What Would You Do? *1*

Author: Pilgrim
Title: What Would You Do?
Rating: NC-17 by the end possibly sooner depends on how the story progresses
Summary: Alright, this is Part 3 of the unnamed series (that’s not it’s name I just haven’t got a clue what to call it!) Basically, the first few chapters are following on from Taming A Dragon (Part 2), then we get into the Curse of the Black Pearl, except we’re going to add some spice (a.k.a. Oria) and watch the tale take on a slightly different meaning and progression for Jack. Also, we actually get to the Jack we all know and love, the loopy, pissed all the time sweetheart and you find out the reasons for it according to my twisted little mind!!! How exciting lol! YOU ALSO FIND OUT WHO GOT SHOT IN ‘TAMING A DRAGON’!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the PotC characters or movies (unfortunately); anything you recognize isn’t mine (god damn them to hell!) Before anyone asks yes, Oria is mine, who else could have thought up such a creature?
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! VERY FRIENDLY PERSON WILL NOT KILL ANYONE FOR BEING POSITVE OR NEGATIVE! JUST TELL ME!
WARNINGS: This could include anything! I mean anything, there’ll probably be some sex, make that there god damn will be if I can get the courage up to write it! Probably a considerable amount of violence, cussing, possibly some angst, depends on where my little plot bunnies lead me basically. Oh they’re so cute… OOWWW they bit me, that’s it I’m infected let’s get on with the story before they torture me more!!!
Notes: So far unread, so really need feedback on it.

Prologue

Jack swirled the rum once more in the bottle watching as it made its’ sluggish way around the bottom. His throat was burning and the Caribbean sun was boiling his blood yet he still felt colder than death.

How long had he been sat here for with the waves crashing all around him? The only sound in an otherwise silent world of his own creation. He glanced up at the sky, the sun was exactly at mid-height, noon, he tilted the rum bottle and swallowed a good dosage relishing the burn it sent down his throat. Reminding him he was really alive, he was really here under the scorching Caribbean sun, this was just a nightmare that he would wake up from, this was his life. A merciless murder still at the fore front of his mind, all the blood that had swamped the deck.

He placed the bottle down in the sand and gazed back out over the ocean, the Black Pearl wasn’t even in sight anymore. Nothing but league upon league of wide open ocean, with nothing in-between but the sparse few inches of sand in front of his boot toes.

He had failed, all those promises he had made, all the warnings she had given and he hadn’t seen it till it was too late. Now he had the blood of his own child on his hands all because of his pride at being able to lead independently, being a Captain didn’t make him automatically right, he understood that now. Piracy had no guarantees like being a merchant had; every single step had to be fought for if you wanted to stay alive. It had taken blood for him to realize, blood from the two he loved. Now he was all alone, in the middle of the Caribbean, surrounded by his other love and all it was doing was mocking him. Giggling up the sandy beach to tickle playfully at the toes of his boots, enticing him into playing, or drowning as he felt at that moment in time.

He picked the rum bottle up again; he had never thought he would be weak enough to seek solace in a bottle, but then Oria had been right about that as well, it did ease the pain. It couldn’t make him forget though, or turn back the clock, he would always have to live with the fact… the fact that because of his foolishness, his… naivety, he had lost everything he had ever cared enough about to fight for.

The tears had stopped falling long ago, he glanced down at the pistol led next to him, how much would it hurt to end this pain, this agony in his soul? Surely it couldn’t be worse than this? He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, his fingers running over a hole in the side of the handle, with a frown he gazed down at it. There was a small oval in the wood where a medallion had been pried free; his fingers felt for the same medallion that dangled from his hair and he plucked it free. Glancing between the two he pressed it back into its’ home with a slight grin.

“Oria.” It was her pistol, a cruel trick of Barbossas’, a taunting reminder of what he had lost. If only Barbossa had known, if only he knew now that this shot had none but his name on it instead of Jacks’. How he longed to see this single bullet take away the life of his betrayer. How he longed to be the one to annihilate that life.

