Dancing with the Devil

by FuzzyBeta

After making a deal with the devil, Peggy Blake hoped to hide in Port Royal and fade into obscurity. But when pirates attack her home, and her friend Will Turner follows them, Peggy must face her past and the dangers she left behind to help him. Can she turn the tide in her favour? Or will the mad schemes of her old captain Jack Sparrow land her in Davy Jones Locker?(T)

25. Chapter 25 - A Roll of the Dice

Chapter 25: A Roll of the Dice

"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me

I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea

And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys

When the wind blows, we're all together, boys

Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow

Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes

Up jumps the eel with his slippery tail

Climbs up aloft and reefs the topsail

And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys

When the wind blows, we're all together, boys

Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow

Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes."*

Will Turner winced as he rolled onto his side to hear the familiar song waft into his ears. It had been a long time since Peggy had sung this shanty. Or at least it had been a long time since he heard her sing it, for it was a song she often sang whenever she made dinner, and Will had hardly had time to spend with her around dinnertime for many years.

He never thought he'd wake up to her singing again. Thinking he'd hear it here on the Flying Dutchman was more than he could ever have dreamed of.

He opened her eyes and smiled as he saw Peggy sitting on the edge of their makeshift bed, her back facing him. Her curls were drawn back into a long, messy plait that fell down her back. His heart clenched in fondness as his gaze trailed over each stray curl that rebelled against being bound in place.

She had never been able to tame it, even when they had been children. She had often bemoaned that it would never be as prim or perfect as the other girls, but Will had liked every strand of it the way it was. It was always so soft whenever he pressed his face into it or ran his fingers through it, and though he knew it could be a hassle when working, he liked the way it would stream behind her and fly in the wind like a small fire.

Unbidden, the memory of her bathing on the beach of Cannibal's Island floated over his mind. He gulped as he suddenly imagined her bare, freckled back seated before him, her curls flying wildly about her shoulders and soft curves. At the same time, her gentle singing wafted into his ears on the sea breeze.

He quickly shook his head as he felt his gut squirm oddly but pleasantly, and his fingers twitched in longing to reach out and-

No…as lovely as she had been, thinking of her in such an inappropriate way when they were in such danger…while he was still engaged to another…

God, Jack was right; I am scum.

He sighed to himself as he glanced down to her hands where she held a large white cloth and a needle and thread-

My shirt. Will realised as her nimble fingers pulled and pushed the needle through the torn material. That's right, the crew of the Dutchman had ripped it apart before his father had…

Will shut his eyes and sucked in a deep soothing breath to calm himself.

"Will?"

Will felt his face relax as Peggy's familiar fingers gently stroked a stray lock of hair away from his face. Still, Will kept his eyes shut, basking in her touch. He knew it was wrong of him to fake being asleep, but he knew she'd stop being so tender the second she saw him awake. It seemed she saved her affection for him now only when he couldn't see it. Why?

Don't be dim, Will Turner. You know exactly why.

He scolded himself, shutting his eyes and letting himself sink into the feel of her and the bed.

Yes, he knew it was wrong of him to want this, but it had been so long since it was just the two of them like this, and he did not want it to end-

Rat-tat-tat.

Too late. Will grimaced as Peggy's hand pulled away. Still pretending to sleep, Will only opened his eyes a crack to peer through his lashes at Peggy as she turned her head to greet the newcomer to the kitchen.

Will stiffened as he caught sight of his father, William "Bootstrap Bill" Turner's pale face, peeking into the room with a fretful glance.

"Silver? Silver, are you awake? Where's…William…" Bootstrap's voice fell away, and his face slackened in shock as he saw Peggy sitting beside Will's prone form on the bed. "Peggy?"

"Bootstrap?" Peggy breathed, and Will was astonished to hear the tremble in her voice.

There was a pause as the selkie and the older sailor stared at one another, Will gulping as the air thickened in the kitchen with anticipation.

Tears pricked the corners of Peggy's eyes as they swept over his father's pale, waterlogged face, taking in each feature, new and old, from the paleness of his familiar eyes and the starfish that throbbed nastily on his right temple like a wound.

Will wondered what she was thinking. Was she happy to see his father? Sad? From what little she had shared with him about her time with the elder Turner, she seemed to have been fond of him. Then he remembered the sorrow in her eyes as she had explained their last parting, and his heart ached with pity.

How long had she spent feeling guilty for her part in his father's fate? How must she have felt discovering her friend of ten years was the man's son? How must she have felt now after discovering he, too, was suffering under the thumb of the Devil that imprisoned her?

No wonder her heart had broken so brutally after his stupidity. She was carrying so much grief and pain on her shoulders already. Now that Will thought about it, when was the last time he had ever seen Peggy truly carefree? Even during their happiest moments, he often saw her face cloud momentarily with uncertainty and sadness.

"It's been a long time." Bootstrap's voice was hoarse as the ghost of a smile flickered over his pale face. "You're all grown up."

"And you're...alive..." Peggy gulped as Bootstrap chuckled softly.

"As alive as one can be on this tub." He looked at her face, and the smile grew wider. "Speakin' of living, I could hardly believe it when Jack told me ye survived, let alone he'd know my son."

"Believe me, I was just as surprised by that connection." Peggy snorted and Will shut his eyes as she stroked his bare shoulder, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Then again, you always did say that if we met, we'd get along like a house on fire."

"I did." Bootstrap nodded. "Never thought you'd both end up married, though."

"Yeah...yeah, that was another surprise," Peggy muttered with only a hint of irony as she stood to her feet, her warmth leaving Will's side.

Will opened his eyes a fraction and watched as Peggy strode towards his father and tightly wrapped her arms around him. The sight might have made his stomach broil had it not been for the small sob that reached his ears.

"I'm so sorry, Bootstrap. I'm so sorry for what happened-"

"Aw, no need for that lass. No need for that." Bootstrap patted her on the back with a sigh. "I'm just sorry I couldn't stop ye from being tossed overboard like that. Thank goodness selkies are made of strong stuff. It's a high drop from the deck of the Pearl."

Will grimaced to himself at the words. The Pearl was not a big ship like the Dauntless or the Painted Lady, but she was tall enough that being thrown over the side would hurt. That his father would have been thrown off so brutally with a cannonball stuck to his legs...or that Peggy would be thrown from such a height when she had been so small…

"So how did you find out?" Peggy scrubbed hard at her eyes as she pulled away from her old friend. "I never told anyone about being a selkie. Even Will did not find out until a few months ago."

"Saw you transform once at the end of one of our stops at Tortuga. I looked over the side of the Pearl, and ye were in one of the longboats squirmin' an' tryin' ter get dressed. Barely ten minutes later, Jack came around shirtless and snapped about how a cheeky seal pup stole his best shirt." Bootstrap chuckled, and Peggy smiled as she remembered that day. "It wasn't hard to figure it out from that."

"You already knew about selkies?"

"Aye, a clan of them lived not too far from where I grew up. Never came into much contact with them, mind you." He added grimly. "Only saw them from a distance sometimes as a lad, coming up onto the beach ter dry off in the sun, but they'd always slip back into the ocean the second they saw any of us lads sneakin' up for a peek. Lovely creatures, they were but secretive, not that I blame them," Bootstrap grunted sadly. "The crown and the EITC have been huntin' any creature from the old world for centuries or so me gran used to say."

"And yet you never said anything to me or Jack-"

"Didn't want you to get into trouble." Bootstrap mumbled, "Jack would've protected you, I'm sure. But the others...couldn't trust them. It was too dangerous. The less that knew, the better. Besides, it's dangerous enough for a normal little girl to live on a pirate ship without fearin' for the EITC coming after your blood."

"That's true." Peggy sighed, relief flooding her.

Will, however, felt a pang of bitterness sweep through him. While he was glad to hear his father had been a good man and had protected his friend and her secrets, his gut could not help but curdle at the thought that while his father had been out on the ocean looking after another child, Will had been struggling at home with his mother.

All those lonely years, wondering when his father would send a letter or walk through that front door.

All those lonely years, Will had been forced to stop playing with his friends and being a child so he could pick up odd jobs to earn enough so he and his mother would not starve.

All those months he had spent homeless after his mother had died, passing from ship to ship until he was brought alone to Port Royal.

All those long years growing up under the thumb of a man like Mister Brown, being talked down to or having bottles of rum thrown at his face, when he could have been out at sea with his father learning all he could from him.

Or what if Bootstrap had brought Peggy back home with him? Then, they both could have been raised in a loving, caring home.

He forced his thoughts back down as the tail end of Peggy's sentence wafted into his ears:

"-he's still a bit tired but I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."

