Taming A Dragon

Author: Pilgrim
Title: Taming A Dragon
Rating: NC-17 by the end possibly sooner depends on the story progresses
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the PotC characters or movies (unfortunately); anything you recognize isn’t mine although that shouldn’t be much in this fan fiction.
Feedback: Please! First time fan fiction writer and desperate for tips, tricks, advice, stuff me full of info please! I want to improve and take over the world with my genius mwhahaha! Lol, only kidding but feedback would be fantastic, send it to raukarwen_deomene@yahoo.com!
Notes: So far unread, so really need feedback on it.

Chapter 1 – Decisions

Two hours he had been sat in the dirty straw of the cells surrounded by the scourge of the earth, pirates, smugglers, pick-pockets, drunkards and several bundles of stinking rags that he had no wish to know what they were. To think that only this morning he had felt elated knowing he had done something good and was free for a while on the wide open ocean, the deep blue sea that called him so strongly, now he was within stone walls. An old pirate began to wail some old dirty sea shanty about whores; Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust and shifted away from the bars connecting their cells. The pirate chuckled and stopped whining the tune; he scrambled towards him leering out of one eye.

“What you in here for Mister, you look mighty fine to me. Got too frisky with the Governors’ daughter and couldn’t afford the bribe?” He chuckled crudely and rubbed his thumb and fore-finger together suggestively, Jack turned away and tugged his expensive navy jacket about himself tightly, “Oh well you be like that then.” The pirate huffed and wriggled back away from the bars, Jack exhaled as the pirates’ stench drifted away with him. Shuffling around in the straw he found a slightly cleaner part and curled up on it to sleep.

:/

Jack laughed and chortled childishly as he watched his friend try to brush his way through the foliage after him.

“Come on or we’ll never get to the waterfall before night falls!” The other lad grinned and picked up his pace.

“I wish you wouldn’t go so fast Jack, I can barely keep pace with you flicking these branches in my face.” Jack paused and slowed down holding the various fronds and branches back till the other boy had hold of them. The tropical heat of the Indian rainforest was even heavier within the dense foliage that was packed about them on every side in every shade of voluptuous and vibrant greens. He paused thoughtfully.

“Fazul, why doesn’t your dad like us playing together any more?” The lad paused as well as Jack turned to regard him.

“I think it’s cause I’m older than you, I nearly three years your senior. I think he thinks it’s childish for me to still be playing with ten year olds.” Jack nodded slowly and continued on the path.

“I heard him say something about slavery; he thought you’d look like my slave.” Fazul frowned thoughtfully.

“I suppose that’s possible, for people who don’t know us, they might think I’m your slave.” Jack kept up his relentless pace through the jungle.

“Why though, there’s nothing different about you to me except age.” Fazul smiled at his friends’ innocence.

“There is, my skin is darker than yours.” Jack laughed boldly.

“What’s that got to do with anything Fazul, that’s just silly.” Fazul grinned slightly.

“I know that and you know that but some grown ups don’t, they think that because we’re darker than them we’re not as good as them. That we’re not civilised.” They walked on in silence for a while before Jack spoke up again.

“But you are just the same as me. If I stayed in the sun for a long time my skin would go like yours. Which means we’ve both got the same skin and everything else is the same, our arms, our legs, our minds.” Fazul grinned.

“Well we know that.” They kept on for a few minutes before Fazul broke the silence again, “Jack, will you change when you get older? Will you want slaves?” Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“NO! Never, I promise I’ll stay the same Fazul, and you will too won’t you?” He kept on for several paces before frowning when the lad didn’t respond; he turned around but saw nothing but the foliage they had been walking through on the familiar path. Jack frowned assuming Fazul was playing a game.

“Fazul, come on we haven’t got time if you want to get dried as well before we set off back home.” Nothing came in response and cold fear bit into his heart, he began to jog back down the path shouting Fazul’s name. He cleared the rainforest after several minutes and gazed down the road panting heavily.

“JACK!” Jack glanced up; Fazul was writhing in the grasp of two white men’s arms on the back of a cart. The driver whipped the cart horse sharply and it set off at a rapid pace, Jack screamed and ran after it before stumbling over a stone in the road and landing on his elbows and knees. The echo of the horses hooves got louder and nearer.
:/

Startled from his dream… memory he corrected himself he looked for the source of the disturbance, the old pirate was running a cup along his bars and shouting for water. Jack frowned at him and shifted round into a more comfortable position but sleep evaded him, the horror of memory stimulating his mind beyond the edges of sleep.