Jack tucked it into his belt his mind focusing strongly on destroying the man who had robbed him of everything. Still, there was nothing he could do till the rum runners’ came again except drown his pain in bottle after bottle of heavenly, hell scorching rum and then pray he could trick them into taking him to the next port. There his search would start for the Black Pearl and a way to reclaim everything Barbossa had stolen, he would see that man die at his hands. He swore on that day, on that beach, at that time, he would see Barbossas’ blood spilled, he would get his revenge, even if it killed him.

:/

Barbossa strode down to the brig confidently; he was enjoying his new reign as Captain of the Black Pearl, even more so that it had been accomplished so smoothly. He paused as he regarded the girl in the cell; he knew she had healed quickly, barely an hour later she had been up and moving if somewhat tenderly in the cell. Her eyes met his now and she stood up as he stepped down to stand facing her. That hatred shining through so strongly it was almost like walking through a barrier as he approached the cell.

“How compliant are we feeling?” Oria glared at him and folded her arms; she would give anything to be free of these bars. All that anger she had learned to control now brimming back to the surface at the impetuousness of the man, his arrogant courage, or was that his dumb belief that she would fall into compliance as she had with Jack. Either way, she wanted revenge and she wanted it badly.

“You don’t want to be unlocking that door at any point soon if you value your life.” He chuckled, and strode around the front of the cage like a tiger regarding its’ prey, his eyes never leaving hers. After a few seconds he stopped, standing in a typically dominant pose, he wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of this one. He had studied her family’s legends as had every pirate, seeking out the truth behind them. What had made them so powerful a family, what had made them legends? He still did not have that key but now he had one of them and inside her he knew was the key, in that little twisted mind of hers was the knowledge that would make him great. Better than great, infamous, more than she could ever have dreamt of being.

“Still a bit annoyed are we?” She ground her teeth, she never had been comfortable in the middle of solid walls, after all, there was so little manoeuvrability. Walls left a person vulnerable and alone, it didn’t help that the last time she had been in a brig she had nearly been taken against her will. No freedom, something she had begun to take for granted with Jack. Her heart constricted slightly, she missed him, apart for less than a day and already she felt the loss.

Barbossa stepped closer to the cells’ bars, looking at her curiously. He had not seen that look in her eyes all the time he had been watching from the deck, it was akin to sorrow. Had Jack actually been a man and accepted the challenge of a demon, that was an interesting complication. Without warning she leapt forwards and he dodged back with a sly grin. He could see the annoyance in her eyes, the hatred, that desire and longing for freedom, Jack hadn’t tamed everything then. There was still that rebellion and he knew that that was the entrance to the key to unlocking what ever made her and her family legends. She smirked resting her arms on the bars arrogantly.

“Afraid are we?” Oria whispered mockingly. Barbossa contemplated this, similarly mockingly thoughtful. Should he respond truthfully, she did make him afraid, she was still a wild spirit, with all the instability of her father and grandfather. Still if a young man could get her so calm and accepting then surely he could bring out the respect for one stronger and more knowledgeable. After all, she was only a woman; they always had weaknesses, that was what gave him confidence. He was already one step ahead of her without her even knowing it, biological strengths, she could not defeat a man who knew what he wanted and would do anything to gain it.

“Not really, after all you’re the one behind the bars and I’m the one with the key.” He dangled it from his fingertips watching with some amusement as her eyes followed it, he chuckled cruelly. There was the De Monara in her, the one that sought above all else to be free and in control of themselves and their own future. If it was up to him she would never truly regain the freedom she longed for, he sought to keep her below him where he could keep an eye on her. Where he could use her heritage and the knowledge that came with it to favour him. He wanted to become a legend bigger than her, bigger than her entire heritage.

“I know what you are Oria, I know you’re a De Monara. And I know what you long for, what you were bred for. Destruction, world wide dominance and freedom. Having the satisfaction that everyone fears you, whether they have met you or not, you long to be the worlds’ worst nightmare.” Oria had never heard it put like that before and watched as he stepped forwards again sensing the shift towards compliance. She knew that he knew of the legends, she had often heard him telling the crew in the still of the night. Of course she longed for freedom, but for people to fear her? There was that voice, it was purring ‘yes’, where was the other one, the one that had helped her so much where Jack was concerned, it was silent and still. It wanted the freedom too, it wanted the wildness, Jack wasn’t around to help quieten its’ more dominant counterpart. She knew what she wanted above all else.

