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 3 - A New Deal

Jack woke late and frowned curious as to why the night crew hadn’t tossed everyone from their hammocks as they usually did at dawn. Easing himself up out of his new hammock he regarded the rest of the crew still splayed about in their hammocks. Water was sloshing around the area, the drunken pirate bubbling in it quietly from where Jack had tipped him out last night.

Slowly Jack made his way up to the deck, the sight that met him was astonishing, the deck was littered with debris of what must have been a massive battle. The main mast was trailing in the ocean, the wood splintered leaving only a stump on the deck, the helm had been demolished leaving nothing with which to steer and most of the banisters had gone.

The deck was more like a wooden plateau in the middle of the ocean than a ship. Trembling slightly Jack stepped forwards and glanced about the deck, no one was on the deck, slowly the rest of the crew appeared. A couple gave whispered cursings to the greedy silence, others fell to their knees and prayed, one began screaming and leapt off the side of the ship without waiting, the rest stood like Jack their eyes wide and disbelieving. Being the first on deck, Jack was the first to recover.

“Begin searching for any survivors, check for damage and…” No one was listening; the men began to drift aimlessly over the deck their eyes no longer seeing anything. One glanced up to the helm and gave a terrified scream.

“There’s no helm and no mast, we’re going to die!” This sent the rest of the men into a mad panic as they ran about the ship like headless chickens. Jack watched in disbelief as chaos reined over the men, he shouted and bawled, taking it so far as to slap one man across the face, but their attention had gone to panic.

They couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, he wasn’t in their individual little worlds and that was all their senses were letting them register. Realising it was a lost cause Jack retreated to the steps that had led up to the helm, he sat on them and watched as the men ran around pulling invisible ropes, prepping cannons that had been taken into Davy Jones locker and gambling with nought but air. His fingers ran into his wild hair and he waited, not entirely sure what for but something usually presented itself. A distant rumble of thunder quelled those thoughts instantly as his eyes rested on the coiling vapid black clouds that rolled in from the horizon like a herd of elephants over dust the waves rolled beneath its’ onslaught.

:/

Davy Jones studied the pirate ship they had attacked during the night, it was sailing absently on the ocean, its’ deck clear of any distinguishing features. He chuckled and glanced about the crew as the Flying Dutchman neared it, the rest of the crew was ready to be harvested for souls, he could practically smell them.

They drew alongside the ship and the crew chortled at the insane men going about their daily business too far gone in their dream worlds to truly be alive any more. It took sparse few seconds to round up the lot of them on the Flying Dutchman for Davy Jones perusal. He studied the group intently with a chortle before his eyes rested on one, a young man. His hair ill-kempt and beginning to take on the form of dreadlocks, rough clothing but something was strange about him, it clicked.

“You are neither dead nor dying.” The man met his gaze without fear.

:/

Jack glanced up confused by these turn of events, the last he remembered was the waves rocking the ship and then sheet after sheet of icy rain pounding down on them. Now he was staring up into the face of some sort of squid, a human face bearded with tentacles and no nose yet not entirely devoid of human features. He blinked dumbly and looked the thing up and down, one hand was a crabs’ claw, the other was beginning to grow into tentacles, one leg was crab like and the other beginning to stiffen with barnacles. His gaze returned to those soulless eyes.

“You are neither dead nor dying.” Jack frowned at the statement.

“Am I not?” That ruled out the possibility off being in hell and put him where exactly, he frowned as his brain began to re-engage, “Who are you?” Seemed an obvious question but still, he needed the time to think, the man chuckled.

“I am Davy Jones and you are…” Jack frowned again thoughtfully.

“Jack Sparrow.” His mind was definitely awake now and it began to filter through to his senses, “And I’ve got a proposition for you.” Davy Jones raised his eyebrows and the crew chuckled.

“Oh and what might that be Mr Sparrow?” Jack grinned up.

