Legends of the Treasure Child: Sparrow's Nest

“I had no idea you cared for the good opinion of a woman” Jack said with a hint of irony. Their carriage pulled up into the magnificent courtyard of the elderly castle in Wiltshire. As the carriage came to a stop, a servant immediately attended them. He was clad in the formal attire of a servant, with wig and a coat in gold and blue. Accustomed as he was to guests around the clock, he only looked half interested. That is, before he lay eyes on John Sparrow.

Jack held back a grin as he watched the relatively young servant, a man in his late teens, freeze up and start as he met the gaze of the half demon. Not quite understanding what or who he was looking at, the servant opened his eyes wide and stared, stumbling backwards. A gasp escaped his mouth, and he didn't stop moving backwards until his back touched the stone wall. John descended from the carriage. The servant looked up to the drivers of the carriage for support, but he was met only with a stare which told him that they were glad to be rid of the passengers. John smiled wickedly at the boy. He turned for a moment to help his father disembark. Once he was out, the twins Jacob and Israel fought to be the first to get outside. They were attached to their father through ropes tied around Jack's waist. They were two years old and looked like cherubs because of their wings. Once they were on the outside, Jack drew them close. The carriage driver got off, closed the door silently and swiftly before he was back on the carriage, driving on in a hurry. Alone with the servant, Jack let go off the ropes. The twins immediately floated upwards into the air. They would have kept on soaring if it were not that the ropes only had a certain length. Like air balloons coming to a sudden halt, they bobbed up and down for a bit, testing the surroundings, picking flowers which were several metres high up on the wall.

John folded his arms above his chest and glared at the shocked servant.

“How long have you been in the service of the Countess?” he asked rather sternly. The young servant stared at him with an open mouth. “We have an appointment with The Triple Goddess.” The servant looked at John in disbelief. It was the golden eyes which kept dazzling the youth. The pale, velvety sheen of his skin. The long hair covering John's shoulders, smelling faintly of herbs and perfume. The black coat tailored with care and attention to detail at the hems. Beautifully embroidered. In a moment, John unfolded his arms, reached out and grabbed the servant by the throat. The movement happened so fast that the servant gagged and choked. He tried to scream, but the grip around his throat was painful. He could hardly draw breath. Losing balance, he could but follow as John bended him backwards towards the ground. Touching the surface only with the tip of his heels, the servant was held up by John's hand around his neck. There was no escape.

Entering the grand hall of the enormous castle, they were met by a much elder servant. Eyeing the younger servant basking, flailing and gasping for air, the elder man didn't as much as raise an eyelid. Here was a servant who had seen it all and done it all.

“This way, Sir” he said, gesturing politely for John and his company to follow suit. He led them through a small hallway and to a set of double doors. The drawing room.

The word 'goddess' led Jack's thoughts immediately to Tia Dalma, and her transformation into true god-hood. Tia Dalma had been a woman of versatility and depth, and Jack had the pleasure over the years to get to know her most intimately. But a goddess? Oh come on.

It was a paradox, Jack thought to himself as they entered; John, Jack and his little entourage of half demon cherubs. A paradox in deed. Gods' and goddesses' worst nightmare was to be trapped inside a human body. Demons, on the other hand, longed for the entrapment.

He was stopped in his contemplation as he entered the room, tailing the two sons. In front of him, sitting at attention like queens in a throne room, were three noble ladies. They were of varying age. The eldest, who were most elaborately dressed in a frock which was on fashion about a century ago, eyed them all and smiled secretively. She cleared her throat, and spoke with a voice which mirrored her many years. It was old and crispy, sharp and blunt at the same time. Jack could immediately see that this was a dame of quality and rank. She was used to being the authority.

