A/N: Please note, this chapter has probably the most violent act that will be described in detail in this story. Satisfying but brutal.

Please note that this chapter has adult descriptions in it. For the explicit version, please read this on Archive of Our Own. If you wish for a more censored version, please read this on fanfictiondotnet.

Birds of a Feather

The Curse of the Black Pearl

Chapter Forty-Four

Keep a Weather Eye on the Horizon

"Sneaking away was a fantastic idea," Elizabeth said as they watched the sun go down.

There was not a soul to be found as they sat on a small hidden away beach that Syrena had informed Will about. Elizabeth reclined in Will's lap, his arms wrapped around her as they watched the brilliant pinks and oranges sunset brought. The ocean was crystal blue as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. Stray birds chirped happily somewhere off in the flora.

The scene was utter perfection.

"I don't care how much trouble this little stunt might get me into," Will chuckled. "It's entirely worth it."

"I'm sure Philip is having an absolute aneurysm right now. I'm already preparing for the lecture when we get back."

"Honestly, considering he hasn't stormed in on this scene yet, I think he may have a few of his own sins to atone for."

Elizabeth smiled up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He bent his head down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Will loved the way that when he kissed her, Elizabeth would always grab his head to pull him in more and greedily take what was hers. After all, he was hers, absolutely and completely.

Except for the one way she desired most.

"When we get married, we should do this every night," Elizabeth relaxed into his embrace if doing so more was even possible. "Just you and me and the sunset."

Will's smile fell, "I'm not sure if that's entirely possible. I'll probably be busy in the smith-"

"Why is it that every time I try to speak to you about our future, all you focus on is how much you'll be working?"

"I think you're underestimating how much I will have to work to support us."

"And I think you're overestimating."

He exhaled loudly, "You don't get it."

Elizabeth rolled over so her front was lying atop his, "Then make me understand. I know that we're not going to have the same level of wealth as I have now, but surely-"

"Do you want children?"

The question startled her. She stared at Will in surprise, but then she slowly blinked and a smile spread across her lips.

"Yes," she said quietly but oh so sincerely. "Two or three. A little boy with your jaw and a little girl with your eyes. I want that very much."

"As do I," he said with a softness in his tone as he imagined their future offspring. "And I want to make sure that they have all the advantages in life their father never had. I know what it's like to go to bed hungry, Elizabeth. My children won't suffer the same."

"Of course they won't," she brushed a hand against his face. "But I also don't want their childhood to go by without their father being there."

"I'll be there. I promise."

Elizabeth bit her lip, "And what if… What if I can't promise you children to begin with?"

Will frowned, "Why would you think-"

"My mother had so many issues, and only two of what – eight – of my father's siblings made it to adulthood. I might have… issues."

Will nodded, mulling over his answer, "Then we face the issue head on and make our plans accordingly."

"Would you find me lesser?"

"Never," there was no hesitation. "So long as you are honest and loyal to me, nothing could come between us. All I ask is that we make our choices together."

"I can agree to that," Elizabeth said, though deep down she wondered if that was the truth. She did want the freedom to make her own decisions. Surely her husband wouldn't have to be consulted on everything?

A heaviness hung in the air, and Will stared at Elizabeth a little unsure.

Eventually he decided to break the silence by saying, "Besides, we know that once Philip is allowed to let loose, he's going to be absolutely manic. We'll just help ourselves to one or two of the eighteen children he'll eventually have."

Elizabeth laughed and Will hugged her tight, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"By the way," Will said, "I have something for you."

"Oh?" she asked in keen interest.

He pulled a handkerchief out of one of his pockets, "You gave me this back on Isla de Muerta. I keep forgetting to-"

Will stopped dead.

Elizabeth frowned, "Will?"

She turned to face the handkerchief. It was the one she had stolen from Jack; the one that wouldn't burn. She had given it to Will when he had gotten emotional over Philip and Syrena, and Elizabeth had practically forgotten about it.

Until now. Until Will stared at it with such slack jawed awe.

"Where did you get this?" his tone was not unlike his interrogation of how she got his medallion.

"Jack," she answered, this time with no fear. "He's always carried it among his effects. I stole it off him when I needed kindling for the bonfire. Why? What's wrong?"

Will stared at it. He knew that handkerchief; the brown compass cross, the bloodstains, and initials SST.