"I doubt that." Bootstrap's shoulders sagged morosely, the light he had once had when seeing Peggy now dimming as they fell upon his son's bare feet, sticking out over the edge of the bed. "Not when I'm the reason he's hurt."

"What do you mean?" Peggy's brow furrowed.

"He didn't tell you?" Bootstrap frowned, and Peggy shook her head.

The older sailor sighed.

"I'm the one who whipped him, Pegs," Bootstrap muttered, avoiding her eye as guilt consumed his face. "I whipped my own son."

There was silence as Peggy looked at Bootstrap. Will could see the man's head turned down to the ground, his eyes averted like those of a frightened dog terrified of being kicked after being caught stealing a piece of food.

"Was it on the captain's orders?" Peggy asked carefully, and Bootstrap nodded, though he still avoided her eye.

"Yes. But that changes nothin'-"

"You say that, but we both know that there are plenty of people out there who'd willingly hurt their children for no real reason. And we both know you are not one of them. You never were." Peggy mumbled, and Will wondered if she was thinking about her father. Yet the more Will pondered on the idea, the less likely he thought Cutler Beckett would be the sort of man to use violence to discipline someone.

At least not by his hand.

No. Beckett seemed a more hands-off, cold and detached type that would prefer isolation and cruel words to an outright beating, though that, in some ways, was worse. At least with a beating, you could always know who to blame. Manipulative men like Beckett were always delighted to make someone else believe it was their fault for everything bad that happened to them.

"Is he...is he alright?" Bootstrap gulped. "He's not...I didn't-"

"He's fine." Peggy cut across the older sailor firmly but gently. "a bit scratched up and grouchy from the pain, but he'll heal up quickly. He's always been a tough one." She added, and Will was astonished by the fondness he heard in her voice as she shook her head. "Never could sit still even back home. Once, he got yellow fever, and I almost had to tie him to the bed to stop him from working. But he was stubborn to finish crafting that stupid sword even though he could hardly see straight."

Will almost smirked at the memory. He had been quite a massive pest at that time. It was one of his first commissions requested of him rather than Mister Brown, and he was so excited to get it done even after getting sick. At the time, he had been so peeved at Peggy for keeping him from working, but in hindsight, she probably saved him from getting even more sick or injuring himself with her firm but tender care.

"Stubborn like his mother." Bootstrap's smirk fell sadly. "I'll never forget the day he was born. Kat was in such pain, but she was so determined to push through and see him. And when he came into the world, he was so tiny." Bootstrap's eyes glistened as the memory swam across his vision. "They all said he'd never make it past the first week since he had come so early. But she never gave up on him. She always said he was born with that glint in his eye-"

"Still has it." Peggy chuckled fondly, and Will felt his chest warm as he saw her gaze soften considerably. "Probably the reason he's made it so far." She turned to pat the starfish on Bootstrap's cheek, her hand quickly coming up to settle his damp, dark hat over his hair. "I know I probably have no right to say this, but...I'm glad you're alive, Bootstrap. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Peggy." Bootstrap smiled fondly, reaching out to pat both her shoulders. "My god, I still can't get over how much you and William have grown. The last I saw of you both, you were barely past my waist."

"Yes, Will shot up like a weed when he was fourteen. Never let me forget it either." Peggy rolled her eyes, and Will smirked to himself.

He remembered when they were children, they would go home after Sunday church on the scenic route by the beach. He would hold her hair ribbon hostage above his head whenever they had a petty argument. She'd whine and pout as she climbed all over his laughing form to snatch it back, knocking them into the sand where they would tussle. She could always pin him down, if only because Will never could raise a hand to hurt her.

Those were simpler, happier days…

Then suddenly, no sooner did the smile threaten to take over his face, did his shredded back throb painfully. With a soft groan, Will turned onto his front and pushed his face into the pillow.

"Will?"

There was the thudding of feet as Peggy and Bootstrap rushed to his bedside. Will shivered as Peggy quickly pulled the blanket away to see his injured back.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, his voice hoarse and soft from exhaustion. "I just turned too fast."

"Still, I'm going to check." Peggy stroked his hair from his face. "We still don't know if they got infected."

Will wanted to object, but seeing her worried expression, he nodded with gritted teeth. No, he would not hurt her again, no matter how much pain he was in.

"I'll go get more water." Bootstrap coughed awkwardly. "You'll need to keep the wounds clean before you rebind the bandages."

"Thanks, Bootstrap." Peggy nodded gratefully.

Will, however, said nothing. He stared at the pillow beneath his head as he listened to his father shuffle down the stairs.

"I know he didn't mean for any of this," Will mumbled when his father was safely out of earshot. "It's just...it's tough seeing him again after all these years. And on top of that, he-"

"I know." Peggy stroked his cheek. "I felt the same way when I met my father two weeks ago. However, he did not have a whip to hand. Not that he'd ever be able to use it." She snorted "The man's arms are like twigs."

"His hands were very soft, too," Will snorted as he remembered the handshake with the man. It was firm but lacked the callouses that spoke of a hard day's work. "Even a pen must weigh him down like an anchor."

Will and Peggy paused to allow themselves a small chuckle at the thought of Cutler Beckett being dragged down to the sea floor by a massive pen.

"Do you think you could sit up, or do you want to keep lying down? I can still rebind your bandages in this position if you want-"

"No, I'll sit," Will grunted, pushing his hands beneath him. "Need to be up for a while.

With Peggy's help, he gingerly sat up once more, taking a moment to lean into her shoulder as his mind went fuzzy from the blood rushing from his head.

"Still dizzy?" She whispered into his ear, rubbing his bare shoulders soothingly.

Will nodded, feeling sick with himself as his body leaned into her and nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. As childish as it was, he just wanted to curl over her and not move for the rest of his life. Her arms were so safe…warm…and her smell…it…it was like being home again.

"Will?"

"Can we just sit like this for a bit?" he mumbled into her neck, wrapping his arms around her middle. "Please. Just a little bit."

Peggy bit her lip, cursing herself and her selkie heart for giving into his request before she could consult her brain. Will always got clingy whenever he was sick or injured…but after everything that had gone down between them, she had told herself that she needed to keep a distance. As much as she loved him, she could not let him take advantage of her feelings…not again…

And yet, while her mind rebelled, her body let him sink into her, enjoying his body heat and the way his lips pressed into the column of her throat.

He's just tired and in pain. Nothing more. Peggy sighed sadly, turning her face away to avoid looking over his shoulders at his back's lean, tanned muscles. He'd be doing this with Elizabeth if she were in my place. There's nothing special about how he's holding you, so cut it out and stop letting him get to you, Peggy Blake. He's just milking your bleeding heart again, and you're falling for it hook-line-and-sinker.

She was grateful that Bootstrap had returned to the hold with a jar of honey and a couple of lemons, if only because his presence distracted her from her heartbreaking thoughts.

"Good job Peg, ye have got that place all neat as a pin down there." He smiled at her. "Then again, you always were good at this sorta thing."

"This is nothing," Will mumbled into her shoulder, smiling despite himself as he said: "you should see how she organised the Pearl's stocks."

"Will-"

"I'm serious. Gibbs allowed me to look at the loot records. You keep things so accurate he hardly does anything below save keeping things neat."

Peggy felt her cheeks burn pink as Will carefully pulled himself off her.

"Come on." He sucked in a bracing breath. "The sooner I get patched up, the sooner we can get moving."

Peggy nodded, her ears warming as Will stroked a copper curl behind her ear, his thumb stroking her earlobe.

It's just a part of the act. He has to be tender in front of this lot because Jack said we're married. She breathed as she steeled herself to start working on his wounds.

Thankfully, they had stopped bleeding, though the bruising around the lash marks was now black, purple and blue. It would be a couple of weeks before his flesh would return to how it was…though the most profound marks would probably scar.

Bootstrap could hardly look at the marks because of his shame but forced himself to help Peggy rebind the injuries. Peggy felt a strange bittersweet fondness as she recognised the expressions of the man she loved on his father's face.

All these years, she had wondered why Will had seemed so familiar and safe from the first moment she met him. She did not trust people that easily. Usually, she kept her guard up from the first, but with Will, she immediately felt a connection. Was that because she had seen her friend's face in him from the start, even if she had not recognised it for what it was?

And now, here we all are. She mused sadly as she finished retying a clean bandage around Will's back and reached for his re-sown shirt.

"Here, arms." She mumbled, and Will obeyed and pulled his arms through the sleeves as she brought his shirt over his head. He enjoyed her warm touch as she helped him redress, being careful not to strain his back.

He sighed as the worn, dry cotton warmed his aching limbs.

