With a startling tremor Killian realized the ship was hovering just above the murky still water, its crew appeared to be skeletons adorned in oversized outdated naval uniforms that hung loosely on them and they communicated in a sort of grunts, groans and incoherent noises to one another slowly ambling along the deck. His eyes fell to his elder brother whose skin had taken a pallor shade, his eyes wide and his hand was shaking as it extended his sword. When their eyes met, Liam gave him a poor brief attempt at a smile that was supposed to be reassuring but failed miserably. His big brother was petrified.
The Captain appeared to be the only member of the crew that wasn't a skeleton. He didn't exactly look alive either, his skin had a deathly grayish look to it, and his eyes had a glassy unfocused appearance to them. He sauntered upon the plank connecting the two ships, a guard of skeletons behind him.
No, no, no, it can't be. Yes, yes, it is, that's Davy Jones, that's him. The two voices of thought in Liam's mind were trying to figure out if the Captain of the Flying Dutchmen was indeed Davy Jones.
"All of the realms Papa?" a seven-year-old Killian had happily inquired as Davy attempted to get the squirmy restless toddler into his bunk by tucking the blankets tightly at his sides.
"All of them. I promise." Davy had replied his voice heavy as he leaned over the bed and placed lingering kisses to the boy's cheek and head, for a long time resting their dark heads of hair together before breaking apart. Liam, now twelve years old knew he was no longer a small child but he found himself warranting the same treatment. Goodnight kisses are been infrequent since Mama died. Many a night Davy drunk himself into a stupor and Liam had to maneuver him into his own bed, using all sorts of different techniques to boost him into the bed. Davy shuffled away from his younger son's bed and looked to his elder son with a kind lopsided grin. The kid resembled his mother; her smile, her hair, her eyes and most of all her spirit. "Hey there bubba."
Liam squirmed underneath the covers. The term of endearment hadn't been bestowed upon him in a while. Davy sat on the edge of his bed, starring at him for a very long time before tucking the covers around him, making them tight around his body effectively ending his squirming. "You've been such a good boy. Take real good care of your little brother." The words came out heavy and bereaved as if the man was about to cry and if Liam hadn't been tucked in so tightly he would have sat himself up on his elbows to see if there were actual tears. "Your mama would be so damn proud of you." A few moments passed. "I'm real proud of you too and I want you to keep up watching after your brother. He's gonna need you."
"Of course, Papa."
Davy ruffled his hair, "Atta boy. Atta boy. Get some rest."
Those were the lost words Davy had ever said to him. The next morning he was awoken to the sounds of hysterical sobbing from Killian who'd woken that day to find him gone. At that moment Liam would exchange anything for some sort of telepathic way to inform his brother of the situation but as that was nearly impossible he decided to continue on starring pointedly at his brother hoping to convey the message.
Killian stood planted to his step on the deck starring with his mouth gaping open as he looked upon the Captain. He couldn't quite tell if the man was alive or dead, or if the dagger he was clutching tightly would have any kind of effect on him.
"Have you ever heard of Purgatory?" John began loudly as he sauntered around the decks. To whom he was speaking too Liam wasn't quite sure. "It's this eternal pit where souls go to await judgment. Now I know I'm dammed. That much is certain." He stopped by the side of Davy Jones; the pair seemed to share a nod of acknowledgement. "But I've found a way to make my time much more pleasant. See Davy here is the sentenced transporter of all souls, sailors in particular. He has quite a considerable pull with the powers that be."
The guard of skeletons swarmed around Killian who began to violently swing the dagger around but any of his slashes seemed useless. One of the guards disarmed him kicked the dagger off the side of the boat whilst the others grabbed tightly onto him.
"So you sold my brother to him?" Liam roared feeling fury and rage surge inside of him like it never had before. "Let go of him! Let go of him! Take me! Take me!"
"Liam, you misunderstand!" Davy yelled stepping in front of the guards and Liam drawing out his own sword and deflecting his son's hasty rapid swings. "Liam! Liam please, stop, you're wrong. Your brother's not going to purgatory. He's coming with me."
It was Davy's expressive eyes that had stayed the same despite his near dead appearance. Eyes that portrayed loneliness and a deep sadness, despair. Liam lowered his sword heaving in a deep breathe. "You left us. You abandoned us on a ship by our lonesome with no money, no food, no explanation! We were supposed to see the world together! This grand adventure! The Jones Family on the high seas, seeing every single realm. You promised!" The plea to Liam's dismay came out sounding like the whine of a child. "What in gods name made you think you could take him back? That you have the right too?"
Killian watched in terror as the clashing of the blades momentarily concluded. Davy at first looked enraged, his nostrils flaring and his eyes flashing a much darker shade. Liam keep your sword up! He begged silently in his head certain the man was about to strike his brother whilst off-guard and out of breath, but the Captain of the Flying Dutchmen did something else. He turned violently away from Liam, his whole body racking as deep sobs bellowed out of the man. He lumbered towards the side of the ship and held onto the railing for support. A slurring of incoherent sentences came from the sobering man, the skeleton crew and the crew of the Jewel of the Realm had gone eerily silent.
When Davy seemingly collected himself, he let out a muffled fit of laughter that soon erupted into a coughing fit. "You've got your mama's spirit." He managed to choke out in-between barks. The statement caught the youngest Jones off-guard; he tilted his head and arched one of his eyebrows up, as he began to question the sanity of his father. He'd begged and begged Liam all of his life for details about their parents(well to be exact Davy and Geneva), everything and anything he could recall. Insanity was not a trait described, nor was spirit.
"You have spent your fair number of years on the high seas," Davy continued, "know how lonely and isolated one could feel?" He didn't wait for anyone to respond as he continued on. "You have the company of the crew, of each other, human contact. I haven't spoken, touched, interacted with another human being since the night I was captured-
"Captured?" Liam retorted. "You were a fugitive and fled to avoid capture!"
"All of those trumped up chargers were false allegations by a grieving angered King who lost his daughter many years before she left this physical realm. He cursed-
"Stop!" Liam cried suddenly as he pounded towards the railing. "Such blasphemy you spew! The King is a right, just, and holy man who would not place such a punishment on a soul who did not warrant such punishment!"
Davy flinched as though he'd been slapped. The loyalty to the king was undeniably festering in Liam since his first trip to the palace just about three years ago. There'd been all sorts of other invitations as well, to balls, to war meetings and to holidays. They were honored guests of the King's, though were not recognized as his grandchildren as that would cause uproar in the kingdom. To protect his daughter and Liam himself, Finnian fabricated a scene that would it make it seem as though they had met their demise at the hands of the ruthless conquerors of the North, protecting his daughter's reputation and garnering enough support to crush any sort of opposition to the north. It'd been a strategic move and also a move out of love. A child, George, born of wedlock was appointed to be the next King, something the people felt good about. They had lost a beloved princess but earned a noble, trusted man who would be fit to rule in her place. The king was a just and fair, man.
Davy began to convulse, shaking, twitching, making odd movements with his hands and began to utter underneath his breath, seemingly having an argument with himself. Seizing the opportunity, Liam drew his sword and with one deceives slash cut his upper stomach to his shoulder. The man hunched over in pain, gasping as his pale hands gripped at the where blood was supposed to be.
"Release my brother or I'll kill you." The threat was an empty one. Never in his life had he intentionally killed someone. There'd been many a navy skirmish where he'd fire off a cannon at an opposing ship but never intending to kill someone, merely intending to sink it and halt the impending threat.
Davy whole heartily chuckled, his belly jiggling too as tears brimmed at the edges of his eyes. "Oh boy, only if I could be killed."