Initials for Sarah Smith Turner.

"This is my mother's," Will couldn't believe it. "I looked for this everywhere after she died. She never let it off her person and yet it was nowhere to be found."

"Jack had it," Elizabeth whispered. "He carried it among the effects he never could be without. His sword for protection. His hat for vanity. His pistol for revenge. His compass for guidance… and his handkerchief for the first mate who never turned her back on him."

"How did he get it?"

"Is that a road you really want to go down?"

A tear welled in Will's eye, "I'm afraid, Elizabeth. The business of my family, it's far from over. Who knows what my father is going through right now, and my mother… there are so many questions I'll never have answers to. Threats that I don't know are shadowing me in the corner."

"You don't know the half of it," Elizabeth said.

She then told him of what had happened when she attempted to burn the handkerchief and the whispered warning of the Seven.

"That definitely concerns me," Will said. "Did Jack or Syrena ever mention anything about The Seven."

"I've never asked," Elizabeth admitted. She paused, "You know, I wonder if it has anything to do with the trunk?"

The suggestion stunned Will. The trunk was a mysterious piece of luggage he owned.

When he went to find his father, Will had left everything he owned with his English neighbor, Mister Adams. Once settled in Port Royal, Weatherby had paid to have Will's possessions shipped over. When they arrived, a large trunk Will had never seen in his life was among the possessions. Mister Adams had found it among Sarah's items and sent it to Will assuming that he knew what it was.

He did not.

But the mysterious thing about the chest was that no one seemed to be able to open it. They had tried every blacksmithing tool, the locksmith, the carpenter, the carter, and anyone else who conceivably help smash open a simple wooden trunk. Nothing could break it open. Philip and Will had even dropped it off Port Royal's old lighthouse and the trunk didn't get so much as a scratch.

"You know, it's probably magic," Elizabeth suggested, "I've always wondered if it had some sort of curse to prevent it from never unlocking. It's always been a ridiculous idea, but now that we know magic exists, it sounds like a feasible option."

"That's what worries me," Will said. "I have no idea what other sorts of shenanigans my parents got into as pirates and what's going to come down upon me. A magic trunk may be the least of my problems and I would have no way of knowing otherwise."

"Well… there's always one option."

"What's that?"

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, "…What if you wrote to your cousin?"

The image of Eveline filled Will's mind. She had been friendly and honest, that was for sure but there was something about her that he wasn't ready to face. It was that same unnerving feeling that made him accept his father as a good man and pirate, but also didn't want to see him in person. Speaking to Eveline would be more than accepting that his parents had lied to him, it would be facing exactly how they betrayed him and why they left him to suffer.

"I think I'm not ready for that," Will admitted. "I can accept the pirate in my blood, but facing the cousin I never knew I had, who could have been there for me all this time-"

"I understand," Elizabeth sighed. "The more I hear of the horrors that my mother faced, the more difficult I find the idea of facing my Skylark grandparents who let it happen. I'm not looking forward to our trip to England for Philip's tests and ordination. Especially now that I have to tell Agnes Skylark that her only daughter's only daughter is going to marry a blacksmith."

"Then I think the longer we delay, the better."

She swatted at him half-heartedly. Will just laughed.

Elizabeth snuggled back into his embrace as she stared at the sun, now barely a sliver on the horizon, "Do you really think it will truly be a long time before we wed?"

"I'll be honest with you, we're currently looking at about three years."

She let out a very long breath, "This isn't fair. I'm so ready to be married, Will. I want to be with you in all ways."

Will shook his head, not wanting the same circular argument. Then, as he watched the sun slip beneath the world, he got an idea.

"Elizabeth, look," he pointed out to the horizon, "look very hard that way. Do you see it?"

"See what?" she squinted, finding nothing but a vast expanse of blue ocean.

"In that direction is Port Royal, our home. Where we want to be. But it so far away that it's out of sight. But does that mean it will never come?"

"No, of course not."

"Right. We're going to continue on, heading our way to the place we want to be. Then at some point along our journey, we will start to see our endpoint. Our goal, our reward. Closer and closer it will get until finally we arrive. But for now we can't see it, and the only choice we have is to continue our journey forward until one day we will see it upon the horizon."

It wasn't a hard metaphor for Elizabeth to catch on to, "But how do I bear it? Knowing that it's so far away that I can't even see the end?"