He had run back to his house and told his father about the slavers and that they needed to rescue Fazul, they’d gone to Fazuls’ mother and fathers’ house and teamed together a bag of coins to buy him back if needs be. They had headed towards the slavers yard a good ten or so miles away only to arrive to disaster.

Fazul had been dangling dead from a post outside the entrance. When Jacks’ father had confronted the slavers they claimed he had tried to run away. That image haunted him still, every time he closed his eyes he remembered the fear in those eyes and then the flies crawling around them.

He had died and been re-born that day, Jack could no longer claim the innocence of childhood and was re-born into something not adult but not child either, an entity of both. Even now led in the cell he wished he had been able to run that little bit faster, jumped that little bit farther, screamed that little bit louder. No longer able to sleep he eased himself up stiffly and glanced across at the old pirate still running his cup over the bars.

“What are you in here for?” The pirate seemed startled at the question, at least startled enough to stop rattling his cup much to Jack’s relief. He grinned and shuffled towards the bars separating their cells.

“Something your lot frown down on in your upper class mansions. Slave trade, targeted the slavers ships and set the poor buggers free from the torture of serving your lot.” He cackled insanely, “What about you then? Was it the Governors’ daughter?” He leered suggestively, Jack wrinkled his nose but the confession of the pirate had struck a hidden chord.

“No, released slaves.” The two men regarded each other intently; the pirate looked completely serious.

“Truly?” Jack nodded, “By the Gods, some of you do have sense. What a day to meet someone with the same feelings. An honest man.” Jack frowned he wouldn’t have called a pirate an honest man, not even a decent man before now.

“An honest man?” The pirate chuckled.

“Aye, you think all pirates are out for themselves? Some have morals you know, like me and my crew, we plundered slavers, took their cargo and their slaves and released them wherever they wanted without question. Lots of us do it, that’s what annoys them most, not the cargo looting but the slaves.” Jack watched him intently.

“Pirates do that sort of thing? I was always told…”

“That we’re good for nothings, aye lad some are, some are out for nothing but themselves but there are a few that do an honest trade in my opinion as well. All my crew hung for it, twenty ships in total, nearly three hundred souls saved in my counting, in my opinion a fair deal.” He cackled again, “Course may change my mind when they hang me, any day now, been two months rotting in this hell hole on me own. Watching my crew dragged away one by one.” He went off into his own world and no matter what questions Jack asked, the man just mumbled away to himself and rocked slightly with his arms holding himself tightly.

:/

Four hours of boredom and memories and the guards appeared to drag him back up to Beckett’s office. He went willingly, he had had time to think and his plans were ready to be put into action, he knew what he was doing, even when confronted with the white wash ice inspired room of the Commodores’. The guards plonked him into a chair and removed the irons at a wave of Beckett’s hand; the man was stood gazing out over the harbour with a wistful look on his face.

He waved again and the guards left, Jack glanced around the room checking for anything he could incorporate into his plan. His eyes lighted on the fireplace, a red hot fire was burning brightly enhancing the Caribbean warmth to astronomical proportions, at the edge a rod of iron rested, just its’ tip in the fire. Beckett turned slowly to face Jack with a grin.

“How are we feeling this morning my friend?” Jack maintained his silence; Beckett continued regardless, “Tell me… Jack, how fond are you of your ship?” His heart constricted slightly and he knew he had to reply, the bait was too tempting.

“It is my life, why?” Beckett’s grin widened and took on a new glint of evil.

“Come to the window.” Slowly Jack rose from the chair and stepped up next to the Commodore, the constriction increased till he could barely breathe. There was his ship, the glorious Wicked Wench glittering in all her glory out in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by four Man ‘O’ Wars, he could see all of their guns trained on her. Beckett noticed the sharp intake of breath, the crease in his brow and he knew in that instance he had found Jacks’ Achilles heel. He rested a hand on Jacks’ shoulder companionably.

“Tell me Jack, which option do you want… the first, you accept my offer to redeem yourself and sail away on your beloved ship. The second, you stand by your morals, like a fool, and lose everything you could ever have dreamed of.” Jack clenched his jaw, the mans presence was repulsive.

“I can not accept the deal of the slaves. I submit my resignation.” Beckett was surprised at the sudden stiff back of the man; he hadn’t seen such resistance in him before. He hadn’t expected him to crumble exactly but some form of repentance had been expected, he gritted his teeth angrily.