On either side of her sat two younger women. To her left side, a young lady barely out of her teens. She was dressed up in the latest fashion, but the way she wore her hair told them men that this was an unmarried lady. She was dressed in a sparkling white frock with lovely laces, and her hair was ordained with feathers and ribbons, like she was about to attend a public dance. The lady sitting on the right of the countess, was a mature woman in the prime of her life. She was evidently pregnant, her jutting belly hidden beneath a blue billowy frock. She was glowing with vitality, her cheeks a bright red. Long locks of black hair cascaded down her shoulders, adding to her already pleasing exterior. Oh had only everything been different, Jack would have done his best to charm them all into bed. Even the old one.

For a long time, the only audible sound in the room was the servant who was still gasping and flailing, searching for anything which might get him out of his predicament. Neither of the ladies seemed alarmed. They carried themselves with such dignity that Jack felt he was in the presence of queens.

“What is that you're doing with my servant, Captain Sparrow?” the clear and crisp voice of the countess finally cut through the air. She almost sounded amused.

“My apologies, my lady. But I have to ask: Is good help hard to come by these days?”

“Oh, you have no idea!” she answered him with a small laugh, eyeing the young servant coldly.

“Am I to understand that he's not aware of your 'profession', then?” John glanced from the servant and to the countess.

“I believe not” she replied dryly. “The butler sometimes hire people right under my nose. How awkward!” she snorted.

“Perhaps he ought to be initiated?” John replied courteously.

“Perhaps. If he is worthy.” The countess viewed the servant, staring at him down her nose. Her wrinkly face was expressionless, drained of colour and resembling parchment.

“We have been without good entertainment for quite some time” the youngest of the ladies said. She watched as John dropped the servant to the ground. Falling hard with his head to the hard wooden boards, the servant coughed and gasped as he was finally allowed to breathe freely. She watched the young man get to his feet, straightening his wig and dusting the sleeves of his coat. He hardly heard her request. Taking his eyes off John was impossible.

The pregnant lady got up, and said: “Captain Sparrow? May I show you and the children the library? I shall call the butler and have him bring some refreshments.” She put one warm hand on Jack's right arm. The touch by a woman of such vitality gave him tingles in the funniest places. He smiled widely at her, showing to her all of his gold teeth.

“I have fallen in love” was all he could get across to her. He more than complied as she gently guided him to a door at the far end of the room. Her touch was inexplicable. He felt softer than butter in her care. She took his arm with nimble, silk-gloved fingers. The children tagged along, and Jack found that the lady which had taken the arm offered by him, was breathtaking and enchanting. The way the long intricate curls of her dark hair bobbed and swayed across her bosom and silky skin....! She gave him the same sense of bliss as sailing the Black Pearl across the seas, did.

“Forgive me my impertinence, me being only a humble sailor and all, but might I er – require after your name?” Jack's tongue nearly knotted up. The words stumbled out, and he couldn't understand why. He – Jack Sparrow, the king of fast talk – felt like a teenager attempting something with the girl of his dreams.

“Lady Gothsaldiere” the dark haired lady replied. The way her plush red lips curled up, how they glistened in the shimmering candlelight, made Jack's toes curl. Her name was next to unpronounceable

“What an interesting name? Scottish?”

“Celtic” the lady replied as they entered into an extensive library. Jack hadn't noticed, but now he saw the intricate jewellery she wore. Ancient silver in Celtic patterns, ordained with diamonds and beautiful carvings in miniature detail. His gaze was drawn to the enormous library with glass displays along the walls. Moving closer, he reined in the twins. The beneath the glass was copies of ancient texts which were thousand of years old. Many featured drawings which depicted men in different situations, from witch rituals, human sacrifices to ancient eastern philosophy about demon offerings. Jack was hardly aware of the butler which suddenly entered from another door, with a tea tray full of cups, tea pot and cookies.

“I must return to my sisters” Lady Gothsaldiere said. “Feel free to roam about in any book which might catch your attention. For the children, I would like to recommend those books with green spine” the lady said, pointing to a group of books in a shelf. They looked to be a part of a rather extensive volume about nature and animals. She excused herself and left Jack and boys, who were already raiding the cookie tray.