“To renew the tales of old and make piracy once again create kings of nobodies.” Barbossa whispered, knowing full well that he had caught her attention, “Don’t deny it I see it in your eyes.” He took another step forwards. Barbossa could see the shift, the ever flickering soul that burned so brightly through those monstrous eyes; it allied itself with what ever would help it achieve what it longed for.

There was no loyalty in her, not really, unless, somehow, that person always had something she wanted, something to keep her attention riveted on them. So akin to the sea, she would change her currents to benefit those she liked and create whirlpools and storms around those that disfavoured her. It was like stepping through a quagmire; some of the land was solid, whereas, the rest would suck you in and choke you to death. This was Oria, except nothing was solid unless she chose it to be, it was her rules all the way, he sought to trick her into thinking she called the shots when really she was no more than a puppet in his theatre.

Barbossa had his own plans; Jack hadn’t had the knowledge to create an aura about himself by claiming he had control of a De Monara but Barbossa had the knowledge and the wit to use that information. With that blood that ran in her veins was the instinct of a pirate bred from centuries of pirates. Jack hadn’t paid attention to it, that was what had lead him to his downfall, naïve to the end, too young to know better. Barbossa would, he would glean all the knowledge she had to offer, use it to make himself the greatest pirate that ever lived. He took another wary step forwards, she would be his stepping stone to greatness; she would raise him into legend. Oria sighed and stepped backwards into the cell turning her back on him, Barbossa frowned in confusion as she sat on the floor facing the wall. In the corner of his eye Pintel stumbled down the steps ungracefully as the ship lurched beneath him.

“Captain, there’s an island in sight, just where Jack said there would be.” Barbossa followed him back up deck without a second glance at Oria.

Oria glared over her shoulder as he left, he would pay for trapping her in this hell hole. She knew his plans, he wanted greatness, he would get greatness and he would fall from those heights with one hell of a bang. Scrambling to her feet she began looking around the cell for anything to get her free with. There was nothing but rope and old crates, she leaned against the bars once more and began to think through everything that had happened.

Barbossa had made a point; her whole purpose had been to destroy anything she came across, to create a demon out of a human, to bring hell to earth. Hadn’t that been her family message though, to wreak havoc, to create hell on earth? Did she still want that, had she ever wanted that, did she even have a choice in the matter? That was something she could not answer yet.

All those years on Davy Jones ship her mind had been planning his demise. So focused on destroying him and not drawing attention to the fact that she was seeking his destruction. Now looking back on all those years spent on the ship of the damned she realised she hadn’t really thought about anything to do with herself, other than revenge. No exploring what she might have become if chance and fate hadn’t intervened.

Now she really thought about it that was all that had consumed her since she was ten years old and her father betrayed her. Abandoning her to nothing, praying she was dead or taken by some other person, she could have escaped this future; she could have escaped into what? A whore’s life? Sinking back down onto the planks she began to think about what life had been like before everything turned pear shaped and had thrown her in the deep end of the shark infested waters.

Oria remembered those days with her mother and sister, peaceful, quiet and carefree. It was so long ago as if she was watching someone else not herself, that little girl was so distant now, almost but not quite forgotten. Slowly she sank back into the corner of the cell and hugged her legs to her, what if she had chosen the wrong path? What if actually she had never been meant to be like this but something calmer, still with a bit of fire but a controlled fire not something that could blaze out of all proportion at the slightest antagonism?

Just like her father… the resemblance was uncanny, the same loss of control, the same twisted cunning, she had nothing from her mother. All the calm and patience, the unconditional love that had always flowed so easily from her and Anna-Li. She'd turned her back on them and what they could have taught her, so determined to catch her fathers' eye, to make him proud at being just like him. So desperate to please, to be seen as more than a thing to sell on, something to breed from, nothing more than a prize of flesh. Awe was a powerful tool in implementing a childs' future. What would have happened to her if her father hadn’t set her on the path of revenge and hatred but encouraged her to adopt half and half? Passion and fire but with control and empathy.

So many questions, so few answers and now no way of knowing. Was it possible to change after all those years of hatred for everything that had abandoned her, everything that might potentially abandon her? Perhaps she wasn’t brave at all but so afraid that it was her fear that created her ‘courage’.