"You just have the keep going forward and have faith it will come."

"I'll go mad waiting, never knowing when it will come."

"Then the only way to keep sane is by keeping a weather eye on the horizon," Will said. "Keep a weather eye, and someday we will get there."

"A weather eye on the horizon."

"A weather eye on the horizon."

And they sealed their plan with a kiss.

There was a benefit to being able to breathe underwater. Philip had never seen such beautiful and colourful fish and corals. Yet as he swam through the trench – far too long a swim for a man to simply hold his breath – and into the secret grotto, he saw beauty beyond imagine.

And that wasn't just the sight of Syrena swimming in front of him.

They spent their time swimming and exploring, but more than anything, finding excuses to touch one another. When Philip pointed out a feature of the cave, Syrena would wrap her hand around his and guide it to another spot. When Syrena's wet hair would drift into her face, Philip would tenderly stroke it out of the way. And once when Syrena emerged from the water from a particularly deep dive, Philip surprised her by catching her up in his arms and swam around holding her tight as they laughed.

It was a beautiful grotto the trench opened up into. Cavernous walls and ceiling surrounded them, and in the middle of the deep blue water, brimming with marine life was a large flat rock. Philip had never seen such brilliantly colored fish and coral before. It was mesmerizing, a whole kingdom of color he never knew existed. He almost felt guilty at snatching up as many of possible for future breakfasts.

Of course, Philip wasn't literally snatching up the fish, unlike Syrena. Instead, he tried to figure out the spear that they had brought with them. He tried his best, but Philip felt not the most comfortable with a spear.

At first Syrena thought it was a case of having to be so exact, so she made a joke about how good he would look with a trident and would get three times the chance to hit his target. Philip had to admit that weirdly in another life maybe he would look good with a trident, and he would like the homage to her, but that wasn't why he didn't like spears. There was something a lot more brutal and direct with a spear than with a gun or even a sword. Guns you used as a range defense weapon (or at least he did) and swords it was a contest of skill, but the primitive act of just stabbing with a sharpened point, it didn't sit right with him. You couldn't justify defense; it was just an attack.

"Perhaps that's why my father didn't like to use weapons," Philip lazily tread water. He and Syrena stared at each other from opposite ends of the large stone half submerged in water in the middle of the cave. They were taking a break from their vigorous swimming and playing to just rest and talk. Their arms laid on the stone as they gazed seriously but lovingly across the cave at each other. "I often wonder if maybe if my father did use weapons, would he and my mother still be alive?"

"Are you angry with him for not protecting himself?" Syrena asked, her red tail flicking back and forth beneath the water, enjoying how mesmerized Philip's eyes followed the movement.

There was a very long pause, "Would I be a terrible son if I said yes?"

Syrena sighed, "I don't know. All I know is that I am angry with my father for his own death."

"But that was different. Barbossa had the deck stacked against him, but my father made a choice to be where he was and do what he did. If he had just chose to-"

"My father had just as much a choice as yours did. We both could have had them at our sides, but they made a decision… Is that what scares you? Making the wrong decision?"

Philip's eyes were glassy with the tears he tried to hold back, "I'm scared that I will make the same decisions he did. I'm so much like him; what if I share his fate?"

Syrena considered her words, then slowly swam over to be at his side.

"You are not your father," Syrena cupped his face. "You may be alike, and you may bear his name as two of your own, but you are not Nathaniel. You are Philip; you are your own person… and I think that scares you more than sharing his fate."

He frowned at her.

"Your hopes and dreams are that which were his," Syrena explained. "You want to be a missionary who goes to Kifka and have a godly wife and family that is as close as siblings. Has there ever been anything you wanted for yourself that wasn't your father's dream?"

Philip had to think hard, "Maybe art. I love drawing and I'm pretty good at it. Honestly, maybe I could even make a career out of it. But that… That's not a life for me."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to keep holding on to them. I have to be Nathaniel Swift's son."

"And why is that so important to you?" As she asked the question, she remembered her own need for Barbossa to be the one to name her and no other. It was a desperate need rooted in the desire for love and security.

"Because with him… I never felt alone."

Syrena tilted her head to the side, "You feel alone?"