Ignoring the children ravaging the cookie tray, he walked over to the books with the green spines, curious of their content. Jack had never been much of a reader, not even after when Elisabeth Swan taught him how to read. Reading was boring. Reading was tedious. He picked out one of the books in the middle of the stack and beheld its cover.

'Carnivora Feliformia'.

Jack had no idea what that meant. Latin wasn't his thing. He parted the pages, opening the book in the middle. There, he beheld a beautifully drawn image of tiger cubs. He stopped in his tracks, as one of the drawings moved. It depicted a family, a mother tiger with four cubs. The mother was resting beneath a tree which provided much need shade. The cubs played about her, and she seemed content. One of the cubs stopped and stared at Jack. How was that possible? It directed its ears towards him, focusing tiny yellow eyes at him. Jack didn't have time to think, as the cub suddenly leapt towards him.

Yelping, Jack stumbled backwards with a live tiger cub in his arms. It was somewhat bigger than an average size kitten. Letting go off the animal which smelled of fur, sun and Africa, the tiger cub landed safely on all four paws. Jacob and Israel – delighted to have a toy – pointed at the cub and shouted 'look, look!' repeatedly at Jack. They sat down and reached out for the tiger. Jack had eyes only for the open book on the floor. He stood, frozen, watching as the mother tiger counted her cubs and found only three. She then proceeded to stare at Jack as if she knew he was to blame. He watched her mouth curl up in a menacing snarl.

She's going to jump!

Jack acted quickly. Much to the twins' protests, he picked the cub up by the skin of its neck, lifted it over to the open page with the mother tiger, and then hoped for the best as he dropped the cub onto the page. He watched amazed as the page soaked up the cub, rendering it from a live kitten into a drawing once more.

“You know, perhaps the, uh, 'Carnivora Feliformia' isn't quite our cup of tea. How about this one?” Jack said and put the book back into its place in the shelf. “Hippopotamus amphibius?» Jack commenced to open the book. Barely opened, a deep animalistic bellow made its way across the pages, filling the room. The sight of the drawing made Jack close it shut. Swiftly. «Nay. Not that one either. Let's see if we can find ourselves a book about fish instead».


The servant's heart beat faster and his breath quickened. John's grip around his neck once more was just as crushing as the previous one. The tall, long haired man with the funny golden eyes put his right hand across the servant's mouth, and the servant felt panic rise. He wanted to bite, to fight free. But something was constricting his jaw. His lips tingled and prickled, going slightly numb. Moments later, the servant's panic was nearing its peak as he realised that his lips had melted together. Screaming from the top of his lungs did nothing for him. They emerged as muffled squeaks. John grinned widely, his eyes glowing with lust. It took one look into those golden eyes, and the servant realised that he was bound for some serious pain. The golden gaze made him freeze up. Just when he thought he couldn't get any more frightened, his horror took on a whole new level as he was picked up and lifted over to a couch.

Six months ago, Elijah Devon's father – Trevor – had dressed up his boy in his finest Sunday outfit and brought the boy to the mansion of the Countess of Wessex. The Countess herself had not been present. Elijah had managed to impress the manager of the household, allowing him a two week trial. If Elijah made no blunders, minded the rules and gave it his best effort, there might just be a long term job opening. The first few weeks had been strenuous. But Elijah had kept it together, prolonging his stay. The tasks were tedious at first. But little by little, as he got better acquainted with the routines and saw more of the Countess and her two female companions, the job became more interesting. There were many restricted rooms. Places where the servants weren't allowed to enter. The ladies themselves and their guests which frequented the mansion, were alluring and full of secrets. The townfolk whispered of witchcraft and unspeakable acts, and all of this stirred and brewed into Elijah's mind at night. In his teenage mind he imagined the younger female guests dancing naked in the garden in pale moonlight, chanting and giggling. Now, he was being bended over a couch in the Countess' sitting room, immobilized and bewitched by – by God, was this the Devil?! Had they summoned Lucifer himself?!!

