Legends of the Treasure Child

Jack woke up by the wet touch of a coarse tongue licking him. He opened his eyes, amazed to still be alive, but immediately remembering the whole thing. He was laying flat in his stomach, and looked down to find the Thyrion licking over a gaping hole, gradually closing it as skin started covering the space the demon had just been licking, healing Jack in no time. Jack carefully put his head down, pretending to still be unconscious while he debated with himself whether he’d settle for kicking the demon in his nuts or keep on playing dead, fooling the demon so he might get a moment’s peace. He went limp again, but inside his head he screamed, screamed in blind rage at the image of a void, bloodied hole where his penis should have been.
When the demon finished, quite happy with his handiwork, he started sniffing at Jack’s belly. A disapproving snort emanating from between his fangs

*No child yet* the demon’s voice growled inside his head, and Jack was so startled he forgot himself as it resounded in his head, alerting the demon that his victim was in fact awake. He roared out loud, sending Jack into a high pitched scream, and he forced his legs to start kicking, placing some well deserved kicks into the demon’s testicles, large as they were they could hardly be missed, and the demon backed away, prompting Jack to get his feet going, moving backwards. He made for what looked like a staircase, and nearly tumbled into free air as he saw that the rest of the stair was missing. Jack jerked back violently, trying to regain his balance, and practically fell into the arms of the Thyrion. As he felt the claws on its hands dig into the flesh in his sides, he screamed in pain, being dragged backwards. The Thyrion threw him onto a heap of bleached bones and skulls, picked clean years ago, before the Thyrion flipped him over, exposing Jack’s backside. Jack’s head was ground into the bones smelling of decay, and he had to force his head up for air He struggled once again, calling out to God for the first time in his life, begging for mercy. The Thyrion spread his legs, digging his nails deep into the flesh of the insides of Jack’s thighs, and it hurt so he felt no other option but to comply, screaming at the top of his lungs. The demon aimed for Jack’s temporary birthcanal, and Jack felt himself being filled again.

“Dear Mother of Christ, help me!!” Jack screamed, feeling himself being filled. Pain shot through his abdomen, and with every thrust it felt like the Thyrion was stabbing him with a knife, the pain fanning out from his pelvis and up the small of his back, rendering him rigid of the pain, cringing every time there would be a new thrust. “Someone help me!!” He screamed, his voice faltering into a whimper.
White snowflakes soon beaded his hair, his red bandana, and by the time the Thyrion had finished with him, Jack’s head and body was covered in the white innocence from the skies above. Jack lay panting, hurting on the heap of bones, drawing pained breath after pained breath while the moving, falling snowflakes fell on his arms where they’d formed a small blanket. A mockery of sorts, of his desperate cries for help from the Heavens. Instead of help, they sent snow to cover up the foul deed by the demon, so the earth would forget about Captain Jack Sparrow, clearly showing Jack their opinion about him.
He all of the sudden woke, not even realizing he’d fallen asleep while still being sprawled on top of the heap of bones. The demon had grabbed his legs, and dragged him towards the roofed part of the tower room, closer to the fire. That was when Jack realized it wasn’t actually a pyre, it was a festivity of fire demons with legs and arms hopping and dancing around in a frenzy, making it look like a bonfire. The Thyrion produced an iron ring, no it was a collar, and Jack backed away immediately, knowing what it meant.

“Please nooo! Nooo!!” He wailed, pleading for mercy. Soon his back hit the wall, and the Thyrion grabbed him by the throat, almost choking him while he rubbed his bloodied erect cock against Jack’s belly and the vacant area where Jack was missing something vital. He didn’t let go until Jack’s eyes disappeared into his skull, his face going purple, and immediately put the collar around an immobilized Jack’s neck, attaching the collar to a thin chain. Again, the demon sniffed at his belly, more pleased with himself than last time.

*Strong warlords to come!* the sound of the Thyrion bounced in his head, nodding approvingly to Jack, grinning a sickly, evil grin, baring his teeth.

*Thou shalt reside here while they grow inside ye. And once born, they shalt be raised—*

Something outside the window caught the demon’s attention, raising his alertness.

*Tonight, I pluck yer wings. Ye won’t be needing them, little Sparrow.*

As the demon passed Jack to peer outside the window, a blue cloth which previously had been concealing something in one corner on Jack’s right side, fell away, revealing a golden mask. Jack’s blood turned to ice as he saw it, immediately understanding who it was for. He had to get away; he had to go right now. The Thyrion absently held the chain in his right claws. The demon was a little preoccupied, and Jack took his chance, forcing himself awkwardly up, for his legs lacked the proper strength and he stumbled for the void in the wooden floor, trying to pull hard at the chain, hoping it rested loosely enough in the Thyrion’s hand for it to pop out. So it did, for the demon was caught totally by surprise as another demon came leaping in through the little window, locking his hands around the Thyrion’s throat meeting him dead on. As Jack lost his balance, he recognized the creature to be John, and his heart rejoiced at seeing him again. But all he managed to utter was a squeal as Jack no longer had any voice, feeling himself fall over the ledge and down into the abyss.