Philip shook his head, "You don't know what it's like to be me. No one does. I've never been truly wanted, just an afterthought or tertiary party, or someone you put up with because you have to."

"That's not true," she bowed her head to his.

He pulled back from her, but she caught his arm and refused to let him go far.

"Tell me," Her voice was low and gentle.

Philip sighed and stroked a thumb across her wrist as he explained, "My parents passed me off onto my aunt and uncle, and Elizabeth acts as if I'm an annoyance. I know they love me, but I'm just a nuisance to them all. I'm not the proud, strong, heroic son or the wild rebel. I'm godly and proper and I enjoy my life in that way. I truly do, and they can't understand that. They don't know the misery that comes with it."

"Tell me," She urged again.

He fought the emotion from breaking his voice, "You… You don't know what it's like to walk into a room and watch all the faces fall. To hear the groans and see the eyes turn away, hoping – praying – that you don't try to interact with them because all they expect from you is lectures on God. They don't want to get to know you beyond that; they've taken their measure of you and decided on your life and character. I don't have friends, Syrena. Elizabeth is at my side because life forces her to and Will… I can't tell you how many times I have wondered that if he hadn't been rescued from the sea by my family, would he have ever given me the time of day?"

Philip took a deep breath, trying to control himself.

"Everyone thinks they know who I am," he said, "but they don't care to see more than that. They all expect me to play a certain role, be a certain person. Everyone in Port Royal thinks I'm going to marry Hannah Woodberry simply because it makes sense, not that there's any chemistry there. Not that there's any attraction or interest or connection between the two of us. They don't see how she doesn't try to view me as more than someone who studies scripture, and no one talks about how we struggle to even make conversation. They laughed at me for being attracted to Rachel Brown because to them it didn't make sense. They were right. With her, I fooled myself. I took her kindness in trying to get to know me and asking after my family and studies as genuine interest. I let that need for someone to see me blind me to the reality of niceties of your real target of affection's best friend. She never wanted to hear what I had to say about myself. No one does. No one since my father who was so much like myself. Even when Mum came home after his death, she barely wanted to hear what I had to say about the scripture I had become so passionate about: her, Rebecca Swann the infamous bible belter. When I lost my father, I lost part of myself that I could never find again."

Philip looked to Syrena and trailed two fingers down the side of her neck.

"And now you're here," his voice was thick, "and I don't feel alone anymore. Your face lights up when I enter a room, you want to hear what I say and will contribute to discussion, you want me to talk about the things I keep buried down inside. You want to know me; see me… Why?"

"You are different," her voice was soft and so sincere. When she bowed her forehead to his and looked up into his green eyes lidded hazel, he could see that she was truly looking at him. "You are Philip. That is all you need to be."

"It's enough?"

She smiled, "It's far more than just enough."

Their breath was hot and clung heavily to the air. She pulled his head down and tasted his lips. She felt the scratch of his untended facial hair and the roughness of his chapped lips. Yet he was soft and smooth and utterly… innocent. This passion he held and had demonstrated over the past several days was new and untested and hers alone.

Much like the burning in her own belly for him.

"Philip," she whispered when they pulled back for air.

"Syrena," He didn't sense the plea in her voice, just the desire. Without letting her say anything more, he pulled her back into another kiss.

She melted into the craving of the moment. They tread the water together, circling round and round as their lips met in kiss after kiss. Hands explored skin and hair and love. Heady breaths and groans echoed off the walls. Syrena gasped as she found herself pressed up against the rock and Philip's lips on her neck.

"I love you," Philip whispered between tender kisses. "I love you so much."

"And I love you," Syrena let her eyes slip shut in pleasure. It all felt so right, like his body was always meant for her alone. "I love you for exactly who you are, Philip Swift."

Philip shuddered, but whether it was in relief or ecstasy, Syrena did not know. What she did know was that this passion he ached to give her.

That was something Philip would not deny. Yes, the experience of love was strange and new to him, but as the days had gone by, more and more he had ached to touch her, taste her, love her in ways he barely understood. Lying on the balcony with her body above his, holding her in his arms on the deck, massaging her foot in the jungle, letting her undress him at the cave entrance. The more time he spent with her, the more his body learned to yearn for and satisfy itself with her.

"Philip, please," Syrena moaned as her tail curled around his thighs.

"Anything," he swore, "anything you want."