"I put it in front of the fire while cooking," Peggy explained, coughing. It is easier to repair if the material is dry. You don't have a change of clothes or any spares on hand…" She glanced down at the pile of bloodied and filthy clothes and then turned to Bootstrap. "There's no chance of washing anything, is there?"

"No." Bootstrap shook his head. "The only new clothing we get down here is from whoever dies there." He jerked his thumb to the ceiling.

Will grimaced as he shrugged his vest over his shirt, which Peggy had also dried by the fire. Now that he had listened hard enough, the rain had stopped outside, though the chill in the air persisted.

"Thank you." He murmured as Peggy helped him stand, the clumsy thudding of his feet finally rousing Silver from his heavy nap.

"Hey-wassat. Whossat? Oh, you're up, are ye boy? Good. Yer missus was worried." The old sailor grunted. "Don' go scarin' her like that again. That girl could barely concentrate."

"You fumble a knife once, and suddenly, you're a hazard," Peggy muttered as she rolled her eyes. "Wasn't even my fault. We jibed hard."

"Yes, yes, whatever, girl. You and yer lad should go up above deck." Silver waved her off. "Storm's cleared. The crew will be taking some time off. Get the fresh air while you have a chance."

"He's right." Bootstrap muttered, "Captain always lets us take a breather after rough sailing. So long as ye get back to yer post quick smart when he gives the order."

Peggy reached for her abalone pendant, which rested on her neck. She had kept Jack's note inside it for now, but she was still nervous about helping Will get the key to the Dead Man's Chest.

It seemed too good to be true that they'd ever be able to achieve such a feat. And now that Will was injured-

"Peg?" Will touched her cheek, his face a mask of concern.

"I'll see you both above deck." Bootstrap nodded at the pair, a faint smile on his lips. "Give you a moment to get your bearings."

He shuffled off, and Peggy and Will quickly followed him out the door, ducking to the side underneath the stairs leading above the deck.

"So you're going to do this then?" Peggy whispered, uncomfortably aware of Will's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close so their noses almost touched. "You're going to search for the key?"

"I already found a lead," Will muttered, leaning his forehead against hers as he pressed her into a support beam. As inappropriate as this was, now no one would suspect their true motives. They'd only think they were intruding on a married couple's attempt at intimacy. "One of the crew said the key was with the captain. So either it's on his person, or it's in-"

"-his Cabin." Peggy shuddered. "of course it is."

"You know where it is?"

"I do." She mumbled, and Will grimaced as he saw her shiver and her arms fold over herself. She added, "It's towards the stern, on the level above us. But it'll be tough to get in. The captain rarely leaves it. He always expects the rest of the crew to be up on deck when he does inspections. And if he's not in there but on the alert, he'll send Maccus or one of his dogs to guard the door."

"Then we'll have to keep Jones from suspecting anything." Will nodded, pursing his lips as he noticed her body trembling and her eyes misting. "Peg, don't worry. He won't hurt you again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, William." Peggy shook her head, and Will sighed, leaning in further so he could press her into his chest.

"I'm not. I won't let him hurt you. If Jones catches me, I'll take the fall. I'll leave you out of it-"

"That won't work," Peggy mumbled in dismay. "Don't you get it, Will? He thinks we're married. He thinks you love me. If you get caught and take the blame for everything, he'll still use me to manipulate and torture you. Even if I were to rat you out to save my skin, he'd still use us against the other. That's just how he works. And…and if I outright disobey him, he'll use the mark, and he'll…he'll" She looked down at her marked wrist.

Though he held her tighter to him, a part of Will was relieved at the slight fear in her voice. If she was that afraid of the Devil's mark killing her, then that had to mean that deep down, she did not want to die. And if she didn't want to die, then…then…then that had to mean she still wanted to live. A piece of her had not given up yet. There was still a chance.

The thought filled him with fire, and the ache in his bruised, sliced back seemed duller as he pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.

"We will get through this, Peg. We will, I know it."

"Why do I feel you're cooking up something perilous and stupid?" She mumbled, and Will smirked despite himself.

"Because you know me too well. Now, come on. Let's go on deck. We can think clearer in the fresh air."

---

"And that's the whole sorry story, lads."

The crew of the Black Pearl stared dumbfounded at Jack Sparrow as he made one last dramatic flourish. They were all standing on the Deck of the Pearl. It was mid-morning, and though most had very little sleep the night before, none were feeling up to resting just yet.

Not when they were so keen for answers. And so, their captain had graciously obliged to sate their curiosity and hurt feelings, with many confusing words and gestures with his First Mate Gibbs helpfully piping in to keep things from getting too befuddling.

"So let me get this straight." Ronan Sloane glared at Jack Sparrow, his green eyes flashing like lightning. "Blake was a slave to Davy Jones himself for god knows how long-"

"Thirteen years, to be precise." Jack corrected him, and Sloane's eyes narrowed.

"-Thirteen years then – So you decided to let her go back to him in the hopes that she could help that stupid whelp Will Turner get this key to a chest containing Davy Jones's heart."

"Yes."

"So you knew all this time that the Devil himself was holding the life of the last selkie of the Caribbean in his palm, and you said nothing?" Sloane's nostrils flared, and Jack shrugged.

"Weren't my secret to tell, mate."

"Aye, if we had, it would've made things worse," Gibbs piped in before Sloane could snarl at the man. "Ya see lads, Peggy was not in Jones's pocket because she wanted to be there. The Devil were holdin' her life above her head all this time. That mark ye saw on her wrist that be his death sentence."

"Mark?" Sloane scowled, and Cotton quickly traced a circle on his right wrist.

"Yeah, Pegs had a black ring on her wrist. Looked pretty gnarly, too." Marty explained, and Sloane swore loudly.

"Jones's mark? She had the mark of DAVY EFFING JONES! ALL THIS TIME?!"

"Aye…that be so." Gibbs turned to Jack, who sighed.

"So…" Pintel frowned "So Pegsy weren't betrayin' us at all? She was just-"

"Tryin' to survive." Ragetti finished morosely. "Damn. So wait, if she has been under Jones's thumb for thirteen years, does that mean she was workin' for him when she first joined the crew?"

"Aye?"

"So…if she were workin' for him, wouldn't that make her cursed an' undead like we were?" Ragetti asked, and the rest of the crew tilted their heads at Jack, who rolled his eyes.

Fools, the lot of them.

"No. Pegsy ain't undead. That brat is still alive and kickin', and if she does what she's told, she'll keep kickin' till the very end."

"So, she's still on our side?" Pintel frowned only to wince as Marty slapped his side hard.

"Course she is. Ye saw how scared she was when Jones came aboard."

"Yeah, but ye can be scared o' someone and still be loyal to them, can' ye?"

"Not Blake." Sloane shook his head. "I may not have known her as long as the rest of you, but she doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would willingly serve someone who hurt her."

There were mutters of agreement, though Jack noticed a man named Buck, who stood at the back of the crew's huddle, still did not look entirely convinced.

"As I was saying, gentlemen, Pegsy didn't betray us, nor did I give her up willy-nilly. If we went in guns-a-blazin', Jones would've killed us all, no mercy. But now, we have three days, don't we? An' a lot can happen in three days."

"Like us getting' to Tortuga-ow! Oi! Watch it!" Gibbs winced as Cotton's parrot Paulie suddenly swooped down from the crow's nest in a flutter of blue and gold plumage, squawking loudly as it landed on the port side railings.

"GAHH! Man overboard! Man overboard!" the parrot bobbed its head, frantically whistling as it kept squawking the exact words repeatedly.

The crew and Jack quickly slid to the port railings, squinting as the sunlight gleaming on the ocean surface assaulted their eyes.

Then they heard it. The splashing of something heavy in the water and a scream-

"HELP! OY! OVER HERE! MAN OVERBOARD!"

It was a boy's voice, an adolescent from how it cracked between youthful shrillness and lower, more mature notes.

"There! I see 'im!" Marty pointed; his sharp eyes quick to spot the shadow drawing nearer in the water to the Pearl.

It was a tiny raft made from a rowboat's battered and splintered remains. Bits of wood were black and sooty from where cannon fire had burned at them earlier, but despite the damage, it was floating quite well on the water.

Its lone passenger was a thirteen-year-old boy with a mop of damp, dark curls and toasted caramel skin, some of which was covered in soot. His clothes, likewise, were torn to rags and covered in soot.

At the sight of the Pearl looming before him, the lad quickly dropped the plank of wood to his feet and began vigorously waving his hands in the air. His desperate face split into a grin of relief mixed with fresh tears.

"Jimmy?"

"JACK! UNCLE JACK! OVER HERE!"

"I see ya lad!" Jack turned back to his men "Mister Gibbs! Cast him a line!"