Demon father and demon son remained frozen for a slight second, as they both saw Jack fall, the chain rattling fast over the ledge, following Jack down into darkness. John let go off the Thyrion’s throat, and the demon did as he expected, and threw himself in after Jack.

“Bugger! I hate heights!” John cursed out loud, leaping for the void as well. He fell, plunging headlong after the Thyrion who was plunging headlong for Jack in order so save the unborn warlords in Jack’s belly, going as fast as he could, his enormous black wings close to his body in a perfect dive. John did as his demon father did, gathering his arms close, picturing himself with a pair of wings. Something began to hurt between his shoulder blades, and he hoped and prayed they would grow out in time. The sickness in his belly as he fell, seemed unstoppable and John hated it so bad, feeling really queasy. Then two sets of leathery, skin-coloured wings burst their way through the fabric of his shirt, and they folded themselves out, stopping John in midair. Not really having any experience with flying on his own, John bent downwards again, imitating his demon father, altering the point of balance, and he began to pick up speed, plunging down faster and faster.
The Thyrion had managed to save Jack from plunging into the icy ground, and nearly got them both impaled on sharp wooden debris. The demon struggled for balance, dodging several wooden planks which was littered across the floor, but the demon failed to avoid the immediate stone wall waiting just outside the weathered entrance. In the last minute, he twisted his body, shielding Jack as much as possible, taking the impact as they slammed into the icy stone wall. The demon fell hard, and Jack was so dizzy he couldn’t move, yet his mind screamed to make a run for it. But his body wouldn’t respond. But he’d seen John. Where was John?!