"You don't understand. I brought you here for a reason. The cave, it's no ordinary grotto."

"What do you mean?" Philip wasn't particularly interested in an answer.

Syrena pulled back and looked him in the eyes, "Philip, this cave… is a mermaid mating cave."

Her words sobered him instantly, "W- What?"

She looked back at the rock and imagined the hundreds of mermaids over the centuries who had brought their lovers to mate upon that rock. Syrena imagined them following suit and Philip making love to her right then and there.

"I brought you here for fish," Syrena said, "but I also brought you here for myself. These past few days, your passion has burned ever brighter for me. And my passion burns for you in ways I would never regret. You need to know that if you want me, you can have me: right here, right now."

Philip stared at her. His chin quivered as he understood what she was asking him to do: make love to her. It was wrong and sinful and against everything he had ever stood for in his Godly life.

And yet… he didn't say no.

He just stared at her, fear and excitement, confusion and desire swimming in his eyes.

…He could do this; he could just so easily give in.

The Devil would not be so successful if sin wasn't so tempting.

But all men fell to sin. Was it really so wrong if he stumbled this one time? He had never wanted a woman more truly or deeply than Syrena. He knew God had made this woman – or rather mermaid – just for him. Sex before marriage was a sin because it was adultery against the woman's future husband. But what if some day he married Syrena? Would it really count if he was sinning against himself? Was it then really a sin?

She was his.

Philip could do it: it was the perfect opportunity. Syrena was a mermaid: they could not get pregnant without intending to. There was no one around and no one would ever need to learn about what happened here tonight. He could love her there upon that rock and no one would ever be the wiser.

…No one but himself.

That was when he realized that his hands were shaking.

What was he thinking? Was he really plotting to commit one of the greatest sins an unmarried man could commit? Philip did not subscribe to the idea that men should come to their marriage bed with experience. God's law was God's law. How could he ever face his future parishioners knowing he had intentionally planned to sin and repent later? How could he face Syrena by compromising her honour when it was already in such a fragile state? How could he face the memory of his two mothers and his father, knowing he would let them down going against everything they ever instilled in him?

But worse yet, how could he face himself if he committed this sin?

"Draw boundaries, allow yourself to slip up, go up to the line but not past."

He had found the line; that which he was unwilling to cross. It was not just for Syrena and their relationship, but it was for himself.

Philip Swift couldn't do this.

"I'm sorry," Philip drew back from her. "I- I think I've misled you."

Syrena's face fell, but after a moment the confusion melted into understanding acceptance. There was disappointment for sure, but Philip was relieved to see in her eyes no shame or fear that she wasn't enough for him.

She understood why he couldn't.

"No," Syrena said softly, "I shouldn't have-"

"We've both made mistakes tonight. I'm just glad that I found where I draw the line." He reached out and stroked her cheek, "I wouldn't want regret to be anywhere involving you."

She smiled a little sadly as Philip began to swim away, intent on finishing up their fishing and getting back to the crew. But there was still one last question Syrena had.

"Philip!" she called out. She was happy when he stopped to listen to her, "Do you think that one day maybe we will… you know? I do want to be with you here someday. This place is special, not corrupted so much by the mermaids of Whitecap Bay but rather used by their distant cousins in far off Sisterhoods where love is maybe not so dirty a word. I thought that this could be a special place for us."

He smiled, "Syrena, I promise you that one day when I have married you, I will come back to this grotto with you, and then we can finish what we started here."

And her heart flipped as she heard him say when he married her, and not if.

Will, Elizabeth, Philip, and Syrena tried to sneak back into camp as nonchalantly as possible. It was an unspoken agreement among that quartet that Will and Elizabeth didn't ask what happened with Philip and Syrena, and Philip and Syrena didn't ask what happened with Will and Elizabeth and everyone would be just fine. All that mattered was the large net of fish Will and Philip were hauling back in and no questions needed to be asked.

Unfortunately, Governor Swann did not seem to share this sentiment.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Fishing," was Elizabeth's simple answer.

If it was not improper, he would have rolled his eyes at that.

"Alone?" the word was sharp.

"We were all together!" Elizabeth objected.

Weatherby looked at his nephew with the pink face and wet clothing, "Somehow I doubt that."

Syrena cleared her throat, "If you will all excuse me, I have to go check on Jack – my Jack – and make sure he's alright."