Elijah wriggled. He seriously began to fear for his soul. Still not over the initial shock of having his lips melted together so he couldn't scream, he was hardly aware until he felt his waistband being unfastened by unseen hands. He felt his pants being pulled down. Realisation kicked in, and Elijah understood what fate which now presented itself. This demon, this thing from the abyss was going to mount him. Elijah swiftly turned his head in the direction of the ladies, hoping, begging them with his eyes. But the image of the three ladies with smirks on their faces – amused smirks – made his blood go cold. He stared at them in disbelief and question for a second, forgetting to fight back as the tall demon wrung his arms backwards and tied them together with his belt. Next, he felt something soft, warm and hard, touch his cheeks. The demon dug his fingernails into the soft flesh on the boy's backside, parted the cheeks to reveal a welcoming puckered entrance. Steering his erect manhood towards the entrance as if it were the bowsprit of the Crimson Lotus, John closed his eyes, tilted his head backwards and prepared for the pleasure to come. He tightened his grip on the boy's tied hands and pushed inside.

Elijah Devon screamed. What he felt was unlike any pain previously experienced, and he wriggled and cried, fighting the intrusion with whatever strength he had. He tensed up, but it didn't help. The pain was like a searing hot needle through his backside. It was a dirty, unholy act which Elijah felt was tainting his very soul. Sweat poured down his temples, soaking the finely woven fabric of the couch. When the demon had buried himself to the hilt, he paused. The Countess had cleared her throat.

“Now, as you see, young man, one does not seek the counsel of the Powers that be, without giving some sort of sacrifice. And what better sacrifice than your virginity? Besides” the old lady paused, “I am not convinced that you are the right sort of person for this household. You may return when” she paused again to sip from her cup of tea, “the captain here has made either a man or a ghost of you. Now, we shall address your father, Captain Sparrow. Good day” the old Countess spoke crisply.

John took that as his cue to leave. He grabbed hold of the servant's hips and simply teleported them both back to the Crimson Lotus, his flagship. The ship was brilliant as ever, her red canvases rolled up and tied to their masts at the moment. In dead calm of the waters, she was a black wraith against the blue specks of sky which would emerge now and then through the everlasting grey fog which surrounded her. She whispered to him as he materialised, still inside the terrified servant who threw another fit as he found himself in new surroundings. The captain's cabin of the Crimson Lotus wasn't amongst the spacious ones, but it was roomy enough.

“I've got just the thing for you” John told the young servant ironically. Shoving the boy ahead of him over to the fireplace, he reached up in the ceiling and pulled down a hook attached to the end of a chain. Hooking the rope around Elijah's wrists to it, he then proceeded to hoist the arms backwards and up until Elijah was standing on the tips of his toes. It was a dreadfully painful position, and if there was any relief to be had at all, Elijah discovered that his seamless mouth now was reopening again. He could part his jaws and scream at the top of his lungs. That at least, was something.

The demon commenced to thrust. The pain was gut-wrenching, and Elijah got the sensation of being buggered with a handsaw. He stuttered out a few pleas, attempted the 'Our Father', but to no avail. The searing pain of having that demonic cock thrusting in and out of his entrance muddled up his brains. All he could ever really focus on, was the admission that this was not going to end good. He was at the mercy of a demon. He was – however unwillingly – interacting with a demon. If it were to be known, if there were any indications on his person afterwards, then he would be judged and burned at the stake. His life as he knew it, was over. He could see his last days in slow motion, spinning off in his head. The Mark of the Devil upon his body. The tales of old about the witch trials happening to him. The torture methods, the pain and the fear. Life in the village was already hard enough as it was. Once exposed, there was no stopping the rumours. Girls just didn't do it for him, and people all over town still talked about the kiss he had given a friend outside the pub little more than a year ago. After that, his friends had shunned him. Elijah didn't know why these thoughts raced through his head at a time like this. He was in great peril, so was his soul. His father had taken him to the mansion of the Countess in order to establish a new life for the boy. By some means of escaping the gossip of the town. Or perhaps it had been something else, something Elijah had found difficult to think about because it hurt so incredibly much: His father had arranged for Elijah to work there in order to be rid of him. Whatever way one twisted the angle, the answer stayed the same: It was best for everybody that Elijah had gone away.

