engage in some tongue removing, but Will stepped forward, his mouth open ajar to speak.

"Calypso has always been our enemy! She will be our enemy now," Jocard said.

"And it's not likely her mood has improved," Chevalle added.

"This is madness," Will whispered under his breath.

"This is politics," Jack reminded him.

"Meanwhile our enemies are bearing down upon us. How did the first three courts manage to agree on anything?"

"Probably lots of shooting and tongue-cutting."

"It was the first court what imprisoned Calypso, and we will be the ones to set her free, and in her gratitude she will see fit to grant us boons," Barbossa tried once more.

"Whose boons? Your boons? Utterly deceptive twaddlespeak, says I. Cuttlefish. Let us not, dear friends, forget our dear friends the cuttlefish. Flippant glorious little sausages. Pen 'em up together and they'll devour each other without a second thought. Human nature, isn't it?...or.... or....fish nature." Jack stole a glance at Mary, hidden behind so many of their crewmen she had not yet roused any fear or murder attempts of the court. She beamed at his statements. "So yes, we could hole up here well provisioned and well armed and half of us would be dead within the month, which seems grim to me any way you slice it." Mistress Ching shuddered. "Or, as my learned colleague so naively suggests, we could release Calypso, and we can pray that she will be merciful. I rather doubt it. Can we in fact pretend that she is anything other than a woman scorned, like which fury hell hath no? We cannot. We will have to fight."

"You've only ever run from a fight," Barbossa argued.

"Have not."

Ye have too!"

"Shot you, didn't I? Listen to all the slander and calumny! Cuttlefish, as I said."

"As per the Code, an act of war, and this be exactly that, can only be declared by the Pirate King."

Hang that Code, Jack thought, clenching his fists to retain his good mood. Lizzie. You're marrying Lizzie soon. Teague can't possibly ruin that. He listened to Barbossa call upon Teague to enter.

"Se Sumbhajee proclaims all this to be folly!" one of the man's attendants cried. "Who cares…"

A shot rang out, echoing with such thunderous volume everyone silenced. The craggy face and piercing eyes Jack knew only too well would be behind him now, one of the hooked nose's nostrils flaring up a fraction.

"Code is the law. You're in my way, boy."

Jack sidestepped without turning, Teague's crimson coat caught his eye, the long braids and dreadlocks falling against it like birds against a sunrise. Behind him, two ancient men in vests carried up the Code. Giving out a whistle, Teague petted the little dog that came with the key ring.

"How did…" Ragetti breathed.

"Sea turtles, mate." His long, ringed fingers scanned the Code, turning the page once, all eyes on him. "Barbossa is right."

"Hang on a minute." No one knew the Code that well as to find the appropriate section in a matter of seconds. He locked eyes with Teague for a split second before lowering them to check. "'It shall be the duty of the King to declare war, parlay with said adversaries…' Fancy that." Teague gave him a smug look. "Ye know what you're doing, at least."

"Do you?" Teague snorted back. Slightly hunched, he swaggered to a chair off at the other end of the room, ornate enough to be a throne, and picked up his guitar, etchings of flowers around its hole. He strummed a few notes.

"There's not been a king since the first court and that is not likely to change," James spoke with folded arms.

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked when Jack returned to her side.

"King's elected by popular vote and we're all a might self-servicing," he said, taking advantage of the crowd to take hold of her hand.

"They're pirates. They ought to be craving a fight."

"I'm inclined to agree with ye, love." He let go of her and wedged his way through the crowd.

"Where are you going?"

"Wedding present," he whispered to her with a smirk, ambling to the other end of the table.

"I call for a vote," James said. "James Norrington."

Capitan Chevalle, the penniless Frenchman."

"Se Sumbhajee votes for Se Sumbhajee," the attendant said. Like clockwork, Jack smiled.

"Mistress Ching."

"Gentleman Jocard."

"Elizabeth Swann."

"Barbossa."

"Villanueva."

"Elizabeth Swann."

"What?" Her eyes went wide from across the table. Teague snapped his head up and surveyed him. The look of deep gratitude and excitement washing over her face almost made him climb up over the table to kiss her. Freedom, love. Freedom to live up to your potential. The two of them shared a look amongst the wild outbreak of bickering.

"Am I to understand that you lot will not be keeping to the Code then?" he asked, hearing the guitar playing come to a sudden halt.

"Very well," Mistress Ching said, standing. "What say you, Captain Swann, King of the brethren court?"

"You'll prepare every vessel that floats," Elizabeth said. "At dawn, we're at war."

Se Sumbhajee stood, his head just over the table. "And so we shall go to war!"

The flood of people started for the door, pulling their swords from the globe. He saw Elizabeth pull Heng aside and whisper to him, probably naming him first mate, he pondered, avoiding Teague's stare.

"The Pearl will be ready at dawn, but we have Calypso in the brig," Will came to him, sweat glistening his neck.

"Good lad. Ah, Calypso. Tell you what. We'll set up a nice, non-pin barrel hinged cell right here in this cove for her. What say you to that?"

"The further she is from the battle, the better." Will lingered, his large brown eyes seeming to inspect Jack with a suspicious eyebrow with which he was intimately familiar by now. "King?"

"Aye."

"Maybe you do know what you're doing."

"Jackie."

Jack cringed at that name, unable to really contemplate Will's meaning. From the corner of his eye, he saw him already leaving. Bugger.

"Alone at last," he sang, crouching up to Teague's chair.

"So you want to fight, eh? Just be lucky that ship of yours can outrun the Dutchman. Wouldn't want you to go back to the Locker."

"I won't be."

"Now then," he said, setting down his guitar. "You'll be coming in the back with me for some food, real food. And I don't want no guff or negotiating out of it."

Jack followed him.

A/N: "The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise." The chapter title is a quote from Miguel de Cervantes. I stole A LOT from the movie script here, so another special thanks to Fedah and Colozamia for posting the entire script online.