“I want you to raise up my ship, the Wicked Wench from your locker, give me captaincy of her for I don’t know twenty or so years and then I shall give my soul to you.” He remembered the legends, he knew his plan, Davy Jones contemplated this.

“That is a tempting offer Mr Sparrow. I believe I shall raise your beloved ship and I shall offer you a deal. You shall Captain her for thirteen years and then I shall take both your soul and your ship back. You will serve on this ship for one hundred years.” Jack frowned; he preferred his twenty years, “No, let’s make this very interesting. You shall fight one of my crew; if you lose the fight I have your soul for all eternity.” Jack swallowed nervously.

“And if I win?” Davy Jones chuckled.

“Then you serve for only one hundred years and so confident am I that this will not happen that if you win you gain that crew member as your personal slave for the thirteen years. As an added twist.” He chuckled and met Jacks’ gaze soundly, “What say you to that accord?” Jack glanced around the crew, they were all sea encrusted men, none of them looked much, and he doubted they’d be able to move very fast at all. He grinned and nodded.

“We have an accord, Davy Jones.” Davy Jones chuckled knowing what Jack expected; he turned and glanced back to where the Wicked Wench was rising out of the ocean. Jack stood up and stared at it.

“Black Pearl.” Jones raised an eyebrow curiously, Jack mumbled his explanation feeling foolish at having spoken aloud, “She’s as black as night, just she looked as if she had been spat out of the depths of the ocean by a clam.” Jones nodded.

“The Black Pearl it is then.” Jack watched as it floated serenely closer till it was within reach of the boarding plank. Davy Jones watched as Jack crossed over and jogged up to the helm, a wistful grin crossed Jacks features as his fingers caressed the wheel lovingly, “I won’t leave you again my beauty.” He felt whole on this ship, this was what he had been missing, captaining his own ship. He was only half-listening to Davy Jones commands to his crew.

“Mr Sparrow, your sparring partner, the terms of winning. The first one to drop their cutlass. Only one Oria, best give Mr Sparrow here at least a slight chance.” Jack frowned, that was an old name, nearly a hundred years old and a woman’s.

His eyes lifted from the helm and gazed down to his deck where only one figure stood. A girl was stood there, barely into her twenties by the looks of her as she spun a cutlass expertly in her fingertips a smirk arrogantly placed on her lips. He stared dumb-founded, if this was one of Davy Jones crew then by the Gods he wouldn’t mind joining, his eyes raked over the slender form.

She was approximately the same height as him, hair as black as his own tied back in several thousand braids to keep them out of the way. Long and wiry, her body was hidden by a baggy white shirt laced loosely at the front, it didn’t reveal much and he guessed she was on the more slender side of slender. Slowly he strode down the stairs towards her, a bonny face, rosy lips, nothing out of proportion, except for those eyes. They were a blue deeper than the oceans, he knew it was ridiculous but it was as if there was no bottom to them, they drew you in and refused to release you… like the Krakens’ tentacles. They terrified him and thrilled him at the same time; they looked dangerous, more than dangerous… merciless as if nothing but the Devil resided behind them. He took a couple of steps across the deck and watched as she adjusted her grip again on the hilt of her cutlass.

“You expect me to fight a girl and not win.” Those eyes flashed dangerously matching the hidden meaning in Davy Jones chuckle.

“I expect you to try and defeat her, there’s a reward for a reason.” The crew chuckled and nudged each other as Jack grinned feeling sure he was being tricked into something. He turned his full attention to Davy Jones.

“I’m serious; it’s not exactly fair on her.” Without warning she moved like lightning sending him sprawling to the floor with a sharp kick to his jaw. He glanced up from the floor at the girl towering over him; her eyes were glaring furiously.

“I’m the one you’re fighting keep your attention on me or you really don’t stand a chance.” She spun the cutlass again and returned to her starting position awaiting him. Slowly Jack got to his feet rubbing his jaw.

“You pack a bit of a kick, love.” She titled her chin proudly.