The door of the captain's cabin was all of the sudden torn open. A young man, about Elijah's age stormed in and shut the door behind him with a loud bang. He looked angry, and the moment he lay eyes on Elijah, as whereto comprehension set in, he immediately marched up to them. Stopping by the fireplace, half a metre from the demon and the foul deed he was doing, the young man crossed his arms above his chest. He drew in a deep breath and said:

“So she was in deed telling the truth! Here I spend my days, tending to our red lady, toiling and sweating for you! I am down on my knees for you struggling to extract every last golden drop from your loins! I beg and I tease! I grovel at your feet, I bring you everything you want, I wait for hours to have just an ounce of your attention, just to feel an inch of your cock inside me!” The stranger paused briefly to breathe. “I yearn for you every second you're away, and I have to put up with knowing that you have a guy in every harbour! And now – now you drag them here! To think that you could stoop so low as to soil our love's nest with another – a – servant! A servant!!”

“First mate Scarborough?” John replied with a wide grin, taking no apparent notice of the verbal scolding.

“Yes?” Jamie Scarborough sulkily replied, placing his fists against his hips.

“Bring me my tea.”

Jamie Scarborough looked as if his eyeballs were about to pop out of his sockets. Had his ears been able to, they would have opened up and vented steam. The decadence in John's voice, the complete lack understanding for Jamie's situation left the first mate speechless. He turned on his heel, with fists clenched and teeth grinding. Walking over to the captain's desk, he picked up the iron pot, filled it up with fresh water from a wooden bucket and turned to face them again. Wordlessly, without gracing them with another look, he walked over to the fireplace and hung the iron pot by the handle onto an iron lever, making it hang near the fire. Just then, John reached out and pulled the wig off the boy's head. The half demon kept on pumping in and out, closing in on his orgasm. The boy's face was naked with fear, and Jamie stood as frozen.

The reflection of the flames played in big, watery green eyes. It was as if Jamie was watching the very green fields of Ireland, rolling on endlessly. Elijah's hair, half long and slightly obscuring his eyes, was a deep auburn. Like the vigorous brown dirt and the emerald grass growing on top of it …! Jamie knew the emotion just as it struck him. This was a boy he could not live without.

Jamie stood frozen for several seconds, watching the beautiful yet terrified apparition before him, watching John and knowing he was very close to coming. Knowing what John's sperm would do to a man's insides – as it turned to gold and became solid substance once it left his body – Jamie felt as if he was faced with only one option. He drew his cutlass.

John tensed up and froze as he felt the tip of Jamie's blade against his throat. Glancing upwards and meeting the young man's eye, John couldn't help but to grin.

“Feeling mutinous today, Mister Scarborough?”

“No! I – uh, uhm, just” Scarborough let his cutlass down, immediately regretting his action. John was right. This was mutiny.

“Don't you think I know love when I see it?”

“It isn't love ..!” Jamie retorted and looked away. Or was it?

John desisted and pulled out. Fate had, once more it seemed, struck, and now it was dealing it's card to Jamie. What John was unable to give his first mate, the young servant would. They would have each other. He backed away and watched Jamie attend the young man with unusual care. He rearranged his clothes and then returned to the Countess of Wessex.