“Oh, this is far beyond resignation Jack Smith.” He kept his grip on the mans’ shoulder and leaned out of the window to where a boy was stood, “Raise the flag.” Jack watched as the lad ran off and shouted at the man at the flag pole to hoist the flag. His gaze returned to the Wicked Wench, he could hear the toll of the drums of death though no drummers stood on ceremony. The second the ships saw the flag they opened fire, seconds later the Wicked Wench was fading out of existence and being drowned, its’ flag gave a pathetic wave as if saluting a dead era. Beckett sighed dramatically.

“I really didn’t want to have to do that Jack. Our fastest ship, with the best reputation and Captain, but you left me no choice. Now down to business, why don’t you take a seat.” Jack bristled and was about to retort when the icy kiss of a double barrelled pistol graced his throat. He glanced out of the corner of his eye towards Beckett, who still wore that same grin as if it was entirely natural to aim a pistol at a mans’ throat.

“Since you’re offering.” Jack turned and sank into the seat, Beckett began to tie his hands down, eventually satisfied that he couldn’t wriggle free he turned his attention to getting the iron as hot as possible. Jack watched him stir the coals getting the iron into the very centre till it glowed white hot. Satisfied at the colour Beckett left it for a while to get as hot as possible before tearing the rich navy jacket covering Jacks’ right arm up to the elbow. His fingers brushed almost lovingly over the pale skin hidden beneath.

“Such a shame to mar someone who had so much potential.” Jack didn’t speak as Beckett lifted the iron from the fire and pressed it into his fore-arm. The pain was excruciating but he refused to let it show, this man would not have the satisfaction of knowing he had caused pain. Beckett lifted the brand free and tossed it back into the fire.

“Captain Jack Smith, I am relieving you of your East India Trading Company posting. You are now only recognised as a pirate and traitor. Jack watched as the man headed for his desk, he drew out a black leather bound book and searched for a clean page to register the new pirate on. He chuckled, “Don’t really see the point of this; you’re to be hanged tomorrow at dawn so it’s not as if your name has to go down in history or record. Undoubtedly, the worst pirate the world would have ever seen.” Jack began to wriggle his wrists free of the restraints. Beckett gave an ‘ah’ as he found a page and sat down to begin the registration as Jack tore his wrists free and leapt up.

He grasped the iron from the fire and plunged it into Beckett’s lap; the man gave a high pitched scream and writhed in his seat. Jack didn’t give the guards the time to break through the heavy wooden door choosing instead to leap out of the window. His feet lost their grip on the smooth tiles and he skidded down the slope till it dropped into the street, the guards sent several pot shots in his direction causing several slates to shatter and explode sending sharp fragments into the air with some force. Rolling off the end of the roof he landed somewhat awkwardly and began running immediately, he knew he would have sparse few seconds to find a hiding place.

A side-alley beckoned him and he dodged in as a troop of East India Trading Company soldiers jogged past, their muskets primed and trained onto anything resembling him. Grasping his jacket sleeves he tugged the expensive item from his frame rapidly and glanced about for somewhere to hide it. He gave a disgusted grimace as he realised the only area where they were unlikely to search was the barrel of waste to his left.

Wrinkling his nose he slowly lowered the material in with a sob, it had cost him half a cocoa transports wage. With a whimper he deposited his cravat as well, watching the perfectly crisp snow white material sink into the murky liquid. A dramatic sigh slipped from his lips as he tugged the expensive leather belt from about his britches and deposited it also in the barrel. Satisfied that nothing else looked too rich he knelt and began to rub dirt into the spotless white shirt, tugging one side out he let it hang loosely, scruffily and he resisted the temptation to scoop it back into orderliness.

Satisfied that his upper half was satisfactorily scruffy he scooped up more dirt and closed his eyes as he began to rub the rough gravel and dirt into his military shine boots, four hours he had spent polishing them and now they looked as if they should have been ten years old and on the feet of a drunkard. After many heavy sighs and distressing thoughts he turned his attention to his head, the hair was far too well kept. Tearing the ribbon out he tossed it also into the barrel before ruffling his fingers through the slick shoulder length locks and teasing knots into it.

Spreading his arms he glanced down at himself and resisted the urge to sob again at the mess he had made of himself, he looked like some drunken wayward lout. He sighed as the cuff of his shirt rubbed over the fresh brand giving him a sore reminder or what he had been labelled, he wasn’t a drunken wayward lout, he was a pirate. He didn’t feel up to debating if that was better or worse and so settled his mind on testing out his new appearance. He strode out confidently and came face to face with one of the guards who had been his ‘escort’ to the cells and back, the man glared down at him and brushed him aside.

“Out of the way wretch.” Filled with new confidence Jack grinned and stalked off.