"You heard the Captain! Toss the boy a line!" Gibbs repeated, but Sloane and Cotton were already dashing to secure one end of the line while Marty roused the rest of the men to throw the line over the side for the young lad.

It did not take them long to haul young Jimmy Labelle into the Pearl. His excitement about being rescued gave him such energy that almost catapulted him over the railing and to Jack, whom he hugged tight around the middle as he burst into tears.

Jack stiffened in surprise but quickly returned the embrace stiffly, patting the boy on the head and shoulder as he assessed his condition.

The boy wasn't just dressed in sooty rags that were completely and utterly soaked with seawater, but he also had many burns and scrapes on his arms and one nasty bruise on his head. From what Jack could tell, the boy had no injuries from a sword or fists. No, these were injuries sustained by being surrounded by cannon fire and being thrown about on deck.

"Woah-woah! Easy lad, easy. We got ya." The pirate lord hissed soothingly, bracing his nephew by the shoulders as he swayed dangerously on his feet. Now that Jack thought about it, the boy looked ready to drop at any moment.

"S-Sorry Uncle Jack," Jimmy mumbled, shivering as a cold breeze blew across the deck. "I ain't eaten in a while."

"Ain't slept too likely as not," Gibbs noted, nodding at the large dark rings around the boy's puffy red eyes.

"What happened, Jimmy? What are ye doin' out here like this?" Jack added as he pulled his long dark coat around the scared boy's shoulders.

"The-the Company." Jimmy snivelled, wiping his streaming nose. "The EITC…we got attacked…they sent two ships after us. The Lady…the Lady…she's gone… they're both gone."

"Both?"

"The Painted Lady and Mom. I can't find Mom!" Jimmy cried out. "Where is she? She isn't with you, is she? She went over the side, but I didn't see where she landed-She said she'd find me-"

"No, we ain't seen your ma just yet. But we'll keep an eye out." Jack rubbed soothing circles on the back of the boy's shoulders as he began to sob once more.

"No-no, I have to find her. She said she'd be right behind me. She promised! She promised!"

"Hey-hey Jimbo! Calm down. We'll look for yer ma. We'll look for her." Jack cut across him, firmly but not unkindly, his entire body stiff as he scanned the horizon line for a sign of a ship, friend or foe. However, no ships were anywhere in sight—just the open ocean. "Right now, we're on our way to Tortuga. If yer ma is alive, she'll make her way there. An' if there's one thing I know about Jacquelin, is she won' let herself die that easily."

There was silence as Jimmy sobbed harder into Jack, and the crew of the Black Pearl stared in horror at one another as the weight of what they had just heard sank in.

"The Painted Lady got sunk?" Ragetti hissed at Pintel with wide eyes. "That tough old girl? Even Barbossa couldn't manage that, and we were cursed."

"Well, yeah, but that's only 'cause Labelle always knew how to outrun us." Pintel folded his arms. "She as wily as ol' Captain Jack. But I doubt even she could outrun two Company ships-"

"SHH!" Sloane hissed as Cotton mimed a slicing of the throat action. Pintel and Ragetti quickly shut their mouths, though their worry spread through the rest of the men as they remembered the red and black painted hull of their old comrade's ship.

Only Jack remained calm and collected, or at least it appeared that way. Gibbs could see the darkening of those brown eyes in anger as Jack's brain whirred to figure out this new wrinkle.

"Hmm…guess we 'ave no choice…" The captain muttered but quickly squashed down any questions as he turned and barked at his crew:

"Marty, get up to the crow's nest and see what's goin' on. Mister Gibbs, break time's over. Get us to Tortuga quickly, toot sweet, c'mon. Prep the cannons, too, while we're at it. Sloane, take this one down below to Diggs. Get him checked out thoroughly and get 'im some food and new clothes an' whatever else Diggs suggests. He better be alive when I get down there." He pointed at Jimmy, who sneezed loudly, its force almost making him wobble like an unstable glass vase.

"Aye, captain!" the men shouted, dashing away from Jack.

Sloane quickly scooped Jimmy up into his arms and murmured soothingly: "Come on lad, we got you. You're going to be okay now."

Selkies. Mother hens the lot of them. Jack shook his head as Gibbs dashed towards him, his face set in a worried frown as he finished barking final orders.

"Looks like the Company is making their move. Somethin' must have gotten up Beckett's breeches."

"Or someone," Jack muttered darkly as he began striding up to the helm, where he took the wheel from Cotton with a wave. "He must have gotten sick of waiting for the whelp to return with Pegsy."

Gibbs swore quietly.

"Great, just what we need. If the Company has taken down the Painted Lady, then there'll be panic in Tortuga. No pirate worth his salt will want to risk sailin' on the open ocean with Beckett's force's decimatin' Court ships."

"An' no Court ships are goin' to risk sailing through the Caribbean to stop him. Shipwreck Cove will be shut tighter than a mermaid's purse," Jack finished bluntly. "But this changes nothin' master Gibbs. We still have a job to do."

"Aye, a hundred souls three days…well, two and a half days." Gibbs shook his head. "With a sea full of EITC ships huntin' down all pirates and the ruddy Kraken not too far behind." He gave a dismal sigh "I never thought I'd live to see such dark times Jack, I really didn't."

"Neither did I, Master Gibbs." Jack grimaced bitterly. "Neither did I."

---

The deck of the Flying Dutchman was surprisingly peaceful, or at least the least busy Will had seen it since arriving.

Nearly all the crew were above deck, milling about or crowding around groups of "men" as they played Liar's Dice and other games of chance with cards or dice on the deck or using barrels as boards. Very few of the crew were missing, and those were the crewmates who were too busy sawing logs below in their hammocks for some much-needed shut-eye.

Will and Peggy were ignored as they stood beneath the shade of the deck above in a corner half hidden behind a wooden beam. Will stood behind Peggy, his arms wrapped around her waist to rest his cheek into her curls, her warm back plastered to his front.

Though she had been stiff at first at the contact, she had been quick to relax when she realised its effect on the rest of the men. Before Will had held her, several of them had been eyeing her like a piece of meat or with a deadly suspicion. Once Will had put his hands on her, all eyes quickly turned away, though some shady characters like Angler and Maccus did sneer and lick their teeth menacingly when they spotted her. There was no lust in their eyes, only delighted malice. They were undoubtedly trying to think of petty ways to hurt her and Will for sport.

True joy was rare on the Flying Dutchman, so the crew took delight in any pleasure, from the most benign of songs to the cruellest games.

Thankfully, however, Davy Jones's orders not to touch her were followed, and even the vilest of crewmates were obedient to his will like lapdogs.

Peggy had to admit she was glad to have Will's arms around her. It anchored her to reality and stopped her fear or despair from overwhelming her as a pipe organ's haunting and daunting melody thrummed through the ship from the captain's cabin below.

How often had she heard the Captain of the Flying Dutchman playing his sorrowful music as she had been beaten by one of his loyal dogs? She would never forget each note blasting into her ears, mingling horribly with the laughter and jeers of the bosun as he raised a belt in his hand-

Peggy sucked in a sharp breath to steady herself.

"What's wrong?" Will murmured into her ear, his grip around her tightening.

"Nothing," Peggy gulped. "Just…old memories." She shut her eyes and sank into Will's embrace as he pressed his nose into her temple.

"We can always go back below deck if you don't like it up here, " he muttered, but Peggy shook her head.

"No…I'm fine. Heaven knows when I'll get another chance to be in the fresh air again." She bit her lip as she opened her eyes, her eyes seeing but unseeing as they settled on three of Jones's four loyalists settling down on their knees to challenge another game.

"So this is Liar's Dice?" Will frowned. "Seems simple enough."

"Rules are simple. But it's harder than it looks. The key is deceit and observation," Peggy murmured. "Hector always used to beat me at it. I mean, I wasn't bad, but…well, Old Codfish could always read me like a book," she added with a small sad smile. "One time, I was so determined to beat him, so I stayed up till three in the morning playing against him while Jack was busy bedding one of his wenches. I think I fell asleep at the table, but then I woke up the next morning in bed. Dunno how I got back there."

Will's smirk softened sadly. From what he had heard of Peggy's life on the Pearl as a child, she had many fond memories of Barbossa. It was odd. To Will, he was nothing more than an adversary, an enemy. But to her…she had known him. And whatever said and done, Barbossa had not let any harm come to her until she had provoked him to fight. Indeed, Will remembered how Barbossa had done his best to stall a duel with Peggy at the Isla de Muerta. Despite his attempts to seem cutthroat, the older pirate had valued the remnants of that friendship he, Jack and Peggy had all shared. Will did not think the betrayal would have stung so much on all sides had there not been a true bond in some form between the three of them.