Weatherby did not want her to leave – Syrena had already neatly settled into the troublemaker group of the other three he was old hand at – but she marched right past him faster than anyone could stop her.

"Huh," Elizabeth said, "so the trick after all these years is just walking fast."

"Don't you even dare!" Weatherby warned before she could try anything.

A few murmured goodbyes followed Syrena as she headed back on board the docked ship. As she was almost out of sight, Will leaned over to Philip.

"You know she's actually going to check on Ragetti and Pintel, right?" Will asked.

"She's already promised to pass on my regards."

"Philip," the Governor's voice cut through like ice, "may I ask why you and Miss Finson are dripping wet?"

He was honestly surprised that they had gone that long already without the question being outright broached considering just how dishevelled he and Syrena were.

"Oh, it's nothing to be concerned about," Philip said. "Syrena stumbled while we were fishing and fell in the water. I tried to grab her before she fell but only got yanked by accident instead."

"Uh huh," Weatherby neither looked nor sounded convinced as he eyed Philip carefully. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing you managed to take off your shirt before grabbing Miss Finson."

Philip's pink instantly turned beet red, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play me for a fool. I can clearly see that your shirt is wet from the inside out. That means the dry fabric was placed atop a wet torso. So, do you want to answer my question again about why you and Miss Finson are wet?"

"Do you honestly want an answer to that?" Elizabeth cut in.

The glare on his face put Elizabeth in her place.

"Sorry."

"Mister Turner! Mister Swift!" Commodore Norrington approached. He had an appraising eye for the load of fish the men had brought in, and less of an eye for the state of the wet Governor's nephew. "That is a very good haul you brought it. Very well done."

Norrington may have had a complicated relationship with the men, but he did have the grace to acknowledge a job well done.

He paused as he noticed Philip Swift's sopping state, "Do I want to know?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure if I even want to really know," Weatherby sighed. He looked to Elizabeth, "For the first time in your life, you're the good child."

"Not to worry, Father," Elizabeth grinned. "I'm sure it will be the last time."

Weatherby sighed, "As much as I miss your mother, I surely take comfort in knowing she didn't have to endure raising you sometimes."

"Let's be honest, she'd probably be on my side a lot more often than you would expect."

"It scares me how true that is."

Before the bickering could continue, they were interrupted by a very desperate call.

"Commodore Norrington! Commodore Norrington!"

The group was startled when they saw a truly terrified Lieutenant Gillette racing towards them.

"Commodore Norrington," he skidded to a halt, "we have a situation!"

"What is it, Gillette?" Norrington did not show that he was one iota phased by the usually arrogantly composed officer.

"My keys. They're gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"I mean, I don't have them anymore."

Norrington frowned but tried not to jump to panic quite yet, "I'm sure it's fine. You must have left them in your cabin or maybe dropped them along the beach."

"No, Sir, you don't understand!" Gillette exclaimed. "I was down with the pirates earlier preparing them for the trade off. Now my keys are gone and one of the pirates is unaccounted for."

"Who?" Norrington demanded. "So help me God if it's Sparrow-"

"No, not Sparrow. I think they call that one," he paused to recall the name, "…Twigg."

Philip's heart dropped.

"Syrena," he whispered.

And with Will and Elizabeth instantly trailing him, Philip ran faster than he had ever run before.

Syrena had just descended the last stair to the brig when she heard Pintel and Ragetti's shout.

"Fins! Watch out!"

"He's free! Run!"

Twigg slammed her against the wall.

"I should thank that little Lieutenant for this," Twigg grinned as Syrena squirmed under his grasp, fighting to get free, "if he hadn't been so suspicious of you, I wouldn't be walking free right."

"Let me go!" she growled, eyes darkening, nails and teeth sharpening as she prepared to go Full Siren.

"Not a chance." Hands began trailing her body, "Oh, you're so warm and soft. Exactly how I've imagined all these years."

"Stop it."

"Hehe, stop it? Oh, no, Little Monster, I'm going to enjoy this just like I said I would, only now I don't have to share with Koehler."

"Syrena!"

Her mermaid ears perked up at the sound of Philip's shout above deck, and she could hear three sets of feet thundering towards them as fast as they could go.

"Lover boy isn't going to protect you now," Twigg chuckled darkly. He threw a look ,back at Ragetti and Pintel, "And neither are your two."

