Preventing A Mutiny
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,692
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,692
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Characters and PotC belong to Disney. No profit, monetary or otherwise, gained from using them here.
To Hell And Back
Ch. 5 To Hell And Back
In the blue gleam of the moon, James’ skin doesn’t differ from Davy’s. Their gray hues mesh with James’ hand delving into the tangle of tentacles in search of peace for the night, but finding something hard and unyielding instead.
With drowsy fingers, James follows the metallic feel of the object, the double-headed key resting against Jones’ hollowed chest, his mind awakening, clearing, then toiling nauseatingly in uneasy disarray at the immensity his realization entails.
In an attempt to fend the disturbing thoughts, James traces a thin tendril gently, closing his eyes and pressing his face to the sleek, fluctuating mass, thankful, when the cirrus’ instinctively curls around his wrist sending pinpricks along his arm as the gentle touch grazes James’ abraded skin. Blessedly reminded of fulfilment, James allows himself to be carried far away from the fresh, besieging fact that he holds the very end - death - on his fingertips.
In his dreams, the giant beast, the three headed Kerberos turns against itself; his duty, his need, his true redemption, all maul each other, blinding, plunging forth to rip open throats, until the abomination, in ungodly unison, finds James cowering behind a sealed letter.
They sneer with blood-stained teeth at his feeble cries, his attempts to explain, and as if bored with his horror, the hound of Hell attacks with a deafening howl, piercing canines, crushing James’ bones, feasting on his withering flesh as the force of his inadequacy slays him into a mass of mindless, redundant prayer.
The last thing he knows, before the fiery, smoky dusk at the outer ranges of his sight turns into black oblivion, is that the monster that is Beckett, Davy and Elizabeth, will give no quarter. Not, until there’s only one left to prove victorious in the war over an Admiral‘s soul.
James awakens, not gasping in relief nor dismay, not frantic with his mind’s fright, but holding his breath when finding Jones asleep, while James lays paralyzed between sleep and wake, unable to release his hold of the key, its edges pressing painfully into his palm in a death-vice -grip.
He closes his eyes against the echo of the claims of the ghastly heads; “Mine.” “Mine.” “Mine!”
~
“Leave me.”
Those were the only words spoken when the Admiral walked into the cabin, marking the sighs of relief of the guards when all they got from sleeping on duty was a pointed look from their superior. Neither of them noticed James’ haphazard appearance, nor the lack of his wig.
The key turned obscenely smoothly in the lock, almost as if it had been waiting to be opened, waiting for James, who’s hands shook uncertainly upon opening the chest.
James swiftly gripped his sword determinately, his breath hitching, and drew the blade almost half way out of the scabbard.
The sight, the sound, the memory of the pulse of Davy’s unfettered heart called for him, momentarily petrifying the man before he sheathed his sword again, and reached his trembling hand around the organ with his eyes wide in recollection.
The warmth of the cursed heart of the Captain of the Dutchman seeped through James’ fingers. Eliciting a gasp from the man, it mesmerised with its persistent rhythm, taking James to another place, another time.
Eyes closed, he could feel the same beat he now felt on his palm ghost against his skin, every thud reminding him of wrong decisions, of both the times he’d let his duties surpass the elusive phantasm of love.
Neither, he realized, while subconsciously pressing the heart against his own chest once again, not Elizabeth, nor Jack, could have given him what Jones did. Not in the end. Neither of them would have never even began to understand…
Gently, James placed Davy’s heart back in its confinements and closed the chest firmly, knowing full well that it had to be done, for all their sake, but, just this once, before it was too late, Admiral Norrington decided it was time to serve himself before others.
--------------------
In the blue gleam of the moon, James’ skin doesn’t differ from Davy’s. Their gray hues mesh with James’ hand delving into the tangle of tentacles in search of peace for the night, but finding something hard and unyielding instead.
With drowsy fingers, James follows the metallic feel of the object, the double-headed key resting against Jones’ hollowed chest, his mind awakening, clearing, then toiling nauseatingly in uneasy disarray at the immensity his realization entails.
In an attempt to fend the disturbing thoughts, James traces a thin tendril gently, closing his eyes and pressing his face to the sleek, fluctuating mass, thankful, when the cirrus’ instinctively curls around his wrist sending pinpricks along his arm as the gentle touch grazes James’ abraded skin. Blessedly reminded of fulfilment, James allows himself to be carried far away from the fresh, besieging fact that he holds the very end - death - on his fingertips.
In his dreams, the giant beast, the three headed Kerberos turns against itself; his duty, his need, his true redemption, all maul each other, blinding, plunging forth to rip open throats, until the abomination, in ungodly unison, finds James cowering behind a sealed letter.
They sneer with blood-stained teeth at his feeble cries, his attempts to explain, and as if bored with his horror, the hound of Hell attacks with a deafening howl, piercing canines, crushing James’ bones, feasting on his withering flesh as the force of his inadequacy slays him into a mass of mindless, redundant prayer.
The last thing he knows, before the fiery, smoky dusk at the outer ranges of his sight turns into black oblivion, is that the monster that is Beckett, Davy and Elizabeth, will give no quarter. Not, until there’s only one left to prove victorious in the war over an Admiral‘s soul.
James awakens, not gasping in relief nor dismay, not frantic with his mind’s fright, but holding his breath when finding Jones asleep, while James lays paralyzed between sleep and wake, unable to release his hold of the key, its edges pressing painfully into his palm in a death-vice -grip.
He closes his eyes against the echo of the claims of the ghastly heads; “Mine.” “Mine.” “Mine!”
~
“Leave me.”
Those were the only words spoken when the Admiral walked into the cabin, marking the sighs of relief of the guards when all they got from sleeping on duty was a pointed look from their superior. Neither of them noticed James’ haphazard appearance, nor the lack of his wig.
The key turned obscenely smoothly in the lock, almost as if it had been waiting to be opened, waiting for James, who’s hands shook uncertainly upon opening the chest.
James swiftly gripped his sword determinately, his breath hitching, and drew the blade almost half way out of the scabbard.
The sight, the sound, the memory of the pulse of Davy’s unfettered heart called for him, momentarily petrifying the man before he sheathed his sword again, and reached his trembling hand around the organ with his eyes wide in recollection.
The warmth of the cursed heart of the Captain of the Dutchman seeped through James’ fingers. Eliciting a gasp from the man, it mesmerised with its persistent rhythm, taking James to another place, another time.
Eyes closed, he could feel the same beat he now felt on his palm ghost against his skin, every thud reminding him of wrong decisions, of both the times he’d let his duties surpass the elusive phantasm of love.
Neither, he realized, while subconsciously pressing the heart against his own chest once again, not Elizabeth, nor Jack, could have given him what Jones did. Not in the end. Neither of them would have never even began to understand…
Gently, James placed Davy’s heart back in its confinements and closed the chest firmly, knowing full well that it had to be done, for all their sake, but, just this once, before it was too late, Admiral Norrington decided it was time to serve himself before others.
--------------------