The corners of Will's mouth twitched upwards momentarily at the image of young Peggy doing her best to lie to the grizzly and snarky pirate. He could almost see her mouth twisting and pursing as it did whenever she desperately tried to calculate numbers and sums in her head.

Yes, Will could imagine Peggy struggling in a game like this. She would be excellent at guessing what was beneath the other cups, and she always had a good head for such calculations, but she could not lie to save her life or hold a poker face for long.

"Peg?" he whispered.

"Yes?" Peggy turned her head only to blush. She found his face very close to hers, and he put his lips to her ears.

"Do you trust me?" his words were so soft they were almost drowned out by the music below deck and the murmurs of men as they placed bets on the game they watched.

"Depends on what you're up to." Peggy frowned, shivering as his breath ghosted her earlobe. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have an idea..." Will inhaled deeply as he braced himself. "It's risky-"

"How risky?"

"Probably suicidal." He muttered, glancing pointedly at the dice players seated on the ground.

Peggy felt her gut fall away like a weighed anchor.

"No," she murmured, trying to squirm to face Will, but his arms were too strong. "Will, are you crazy?"

"Maybe I am," Will murmured, keeping a tight grip on her before anyone could notice the change in their tone. The last thing he wanted was for the rest of the crew to be suspicious of their true intent. "I need to do this alone, or else this won't work."

Peggy glowered at him, then at the players and men about them. If Will was thinking of doing what she thought…suicidal was an understatement. It was downright mad. Almost as wild as one of Jack's schemes.

But then, Jack always did manage to get out of hairy situations by the skin of his teeth…But Will wasn't Jack…Will was Will…

"Please, Peg." Will murmured into her hair, "I know it isn't easy, but we may not get another chance."

Peggy sighed heavily. Contrary to what Jack and Barbossa had said about the young blacksmith, Will could be cunning when he wanted something. She knew that because she had seen it and had been on the receiving end of it for so many years. Even now, she could sense him pulling on the threads of her feelings for him to get her to agree with his hair-brained schemes.

His inexperience and moral pride kept him from being as cutthroat and conniving as the other pirates around him.

But perhaps that was just the reason such a scheme would work. If Davy Jones thought him a pathetic whelp, he would never expect such a ploy.

"Fine…" She gripped Will's hand tight in hers, her fingers shaking. "Fine, do what you want. Just… promise me you'll be as careful as you can. I…I don't want to see him skewer you alive."

"I promise, Peg. I won't let that happen." Will returned her grip, lacing his fingers with hers. He pressed a small kiss behind her ear, his lips brushing her earlobe. Then, he nuzzled his nose into her curls and inhaled deeply.

"Will," She muttered warningly, but Will hardly listened as her scent filled his nostrils, fortifying his spirit for the task ahead.

"Sorry," He muttered, smirking a little despite knowing he should be angry with himself. He couldn't help it. He had missed seeing her annoyed pout after all these months. Plus, wasn't this what newly married couples were supposed to do? They might as well keep up the act until they could find a way to escape.

"So, when is this going to happen? This ingenious plan of yours." She coughed stiffly, though Will could see her ears and cheeks were as red as her hair.

"Soon. I need to watch a few more rounds." He murmured. "There's still a few rules I don't understand."

And he wanted more time to hold her close. He sighed in his head as he rested his chin on her shoulder, thinking about the second stage of his plan. If the first stage went well, then he'd have to work quickly and…and then…then came the tricky part…

And so, they watched and waited.

Several rounds were played, and different players were subbed in and out. Maccus, the shark-headed First Mate, stayed for each round, determined to win back whatever he lost or show up those he could best.

"Ah, there ye are." the gravelly voice of his father, Bootstrap Bill Turner, grunted as he shuffled beside them, his pale eyes gleaming with delight despite the glumness of their surroundings.

Peggy wondered whether they should tell him the truth about their not being married. After all, he already knew of Will's mission to find the key to the Dead Man's Chest. However, she did not have the heart to ruin the older sailors' joy. Not when she saw how bright his face lit up at the sight of them so close to one another.

However, what surprised Peggy was how easily Will lied to his father. Usually, he felt awkward and ill at ease lying to people he cared for. Will did love Bootstrap, and she could tell he was glad to see him. Yet there was also still a lot of old resentment brewing in the blacksmith's brown eyes, which welled up whenever Bootstrap and Peggy talked or the older sailor spoke of his late wife, Katherine.

Yet the more she dwelled on it, Peggy could not blame Will for his bitterness.

Despite his dismal fate, Bootstrap had left his only son behind to struggle with poverty and the death of his mother. On top of that, while the man was away, he was helping look after another child. That must have felt like a massive slap in Will's face. Peggy was surprised he did not feel so bitter towards her for her friendship with his father.

"Wonderin' how it's played." Bootstrap nodded at Maccus and the two new players on the floor, the former most crying out as he called another player's bluff.

"I understand," Will murmured. "It's a game of deception, but your bet includes all the dice, not just your own. What are they wagering?"

"The only thing we have. Years of service." Bootstrap shrugged sadly, and Peggy grimaced as Maccus cried out in defeat after seeing the other player's dice and his folly.

Of course, it made sense, Peggy thought glumly. None of the crew could leave or spend time on land in their cursed forms, so money was useless to them. Food was not allowed to be bet upon; she remembered that from her last stay aboard the Dutchman, which left time as the only currency worth its weight in gold.

"So any crewmember can be challenged?" Will asked, and Peggy sucked in a deep breath, her heart hammering as she recognised the hardening in Will's tone and the stiffening of his chest behind his back as he straightened up.

"Aye?" Bootstrap frowned.

There was a pause in which Peggy felt Will's hand squeeze her own as he pressed a small kiss to the side of her head in a silent attempt at an apology before he squared his shoulders and raised his voice.

"Then I challenge Davy Jones."

All eyes turned to Will, some in horror, some in awe, all in shock. Even Bootstrap was surprised.

Peggy was the only one who was not surprised, though her face went pale as the swelling music from within the ship stopped so sharply that it almost stung her ears.

For a moment, Will thought his plan had not worked, and the men would laugh at him for his foolishness.

But then they heard it.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Peggy looked up and shivered as she saw the sea flora and fauna growing on the ship shrink and curl into itself as every thud of the boards above made the wood judder.

Then the footsteps got louder and faster as they lowered the stairs to the port side.

Now, the crew began to laugh. It was not hearty or jeering. It started as a wicked little snigger that caught on swiftly to other men before they all devolved into cackles of malevolence as the shadow of Davy Jones loomed over the deck, his form briefly illuminated by a stray flash of lightning.

"I accept, mate." The sunken devil sneered, and Peggy gripped Will's hand tighter.

Oh god, now there's no turning back. She gulped as Will whispered in her ear:

"Everything will be fine. Trust me."

"I do." She breathed, her terrified gaze fixed on Jones as he stalked to their level. "It's him I don't trust."

Will frowned at her as she reached down her shirt, pulled out a small canvas pouch and shoved it into his grip.

To his surprise, Will quickly looked inside and saw a set of six-sided dice made from bleached white whalebone.

"Tia Dalma gave them to me," she mumbled. "Don't lose them."

"I won't" Will nodded as he gave her one last small peck on the head before detaching himself from her. Whatever he had become, Jones was and had always been a fearsome and deadly pirate. He had not survived this long by being a fool or letting himself be fooled easily.

"Whatever happens, don't let her intervene," Will whispered to his father, who nodded and quickly shuffled to stand with Peggy. Bootstrap put an arm around her shoulder to brace and hold her still. However, she could see his nerves in his pale eyes as they both watched Will be strongarmed to sit on a barrel. At the same time, the crew set up a makeshift table made from a wooden crate, with another couple of barrels for seats so Will and the captain could sit comfortably.

Will watched someone shove a cup onto the table before him, then carefully removed Peggy's dice from their satchel. He then noticed that instead of a single dot on the "one" face, there was a small, inked carving of a crab.

Will felt like he had seen this symbol before…was it at Tia Dalma's? She did have a lot of crab-themed ornaments around that crowded shack. Her scrying 'dice' were made from crab claws, and her silver musical box was shaped like a crab…

For some reason, he had a feeling it was important…

However, he forced himself to squash down such thoughts for later as Davy Jones stormed up to him, proud and tall. To Will's relief, his father pulled Peggy back to stand at the edge of the spectators, pulling her terrified form as far away from the sunken devil as they could as the crowd around them pressed in.

"I wager everything I own." Will stared coldly at Davy Jones, who scoffed and rolled his eyes as he sat down and had Maccus hand a set of dice to him.