John didn’t manage to avoid them either, and crashed into them, squeezing Jack between himself and his demon father. They lay like that for a minute, demon father and demon son, simply staring amazed at each other before John got to his feet, and dragged Jack with him, setting course for the steep staircase which led downwards into the valley. As soon as the weathered stairs were steep enough, plunging straight down, he flapped the wings, wishing himself airborne. Unfortunately, John realized it was much more difficult to fly with a passenger underneath him, and they both half fell, half flew downwards. It all happened in a most improvised way, learning to fly by doing, in a rather unelegant yet compeletely Sparrowy manner. He could see the ground, and that felt reassuring, but then the Thyrion caught up with them, forcing John to park a frozen Jack on the steps. The steps were large enough for Jack to sit on, and he watched in terror as John began attacking the Thyrion, his slender hands taking shape in form of claws, drawing blood as he screamed out in a foreign language at the Thyrion, going for his throat again and again. The Thyrion seemed to be almost on the defence, actually drawing away from John, growling back at his demon son in the same language. He was clearly going for Jack, time and time again, and John fended the demon off, literally gluing himself to his back, making them fall downwards in a deathspin, for then to rise again. Jack climbed downwards, step by step while avoiding the attacks by the frenzied Thyrion. He’d stop to gaze at the two in amazement, as father and son quarrelled, obviously about him, and Jack had to focus to get himself down the stairs, often slipping. How beautiful they both were! And how menacing. Unearthly demonic creatures in their pride, John’s hair flowing wildly, framing his bandana-covered forehead while he spoke in a dual-voiced, guttural tongue, his lips drawn up in a snarl, lunging out for the demon’s throat time and time again, his eyes angry red. Then the demon set off, disappearing into the clouds, heading for the castle ruins, and as if John had read his mind, he followed suit, just in time to catch the Thyrion’s left leg, sending them both reeling against the mountain side. Again the Thyrion did that fantastic thing with his body, turning acrobatically in the air, taking the impact as they made violent contact with the stone wall. Jack stopped to stare as he realized that the Thyrion, despite his wickedness, made efforts to protect John despite John fighting him, inflicting pain. He watched them fall; taking another impact against a ledge on their way down, and Jack hurried to get down the ancient, chiselled out steps. He stepped on the chain several times, yet he couldn’t seem to free himself from it, so he wrapped it around his neck to keep it out of the way.
Jack Sparrow couldn’t see either of them, as fog had swallowed them. He couldn’t see a thing, and had to trust the steps to take him downwards. It was awkward, as he was naked and warm at the same time although his feet stepped on ice and snow. It was a little chilly, yes, but as long as he kept going, he stayed warm. It was the demon offspring in his belly helping him. Only hours into the making and already aware of themselves and Jack’s situation. Like John had been. He remembered what it had been like to have John in his belly. Also then had Jack been viewed as a prize, a breeding cow with great possibilities. They’d intended to keep him locked up until he gave birth. Those greedy Cantonese slave traders. They were going to sell John off to the highest bidder, expecting Jack to give birth to something resembling a monkey.
Jack screamed in terror as the Thyrion came out of nowhere, materializing right in front of Jack’s face, dragging him off the stone step, taking him upwards, past all the cumbersome steps Jack had inched his way down from. Jack struggled and kicked in desperation, thinking John to be dead since he’d not made an appearance yet. The demon lost hold of the wriggling Jack, who slipped between his fingers, causing long clawed marks on either side of his torso. Jack gritted his teeth, pushing himself out of the demon’s grip, and fell. The snow burned in his wounds, and he skidded, rolling downwards like a human snowball down a hill. Chance would have it that he rolled straight onto John, and they both half fell, half flew downwards until the air warmed up, leaving the fog behind over their heads. Both Sparrows were relieved to have solid ground under their feet, and limped/ran as fast as they could. To where, neither knew. But they had to find some kind of shelter. Jack stumbled and fell, his legs complaining, and John had an ugly gash on his left arm, his sleeve torn asunder. They ran across an open stone field, hearing the heavy wings of the Thyrion as he approached behind them, having caught Jack’s scent. Father and son found cover in an old shed, startling a couple of sheep on their way. Then came the Thyrion crashing down on them with all his fury. He landed on the roof, peeling aside the wooden boards like it was a banana. John’s palm began to glow with a blue flame, and he struck out at the Thyrion with his blue lightning, hitting the demon square in the chest. The demon tumbled backwards, up in the air, screaming, disappearing from sight. Jack and John stumbled out, making for the next shelter, and John lifted himself from the ground, grabbing Jack underneath his arms, taking giant, kilometres-long leaps. John could finally see the sea, and he felt the anger of the Black Pearl, connecting with her mentally, telling her they approached. The Thyrion was again on their trail, and as they came to a small fishing village, they dodged among the many houses, stirring up the quiet townsfolk, watching them fall to their knees in awe as they viewed John for the first time. There was something familiar about the ornaments on the houses, and the clothes the people wore. Like something John had forgotten, something important. He tore with him a shirt hanging to dry from a window. It was made of linen, a little cold but otherwise dry, and Jack put it on while they made their way for the harbour and the Pearl, dodging as the pale demon dived for Jack, screaming in anger above their heads. The townspeople did not run. Instead they stopped to stare, or knelt, like they knew of the demon. And that was when it struck John that they’d returned to the beginning.
These were the relatives from the people. The people, the people, the words fluttered in his brain, what people?! It held significance…! The people, yes, an ancient Greek people, robbed of their land, their magnificent city and forced into slavery by the Spartans. And the prince, the Prince Consort, he’d smuggled them out one by one in his tenure as the Demon King’s pleasure slave, providing for them, helping them prevail in an unknown land. The Sword of Troy. As long as it remains in the hands of a Trojan, our people have a future.
Odd. Where did that come from? John thought to himself, going for a final flight as he leapt into the air, his wings beating in the air, holding Jack close to his chest. Sweat began to pour from John’s forehead as he strained his recently grown wings to the maximum, and soon nothing but water was beneath their feet, their toes touching the surface now and then. He could feel the demon right behind him, feel the air whipping about them, and John had serious doubts about making it to the Pearl, yet she kept saying, you can do it you can do it! The crew cheered, taking cover as John’s wings finally failed him, sending them both over the railing and rolling on the deck of the Pearl.

“Gibbs!” John screamed, “get Jack inside! Now!!”

Gibbs and Murtogg got hold of the seemingly unconscious Jack and hauled him inside the captain’s quarters, while John remained on the deck where he’d landed, panting heavily, listening to the screams of his demon father circling the air.

“Get us out of here!” John shouted to the men, and they immediately set sail out and away from the bay. John stood on shaky legs to see the Thyrion circle once more, meeting his gaze before the demon headed back towards the village and the fog. Only then, when John was sure he wouldn’t return, did he allow himself to fall to his knees. Shivering, afraid and tired. He gritted his teeth, moaning in pain as he retracted his wings, melting the flesh and bones of the wings back together into his body, feeling the missing ribs settle back. He then puked in exhaustion, crawling on hands and knees to the cabin, wishing for a grand cup of tea, as rum or any beverage containing alcohol didn’t appeal to his queasy stomach at the moment.