“Do you intend to defeat me with pointless chatter?” The crustacean crew chuckled and watched as Jack drew his own cutlass and got into position.

“First to drop their sword loses.” Davy Jones voice echoed out over the two ships. Oria nodded and Jack mimicked the motion not making the mistake of taking his eyes off her again, “Begin.” She moved with the same fluid speed, a kick missing his head by millimetres and the following blade barely missing his gut. He dodged and rolled away from her ruthless attack, he got the distinct impression she wasn’t just trying to disarm him.

Running up the steps he blocked one of her foul swoops at his tendons and jumped up the rest of the way. Oria followed smoothly keeping her blade within inches of his skin, he blocked and parried but she left him no opening to return a strike fairly. Startled more by her aggression than skill Jack gave a yelp when she lunged and barely missed his waist, her stride didn’t even falter.

She feinted an attack to his right and flipped her balance at the last minute to bring home one hell of a smack to his left hand side. Jack felt the air leave his lungs and jogged down the steps away from her trying to get some distance between them and regain some breath. Oria stood for a few seconds watching him with some amusement before suddenly running at the balustrade and flipping over it, she landed lightly with her blade at his throat. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Who are you?” She grinned and made a swing for his wrist; he dodged backwards and ran behind the mast. Oria followed her pace matching his easily, she pranced around the mast following him, not really attempting to hit him any more but wearing him out. A voice shouted out angrily.

“Stop dancing with him and get on with it.” Jack caught the thunderous look on her face as she disappeared around the mast, only to come face to face with her, she smirked and sank her cutlass into his lower right arm. He gave a cry as he felt the blade bite in and rip down, she pulled it free with a flourish and spread her arms arrogantly in a definite, ‘come on, we both know you can’t take me’ gesture.

Switching his cutlass to his left hand Jack backed off a way warily, she followed with an arrogant swagger. He quickly engaged his brain and thought through his options, he knew now this female was more than she let on, far stronger and more talented than she looked. His mind came to a quick decision and he prayed it was right, slipping a small dagger free from his belt he ran around the mast once more hearing her cut round the front, he tossed the dagger at Davy Jones.

He thanked the gods for quick thinking as she moved to intercept the dagger turning her back to him as her cutlass blocked his daggers’ passage towards Davy Jones who looked completely unfazed. She began to turn to face him when he took his opportunity; he leapt forward and wrapped his bloody arm about her throat. True to his prediction her instinct kicked in as he placed his cutlass against her throat and threw her balance off with a sharp tug, taking her weight onto his chest.

Her hands flew up and grasped his arm trying to wrench it away and gain some semblance of her own balance back, in the process her cutlass fell to the floor all but forgotten. He could feel her close her eyes as she realised her mistake, wits were no match for brawn, he chuckled as he felt her tug at his arm insistently. Jack met Davy Jones gaze and was surprised by the hatred that echoed out from the pitiless orbs.

“You fool of a girl, I told you not to play with him. You let him win.” She looked affronted.

“I did no such thing. He won fairly, if by foul means, they were not excluded by you in the rules. You let him win.” The creatures’ tentacles bristled.

“I did no such thing.” Oria tugged more insistently against Jacks’ grasp, he didn’t relent he was quite enjoying having the girl at his mercy. He was caught off guard as she finally lost patience and tore herself away, he stared in disbelief at the wound she had inflicted on herself by tugging free. The gash across her collar bone was oozing blood into her shirt yet she seemed hardly phased by the fact as she glared between Jack and Davy Jones. Jack stepped forwards determined to define that he had won.

“So, I get my ship, thirteen years and only one hundred years on your ship.” Davy Jones nodded.

“And the girl as your personal slave for those thirteen years, as by agreement.” Oria bristled at the sentence but Jack interrupted any retort she may have thought of making.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you in thirteen years then, ta very much and all that.” Slowly the Flying Dutchman pulled away, both men missing Oria’s triumphant grin, too intent on glaring at each other.