"I only bet on what's dearest to a man's heart. Else, there's no way to tell when he's bluffing. What a man is willing to risk or not to risk" The Devil smirked in Peggy's direction, his eyes twinkling in derisive pleasure as she looked down at her toes. "That's a measure of his soul."

There was the soft 'plink' as his tentacled index finger let the dice in his hand fall one by one into the cup.

"I wager a hundred years of service."

"No." Bootstrap gasped, and now it was Peggy's turn to grab her old friend to stop him from balking forward.

"Against your freedom?" Jones sneered.

"Against my father's freedom." Will put Peggys' dice into his cup and began to shake them.

There was a pause as many eyebrows rose. A few eyes turned to Peggy, who avoided them all.

They had all expected Will to free her first since they were supposed to be married. And yet he had chosen his father?

Peggy, however, was not surprised. Whatever Will said and did towards her, Bootstrap was his father. His flesh and blood. Besides, the woman Will loved and claimed he would "die for" was safely tucked away in another cell across the ocean. He could hold and kiss Peggy and claim to care about her all he wished, but he would always run back to Elizabeth at the end of the day. That was the harsh truth of it.

She felt her chest sting as another tiny fragment of the selkie bond broke off. However, Peggy was so used to the pain that it hardly registered. It seemed almost commonplace now.

"Agreed," Jones smirked as he glanced back over his shoulder at Bootstrap and then to Peggy, his gaze lingering on her as he lit his pipe and took a long drag, using his tentacled beard to hold the pipe while his hand shook his dice in his cup.

Peggy almost felt the tremors of the two mugs hitting the board. The players' gazes were heated and intense as they carefully raised their mugs to look at their dice beneath. Peggy felt her heart hammer in her ears as she watched Will's expression.

He was calm, though he grimaced and carefully rubbed his chest for some reason. God, she hoped his wounds were not infected.

"Two threes," Will grunted, his voice low as he forced himself to look Jones in the eye.

"Hmph! You're a desperate man." Jones sneered as he took another drag of his smoking pipe. "What is the cause? It can only be a woman. Three-threes."

"A woman need not cause you to be desperate. If you choose the right woman." Will clipped, glancing at Peggy. Despite the direness of the situation, she blushed at the intensity of his brown eyes as he held her gaze and said: "Four threes."

"Tch! And ye believe she be that right woman? That selkie she-devil that lied and cheated her way to survive." Jones spat bitterly. "Ha. No matter what the two of ye do, yer fate is ter be married to this ship boy.

"I choose my own fate," Will responded calmly, forcing himself to glare at Jones.

"Then it wouldn't be fate, would it?" The devil sneered. "Five threes."

He's way too comfortable. He can't have five or six threes. Peggy mused as she glanced at Will's face. Despite the Devil's taunts, he had yet to lose his cool. He hadn't yet gotten that tick in his neck or forehead that belied his nerves.

It's more likely there are five or six of a higher face on the table. Most likely five-fives or five-sixes. That's why he started at such a low number.

"Five sixes," Will responded, and Peggy bit her lip as Jones chuckled and growled:

"Liar!"

Will sucked in a deep breath as he and Jones reached forth and pulled up their cups.

"Five sixes." One of the crew muttered, and Peggy sighed in relief as she caught sight of the four sixes under Will's cup, with the lone three, while Jones's black dice only had one six and four threes.

Many eyes turned to Bootstrap Bill, who gazed down at the dice with watering eyes filled with awe and amazement, barely heeding his Captain's presence as the latter snuffed out his smoking pipe on his claw hand.

"Well done, Master Turner." Jones nodded, and to Peggy's surprise, the old devil seemed quite impressed with the young man. Then again, the stakes were relatively low, and the loss was hardly a blow for the Dutchman's Captain. Bootstrap was an older sailor with more experience, but Will was younger, a talented blacksmith and could provide more entertainment if Jones tortured her.

"I'm free, Jones," Bootstrap whispered to the captain, who sniffed but stayed silent as he stalked away. Despite his grace in the face of loss, he still had some pride.

"Another game?"

Peggy bit her lip as Will's words caused the captain to halt.

"Ye can't beat the devil twice, son." Davy Jones clipped warningly, but Peggy could see the gleam in Will's eyes.

"Then why are you walking away?"

There was a bone-numbing silence as the crew sucked in sharp breaths of horror and awe at Will's daring. Yet, unlike when he first challenged the captain, there were no sniggers or chortles. Only the hammering of hearts and the gulps of nerves as Jones's growl almost melted into the thunder that rolled ahead.

Peggy shivered as she saw the Devil's pale eyes flash in the light of a bolt of lightning. Now Will had well and truly stuck his foot into it.

She knew she had promised to stay out of it but drew closer to the blacksmith's side, grabbing his arm. She could not tell what terrified her more, the thought of losing Will or the familiar urge to run and hide from Jones as he wheeled around and stalked back towards them, his expression seething.

"The stakes?" Jones spat.

"My soul," Will stated bluntly. "An eternity of servitude."

"Will!" Peggy's eyes bulged. She knew he said his plan was suicidal, but this was too much.

Even Bootstrap seemed to think so, for he, too, looked horrified as he gasped:

"No!"

The only one not horrified was Jones, who looked mightily pleased with Peggy and Bootstrap's struggle as he hissed:

"Against?"

"Against Peggy's freedom." Will scowled, and the devil's lips curled down instantly.

"No," Jones spat. "Yer woman made a deal with me, boy! And when we made that deal, she agreed it was non-negotiable. Ain't that right, lass?" his glower now turning on Peggy, who shrank into Will's side on autopilot.

"She was only a child when she made that deal." Will snapped at Jones, gently pushing Peggy behind him to shield her from the demon's stare.

"Aye, she was," Jones admitted without remorse or pity. "But selkies ain't bound by the same laws as mankind. Once they give their word, they are bound to it, and if their word is broken by them or another, it breaks them. Would you risk breaking the woman you love for another roll of the die?"

Will felt the fire in his chest grow at the taunt but sucked in a deep breath to soothe himself as he turned to Peggy and asked:

"Is it truly non-negotiable?"

She nodded mutely, cursing herself as she tried and failed to speak. She could open her mouth, but the words got caught in her throat whenever she felt like pushing a sound out. Gods, she hated how pathetic she was. But she could not help it. There were too many memories…too many beatings…and yet, a piece of her, a stubborn, angry piece of her, knew she could not just sit around and watch anymore. She had to do something.

But her feet couldn't even move. They were stuck there as Will returned to Jones and reached into his belt for a scrap of cloth.

"Fine then. If I can't barter her freedom, then I want this."

Will threw the cloth to the table and sneered:

"What was it you said about that which is dearest to a man's heart?"

There was a pause as Jones cautiously reached out with a tentacled finger to pick up the cloth, opening it to look at the now familiar drawing of the ancient key.

The rest of the Flying Dutchman's crew drew back in alarm, and many whispers and mutters spread amongst them. They looked worriedly at their captain as he threw the cloth on the table as if the material had burned his slimy skin.

When he looked at Will, Peggy drew back in alarm. She had never seen the devil so rattled. He was trembling in shock, and when he spoke, his voice was nearly a hurried whisper:

"How do ye know of the key?"

"That's not part of the game now, is it?" Will smirked as he sat back down; his eyes remained fixed on Davy Jones for his reaction. "You can still walk away."

Will stiffened as he felt Peggy give his shoulder two small squeezes. At first, he wanted to shrug her off; after all, she had promised not to interfere. But then he peeked at her from the corner of his eye and saw her watching Jones closely, gauging every tiny micro-expression piece by piece.

For the first time since arriving on this ship, she did not seem afraid of its deadly captain. She looked eerily as calm and shrewd as her father, Cutler Beckett when he assessed a manifest or report.

Will followed her gaze and looked closer at the captain of the Flying Dutchman. Though Davy Jones had been surprised, there was still an air of danger around him. Indeed, the threat had only heightened from how his crew shifted anxiously around them.

Carefully, Will schooled his expression back to neutrality and reached up to pry her hand from his shoulder. He did his best to keep the motion as casual as possible, not meeting her eye as if dismissing her without care but surreptitiously returning the squeeze of her fingers to show he had heeded her warning.

Peggy was right, now was not the time to get too cocky. Even when a beast was backed into a corner, it still had teeth and claws…or tentacles in Jones's case.

Will watched as the tentacles on Jones's 'beard' slid apart to reveal a long braided black chord and a thin iron ring on which two keys hung, their surfaces catching the light.

The first was a solid silver key with a grip moulded into a clamshell shape and a three-pronged pin that looked like a trident. Will felt Peggy stiffen behind him immediately and knew what it must mean. However, as he beheld the second key, he kept a blank face as possible.