In their cell, Ragetti and Pintel slammed themselves against the iron barred door, desperate to get out to rescue their Fins.

"Let her go!" Pintel roared.

"I'll save you, Fins!" Ragetti cried out.

Still Syrena fought as Twigg traced the paths of her body that Philip had trailblazed. He was taunting her, not groping and grasping the parts she feared the most, but the danger and threat hung heavily in the air. He was playing with his food and there was nothing she could do.

"Stop, Twigg," she tried not to cry, "you won't enjoy it like this."

"Oh, on the contrary. I think I'll enjoy it all that much more," he laughed. "After all, the curse is broken now, there's nothing in my way anymore."

And that was when Syrena realized it: the curse was broken, there was nothing in the way anymore.

Without a second thought, she sunk her fangs into his throat and ripped.

Crimson sprayed over her body and Twigg's dying scream was drowned in blood. His corpse dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. From their cell, Ragetti and Pintel could only stare in horror… and in pride.

"Fins," Pintel was impressed.

For a moment she stood there, covered in Twigg's blood and the chunk she ripped from his throat settled in her mouth. It took only a moment of thought for her to decide, but then in a final act of humiliation for him, Syrena chewed and swallowed.

To say Philip, Elizabeth, and Will were not expecting the scene they came upon was to put it mildly.

"Oh my God," Elizabeth whispered in horror. She felt the bile rise in her throat and she had to swallow it back down. "Syrena… what did you… Oh my god."

"The curse is broken," Syrena's voice trembled as hard as her body. Whether it was shock or her unfamiliar legs giving out from exhaustion, she wobbled back and forth dangerously, "He can die now."

Her legs gave out and Philip raised forward, catching her in time. He lifted her up bridal style – her arms going around his neck automatically – and he rocked her back and forth making tender shushing noises of comfort.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?" Philip held her close to his body, pushing away the horror of the situation of what Syrena had done. "If anything happened, it's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"I am fine," she assured him, clinging to him desperately and crying tearlessly into his chest. "Now that I am with you and he is dead, I am fine."

Elizabeth had gone pale as she just stared dumbstruck and horrified at the scene. Philip's only thoughts were comforting the woman he loved. Ragetti and Pintel were full of celebration at their Fins finally being safe.

But Will was thinking.

"Quick," he said, "they'll be here soon. We have to cover this up. If they know you tore his throat out, they're find out you're a mermaid."

Elizabeth just looked at him, "How in the world do you cover this up?"

He had to admit as he looked at Twigg's managed corpse and Syrena's bloodstained dress, Elizabeth had a point.

"Syrena," Will said, "do you still have that dagger I gave you?"

She nodded, "In my dress."

"Toss it here."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as Philip so easily just reached down into Syrena's dress underneath to the pockets and pulled out the dagger. He tossed it to Will, Will catching it with one hand, and then Will knelt down next to Twigg's body. He turned it over and Elizabeth could barely watch as he brought the knife down onto Twigg's throat once, twice, three times.

Will dropped the knife next to the body and cleaned himself off with his mother's handkerchief so Syrena was the only one with any blood.

"You stabbed him in the neck when he attacked you," Will ordered Syrena. "You couldn't get a clear shot anywhere else, so you went for the neck."

It was a believable enough story, and one that the soldiers readily accepted when Norrington came down with his men. Who could even think for a moment that the crying girl, clinging so desperately to the minister-in-training had sunk her fangs into his neck and made the bloody mess that was left of his throat.

Philip was in a daze, trying to focus on Syrena and her safety alone. God himself could not pry her from his arms in that moment, and he would not put her down until he carried her back to her room to put her down for the night.

But still, as he stared at what was left of Twigg's body, Philip faced for the first time just how much of a monster Syrena could truly be.

"She did actually eat someone once a few years back. …We agreed never to speak of it again."

"That poor man."

And as Philip stared at the gruesome scene in front of him, he didn't know what scared him more.

What Syrena could do to a man… or that Gillette stared at her, not buying the story at all.

A/N: Oh my god, we're finally done the trip home. Next chapter is them arriving home to Port Royal and facing the consequences of their adventure. I'm actually weirdly excited to talk about the random Port Royal OCs who are greeting the crew when they get home.