The thick oak doors of the library, withheld all sounds from the drawing room. Unaware of the unfortunate fate of the servant who had seen too much, Jack passed time there until the doors opened and the three ladies entered. They stood before him for a moment, observing the children.

“We are the Triple Goddess” the Countess proclaimed solemnly. “You seek protection for the unborn life within you” the Lady Gothsaldiere continued. “Find the tears of God which were shed on the day of his son's crucifixion. The calamity of all demons and angels alike. The weapon of Azrael, the angel of death.”

The youngest of the ladies whom Jack didn't know the name of, strode forward and walked to one of the walls which were covered in books. She pulled out a book which appeared to be wrapped in old, withered leather. She handed him the book, which was fairly thick, and said: “From the hairs of your enemy's father you bind a bond unbreakable by any demon.”


John didn't dare to ask what advice had been given to Jack. He watched his father silently, watched the former pirate for once being immersed completely in a book. John didn't know whether to laugh or cry, because all though Jack was no longer brooding over Will Turner, the old pirate glow was now back in those chestnut brown eyes. And that only meant one thing: Jack Sparrow would get restless, and he would turn the heaven and the earth up side down to get what he wanted. There was going to be a treasure hunt. And that meant that John would have to redouble his efforts when it came to protecting his father. And that was a lot of work.

The Triple Goddess was one of the kinder divinities John knew about. Forever present in the four corners of the world, bearing down on any female threesome with the right set of qualities, the goddess could be called upon even in Siberia.

“You dream of a man” the Countess had told John once he had arrived to pick up Jack and the twins, “and he haunts you frequently of late. This is a man you fear. He has the power to harness you.”

“He is dead.”

“He died. He was reborn. His soul seeks yours.”

“All of mankind awaits his return. He should focus his efforts on them and not me.”

“The Web of Fates have been woven. Two threads shall become three.”


Back in the carriage, John rolled his eyes as he remembered these last words of so called wisdom. The Triple Goddess had her vanities. And one of them involved speaking in riddles. Another difference between gods and demons: Gods never spoke clearly. Always the words were dipped in mud. Demons lied, or spoke plainly. Half demons couldn't lie. And always spoke the truth. No mud.

John knew this recurring dream about the crucifixion of Christ was a heads up. But what about? The second coming? Was this really it?

The resurrection of Christ. The end of the world. The lamb and the sword. The people of God. One hundred and forty-four thousand …! The breaking of the seals.

Jesus Christ the saviour. How could he be the saviour of men if he were also to be the one to break the first seal?

If there's to be an apocalypse, where would John hide Jack and the children so they would be safe from the eyes of God?

“And the Christ looked to the heavens and cried: Father why have you forsaken me? And then God looked down onto his son, extinguishing the life beating in his chest. God then shed thirty-three tears which fell to the face of the Earth and beyond into the realm of Hades. And the demons tried to touch the tears. The flesh on their bones fell from their bodies, and they cried of infinite pain, before their unholy souls were torn asunder never to be resurrected again.”

Jack paused and gazed out the window of the carriage which made its way across brick-laden streets, downwards to the harbour.

“Thirty-three tears of God” Jack said, eyeing John. There was no mistaking the mischievous glint in his eyes. In Jack's brilliant mind, a plan was taking shape.

“You haven't heard the rest of the story” John said, not showing any particular emotion.

“The rest of the story? There is a rest?” Jack wanted to know, reining in a child who was halfway out the window.

John drew in a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. He could see he had spurred Jack's interest. “When the thirty-three tears of God came to the surface of the Earth, they transformed into stones. Gems. Blue, tear-shaped diamonds. Even just a shard of such a stone would be more than enough to keep Saieros at bay. A whole stone would seriously hurt him. A weapon put together by the stones would kill off the demon in him. Permanently. What would happen to the other part of him, the human part, I don't know.”

“I need but a shard...!” Jack mumbled to himself, his beautiful brown eyes darting from south to north as his mind started to spin a possible future without the demon.