The second key was made from black iron and shaped exactly like the drawing of the key from the cloth. It had a circular pin and a split gnarled pin at the end. Despite its great age, it looked bizarrely tiny and unimpressive in person, especially compared to the ornate and pretty silver key that hung next to it. And yet, he could almost feel something shift around him…not the wind, but something else unseen. He was unsure how, but the heaviness in the air felt similar to when he entered Tia Dalma's shack.

To think so much would hinge on such an unassuming piece of metalwork. Will frowned.

There was magic around that black key; he was sure of it… magic he, for some reason, felt drawn to. Even now, his fingers itched to hold the key…but he quickly shoved that thought down as Jones's tentacle drew both keys back beneath his beard and tucked them safely away.

Peggy felt her heart hammer in her chest as Jones settled in his seat opposite Will and tossed his dice into his cup.

Will followed the Captain's lead, brown eyes and pale green locking onto one another even as they slammed their cups down to the table, only to find a third hand with another cup had joined their game.

"Bootstrap." Peggy sucked in a sharp breath as she watched Bootstrap Bill Turner sit on Jones's left, putting himself between him and Will in the turn order.

"What's this?" Davy Jones snarled at the older sailor, who grunted and shrugged his shoulders in Will's direction.

"I'm in. Matching his wager."

"No!" Will's eyes were wide, his cold mask slipping as Peggy pinched the bridge of her nose behind him.

"An eternity of service to you," Bootstrap mumbled. lifted his cup and checked his dice. "I bid three twos."

"Don't do this." Will hissed, but when his father met his gaze, he could tell there was no stopping him now.

"The die is cast." The elder Turner mumbled, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument as he turned to face a now amused Davy Jones. "It's your bid, Captain."

Three twos…Bootstrap, you bid too low. Peggy folded her arms, pursing her lips as she remembered when she had faced Bootstrap in games during her time on the Black Pearl. He never liked playing against the rest of the crew because he could not lie, bluff, or cheat to save his life. He didn't mind playing against Peggy because their games were never for money, just simple fun. But even she, as inexperienced as she was, often beat him.

Will had an honest face; it was true, but Bootstrap…Bootstrap was an open book. What was he playing when he entered this game? What did he have to gain putting himself between Jones and-

Peggy stopped, horror-struck as she briefly met Bootstrap's gaze and saw the sorrow behind his blue eyes.

No…no…She had thought Will was protective, but Bootstrap had taken the cake.

It did not matter what Will did now; Jones could never accuse him of lying with Bootstrap between them. It would go against the game's rules, and Jones's pride would never let him violate them.

It did not matter if Bootstrap won or lost the petty gain; he had achieved what he wanted. He had protected his son from eternal punishment…by sacrificing the freedom his son had just won him.

Like father like son, Peggy felt tears prick as she watched the three players begin their game.

"Four-fours." Jones bid.

So he has four of something under his cup. Peggy frowned, though she doubted Jones had many, if any, fours beneath his cup. Most players often started with face values lower than they had so they could start small and work their way up, though they usually gave away how many dice might be the same number. However, given the presence of fifteen dice at the table, it was reasonable to assume that either Will or Bootstrap might have had at least a two to three fours between them until proven otherwise.

"Four fives." Will countered swiftly.

So Will has at least four-fives beneath his cup or three-fives, and he's accounting for Jones possessing more. Bootstrap can't have more than threes or fours on the table if he bid three-twos.

"Six threes." Bootstrap bid but Jones did not even deign to look at the older sailor. Instead, he sneered in Will's face:

"Seven fives."

Peggy opened her eyes, and her heart sank as she caught sight of the twitch of the vein in Will's neck and the tiny flex of his hand on his cup.

So he only has three fives under his cup, and Jones has four…Bootstrap can't have any because he's been bidding on twos and threes. If Will bids higher, he'll lie outright, and Jones knows it. But neither can Will call Jones a liar because he's not lying…

Peggy looked at Bootstrap again and could tell from his clenched jaw that he had caught onto the same train of thought as he, Will and Jones re-checked the contents of their cups.

"Eight-fives," Will stated, his voice calm and steady, though Peggy could see his neck was stiff as a board as Jones's face and the faces of the crew all twisted into gnarled chuckles.

"He-he-he! Welcome to the crew, lad." the devil chuckled wickedly only to stop abruptly as Bootstrap's voice suddenly piped up:

"Twelve fives."

Jones looked sharply at Bootstrap, whose face was blank and calm as he repeated his bid:

"Twelve fives. Call me a liar…or up the bid."

Peggy shut her eyes. Though she knew what Bootstrap was trying to do, it still pained her to watch it happen and be unable to intervene.

Especially when she could hear the smirk in Jones's voice as he snarled:

"And be called a liar myself for me trouble?"

Peggy grabbed Will's hand before it could shoot out to stop Jones from taking his father's cup. But it was already too late. Five red dice were now visible to all eyes watching, the white dots on the faces betraying the dismal three-twos and two-threes that Bootstrap had had under his cup the whole time.

"Bootstrap Bill, yer a liar, and you will spend an eternity on this ship!" Jones's voice echoed across the deck as he threw the cup aside and stood up abruptly, sneering at Will.

"Master Turner, feel free to go ashore. The very next time we make PORT!"

The thunder crashed and rolled overhead. The Captain and crew of the Flying Dutchman all laughed heartily at the incensed expression that flashed across Will's face as he braced himself to stand.

Monster! Monster! Will wanted to lunge at the captain, to hit him with everything he had, rip his tentacles off his face-

"Will don't."

Will stopped as he felt Peggy's arms wrap around his shoulders from behind and hold him back.

However, even as he stayed put, his entire body almost vibrated with rage as the Dutchman's crew left him, Peggy, and his father behind to head to another section of the deck to watch someone else play another game of cards.

Once they were safely out of earshot, she let go of Will, who sagged to his elbows on the table.

"You fool, why did you do that?" Will groaned in dismay.

"I couldn't let you lose," Bootstrap mumbled, unable to meet his son's eye.

"It wasn't about winning or losing." Will hissed, and Bootstrap looked up at him in wonder.

"The key…" he breathed. "You just wanted to know where it was."

Will nodded, her eyes flickering to Peggy as she took Jones's old seat. Her freckled face was pale, and her entire body trembled from head to toe, but otherwise, she seemed fine.

"Like father like son. You both are mad." She muttered with a scowl.

Despite himself, Will couldn't help but smile a little as she narrowed her eyes at the two Turner men.

"So what happens now?"

"Now we wait," Will murmured, grimacing as his back twinged. "When does the next shift start?"

"Not for a couple of hours," Bootstrap mumbled. "Now that the storm has passed, we get to return to regular day-night shifts like any other ship."

Will nodded.

"Then we'll wait till our next break to act. Let Jones think we've given up or are too tired to go on-mnn!" Will groaned as he twisted his shoulders only to find his back burn.

"You've overdone it again," Peggy sighed. She and Bootstrap got up to help lift Will back to his feet.

"I've got him," Bootstrap muttered as he hauled one of Will's arms around his barnacle-covered shoulders. "Remember yer dice."

Peggy nodded, quickly scooping Tia Dalma's dice back into their pouch, but only in time.

The heavy thudding of footsteps announced the return of a crewman.

The newcomer was a broad man who retained some human features. However, his entire face was covered in barnacles and mussels, his left eye was covered entirely like an eyepatch, and his hair was replaced by tangles of seaweed that sprouted from beneath his algae-covered heat. Sea anemones grew on his left shoulder, swaying and swishing oddly despite hardly any breeze.

His broad face twisted into a grimace as he raised one hammy hand to Will in a token of peace. The younger man bristled in readiness despite his injury.

"Hey, lass." The man grunted at Peggy with a deep, gravelly voice.

"Clanker." Peggy straightened up. "Is it the captain?"

"Aye, he wants to see ye." He looked at Will, his expression surprisingly apologetic as he said: "Sorry mate. She has te come alone."

Will opened his mouth to ask why but stopped when Peggy's hand flew to her right wrist, her face contorting in pain.

"Peg?"

"Captain's orders," Peggy muttered, turning her wrist over so Will could see the hideous black mark pulsating against her skin. "I can't disobey."

Will felt his blood freeze in his veins.

"But why-?" Will started, only for Peggy to kiss his cheek as she dropped the dice bag into his hands.

"I'll see you below deck when I'm done." She turned back to Clanker and nodded at him. "the cabin, yes?"

Clanker nodded, gesturing for Peggy to walk ahead of him. His face was sombre and sad as the young Selkie woman walked before him. Though she tried to stay calm and draw herself straight and tall, Will could see the bittersweet sorrow in her eyes.

"Come on, Will" Bootstrap tried tugging him in the opposite direction, but Will refused to budge.

"What's he going to do with her?"

"I don't know." Bootstrap sighed. "But we should stay out of it-"

"He's punishing her, isn't he?" Will breathed, gripping the dice bag tight in his hands. "He's punishing her for what I did." With all his strength, Will pushed his father off to stumble after Peggy, panic flooding him and replacing any warmth or triumph he had felt in his success. He suddenly found most of the crew in his way. They crowded around Peggy from behind, silently herding her towards the captain's cabin.

No-no. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen! Will thought as he desperately tried to shove his way through the dense crowd, doing his best to follow the glimpses of copper red he could see through the gaps between heads.

As he moved, he noticed the faces of the men Peggy passed. Most were silent, some looked in pity, and Jones's loyalists were excited as they watched their captain open the door to his cabin.

"Missus Turner," Davy Jones smirked with derisive pleasure as he looked up and saw Will struggling up the stairs, his injured back throbbing and impeding his process. He growled and moaned in pain as one of Jones's followers purposefully tripped him at the top to stop him from reaching Peggy, his arms flying out just in time to stop his face from contacting the sharp edge of the stairs.

"Will wait." Bootstrap tried to grab the back of his vest, but Will shoved his father off him as he ran to the closing double doors, which shut in his face.

"No!"

But too late.

The door was shut.

Will roared as his palms slammed down on the wood, the sound almost drowned by the murmurs of sympathy and laughs of glee at his misfortune. "Let her go, Jones! Let her go! She doesn't-"

"William, stop!" Bootstrap grabbed at his son and tugged him back only just in time.

Two bladed weapons, one made like the head of a sawfish and the other a rusted yet sharp cutlass, came down in front of the door, right where Will's neck would have been.

"Oy Bootstrap! Get yer brat under control ey!" the Bosun growled, shoving him back as Maccus and Angler bared their sharp teeth at the blacksmith.

"Come on, Will," Bootstrap grabbed and tugged Will back by the scruff of his neck.

"I can't just leave her-"

"Ye don't have a choice, lad." Clanker put a large hand on Will's shoulder, pushing him back.

"Stupid boy. Ye think ye could pull a fast one on the Captain and not pay the price? Ha-ha!" Maccus guffawed. "Who knows? Keep this up, and the cap'in might let us have a turn with her when he's done."

Several crewmen laughed, though some, Will noticed, only did so out of fear of the First Mate. Their eyes all turned sadly away from the younger man, unable to meet his eyes for shame or pity as he was dragged squirming by his father down below deck.

"Will-" Bootstrap hissed, pushing Will into the shadows beneath the deck. "Will, that's enough, boy!"

"No-no. I can't let him-"

"William!" His father shouted, grabbing him by both his shoulders and shaking him. "You need to stop, son! Stop."

"How can you say that?" Will snarled at his father. "If that were Mother up there, you would-"

"I know," Bootstrap whispered hoarsely. "I know I would've,"

"Then why won't you let me-"

"Because if you went up there and beat down that door, you'd both be dead or worse." He pushed Will up against a beam, taking advantage of his son's injured back to stop him squirming. "You think you're the first couple Jones has brought aboard this ship? Well, you're not. Jones delights in tearin' people apart. He uses one against the other, uses them to torment one another. The longer ye stay out here and yell, the longer he'll keep Peggy…if only to make you squirm-"

"But if she's up there alone with him," Will finally managed to squirm his way out of his father's grip.

"Aye. And yet she went up there with her head held high." Bootstrap said, gaze hardening. "She knows what kind of demon she's facin'. She trusted you when you took a risk. Now it's your turn."

"She's terrified of him!" Will hissed, and Bootstrap shook his head.

"Maybe, but stormin' into that room won't help her. You want to help her, son, then you wait and be there for her when she gets out. Care for her the way she cared for you. And he will let her out. Jones did not wait thirteen years just to kill her this quickly."

Will opened his mouth to retort, only to bite his lip to stop the groan of pain from escaping him as his injured back throbbed painfully.

He vaguely remembered his father saying something else as he was dragged down below deck and seated on a crate while his father went to the kitchen to get him something to drink.

Why…why was everything he did nowadays just all going wrong?!

This was his plan; he was supposed to take the flack. Jones had no reason to touch Peggy, who was not involved. Will had told her not to intervene and promised her she would not get hurt.

He had promised her!

He had promised her with all his heart he would never let anything harm her again!

Will's hand clenched tight over the bag of dice, only to frown as he realised it was heavier than the first time he had held it.

Carefully, he looked inside, his heart clenching as he saw Peggy's abalone shell necklace mixed in with the whalebone dice. The one trinket she treasured from one of her dearest friends…and she had given it to him for safekeeping.

"She knows what kind of devil she's facin'" That was what his father had said. However, it did little to soothe any of Will's fears.

"I'm going to kill you, Jones," Will whispered to the dark, night air, his voice cold as ice, his heart hammering as he gripped the necklace so tight in his hand his knuckles went white. "I'm going to find the key and the chest, then I'm going to take your godforsaken heart and kill you. My father will be free, and you will never hurt my Peggy again. I swear it...even if it means my soul is doomed to the locker. You will not touch her again. Not while my heart still beats."

---

"Ye know how ter pick 'em. Don't ya lass?"

Peggy shivered as she knelt on the floor, Davy Jones's shadow looming over her, blocking out any light from his cabin's massive stained-glass window.

"First Sparrow, now this upstart Turner. Two conniving wretches who would stab me in the back when given the chance."

Peggy did not answer. She knew better than to speak unless he ordered her to in these circumstances. Any back-chat would only make the beating worse, and she was already sporting a massive bruise on her neck from where his claw pincer hand had gripped it tight.

"The boy will come after me key. An' if he's after the key, he be hopin' to barter yer freedom an' his no doubt." Davy Jones stroked his chin as he glared down at the girl at his feet "But we won't let it get that far."

"We?" Peggy frowned in confusion, cringing as the Devil stalked around her and slid a tentacled hand to the back of her pants.

"Aye…ye didn't think I'd let ye off the hook so easily, did ye?" Davy Jones hissed as he drew from the waistband of her pants a knife…Will's knife…

Peggy's eyes widened in horror as the captain unsheathed the small weapon and examined its blade.

"Hmm…nice and sharp." He nodded in approval. "The boy's work, I'll bet."

Peggy remained silent,, but Jones's smile widened as he deftly twirled the knife between his fingers, tentacled and normal.

"If or when yer lad decides to make his move – and I'm bettin' it'll be soon – ye are to kill him with this. That," he cut across Peggy's choked sob, "is an order. Disobey it, and yer dead. Oh don' worry. If ye die, I won't kill yer lad. I'll let him live just long enough to see yer corpse. Let him know what his folly has cost him, and after that, we'll see what happens. Either way, one of ye will die by your hand or mine, whichever is the swifter."

"and if he doesn't make a move?" Peggy asked quietly. "What then?"

"Then ye both stay as ye are. Though I highly doubt a whelp like him will stay still fer long." Jones sneered, sheathing the knife and tossing it to the floor before Peggy's knees. "As ye know, I value discretion in me crew. So ye won't be tellin' yer dear beloved any of this. He's been lucky so far, but no more. Ye understand."

"I understand," Peggy whispered staring at the knife before her, as the devil's laughs were drowned by the rolling thunder outside.

Oh old gods of the sea, please have mercy on my damned soul.

---

DUN-DUN-DUUUUUN! Oh boy. Davy Jones is bringing in the heat here.

Yeah, so things are taking a less-than-great turn.

Will is finally figuring out his feelings for Peggy. Bootstrap is trying to step up and be there for his son. Jack is starting to see the effects of Beckett tightening the noose around the Caribbean and Peggy...Yeah...I really am making her suffer a lot (Sorry Peggy).

As for the ending with Davy Jones, I always found it kinda odd that a villain as ruthless and particular as he would be so lax in security after Will made such a blatant bid for the key...and so this happened. He made Peggy into his pawn with her Devil's Mark, unable to let her disobey him.

For reference, I used the official extended version of the Liar's Dice scene from the movie, as well as the explanation of it from a YT clip done by Lord Ravenscroft called "Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar's Dice Scene...". It's a very good video. I highly recommend watching it as it explains in detail the rules of Liars Dice and all the game theory employed in the scene.

The song Peggy sings in the beginning, is "Fish in the Sea" - Song by Michel Schrey, Nils Brown, and Seán Dagher. which i found when listening to the Assassins Creed: Black Sails Soundtrack. That soundtrack has quite a few nice shanties.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed and as always keep reading, reviewing, faving and following for more.

FuzzyBeta