Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

A Gilded Cage	By : SaMe Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 1949 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
A Gilded Cage: Sequel to Broken Wings, Part II of the Fallen
Sparrows Trilogy

A Pirates of the Caribbean
story by Merrie

Disclaimer: Jack, Norry, Liz,
Kruler, Kiquan, Lorelac, Jack and all others own me.
I would never attempt to claim otherwise.

Summary: Lorelac�s plotting his
revenge, Will has been murdered, Elizabeth is faced to raise her child alone,
Norrington�s the chief of a village of Lorelac�s
children, and Jack�s once more cursed with no cure in sight. Goodness me.

Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Chief James Norrington,
Elizabeth Swann, Lorelac, Julian Rusgrove and various
others.

Author�s Note: Sorry
again for the length of time it took me to post this. I had finals and I�ve
been told that they�re more important than writing fanfiction.
Who knew?

Rating: R for violence and language.

Chapter 11: Enemies and Egresses

�It�s been a week James, and still he doesn�t talk about
it,� Elizabeth said with a soft sigh. �He barely eats, he hardly sleeps and I
can�t honestly remember the last time I�ve seen him smile or heard him laugh.
I�m worried about him.�

�I know you are Elizabeth, but can you imagine what he must
be going through? And I don�t even know if he can eat anymore,� Norrington said somberly. �It�s no kind of
existence to be forced to endure. It almost makes me feel sorry for that band
of pirates we had all those troubles with last year.�

�But�I still don�t understand how it could have happened.
The curse was broken, James. Will�� It still hurt to say his name. �He broke
it. With the blood of his hand and Jack�s, he broke it. The curse was no more.�

�Apparently not, because now it�s back
again. You�ve seen it, Elizabeth. We�re not imagining it. Jack is
cursed. Whatever Will did to break it has been undone.
And I fear the consequences of that.�

�What do you mean?� Elizabeth asked worriedly.

�Jack wasn�t the only one cursed, Elizabeth, remember? What
has become of the band of pirates who were cursed with him? Are they cursed
once again as well? God only knows.�

�But�you hanged them. Didn�t you? I thought you hanged all
of them,� Elizabeth asked with a frown, being courteous enough not to say what
Norrington knew she was thinking: Because
that�s what you do with pirates. You hang them.

�Not all of them, I�m afraid. The more
dissolute of the lot got what they deserved of course, but I imprisoned a good
lot of them as well.� Even then he had been changed. Even then he knew that he
would never be able to do his job properly ever again. I am no longer the man I once was, he thought to himself as he
glanced down at his commoner�s clothes with the tiniest bit of regret. Not for
the loss of the bloodlust-yes, he was man enough to admit that that was what it
was-to hang pirates, but for the loss of everything else; his title, his home,
even his self-respect. He was a dishonoured officer whose only followers were a
bunch of uncultured savages who saw them as their chief only through murder. He
sometimes regretted that too. He regretted ever coming to this godforsaken
island.

�James?� Elizabeth�s soft, unimposing voice interrupted,
causing him to blink at her. Unimposing, that was a word he might not have used
to describe her a year ago, but so much had changed since then. She had lost
her husband, she hadn�t been to her home or to see her father in a week, but
worse of all, she seemed to have lost that spark that made her the adventurous
young woman who would take on a band of pirates on her own. Over the past week
she had become sullen and withdrawn in the advent of her fianc�s death. Norrington
couldn�t blame her, but he couldn�t find himself to accept this lesser
Elizabeth either. It wasn�t her, and it never would be.

�Yes, pardon my mind�s wandering, Elizabeth. You asked a
question?� Norrington asked, giving her his attention once more.

She almost seemed as if to tell him to forget whatever it
was she had said and to lapse back into contemplative silence, but she repeated
the question he hadn�t heard again anyway. �I asked if you thought the pirates
are going to come after us again.�

�Well, I imagine if they are indeed cursed, they will come
after us, yes. If only to attempt to find out what happened. That�s what I
would do in any case. Also, they might now of Will�s�passing. They might think
he�s the key to breaking the curse once more.�

�How can the curse
be back? I simply don�t understand. The curse was broken.� She took a breath. �His death shouldn�t have caused it
to come back.�

�I can�t claim to know the first thing about curses
Elizabeth, but I will give you my opinion.� Norrington took a breath to collect
his thoughts. �We both seem to have forgotten this, but do you remember back
when we were first going after Jack?� Elizabeth nodded slowly and Norrington
continued. �Do you remember how he knew that Jack needed help?�

Elizabeth frowned in thought. �He just knew. Somehow, he
just knew. But how can that be possible?�

�I can only assume that it has something to do with the
curse. I have a sinking suspicion that this whole curse business is a lot more
complicated than it sounds, and it sounds pretty bloody complicated already to
me. Pardon my language.�

Elizabeth nodded, trying to process all of this. �So�if they
were so connected by the curse of what have you, then�what is happening to Jack
now that that connection has been broken?�

Norrington had no answers for that one, only worries.

WWW

Off the west coast of Africa, in the pirate ship The
Hangman�s Knuckles

All was silent as Sparrow left Kruler�s cabin. The crew knew
what had gone on inside or at least they thought they did in any case. Two men
entered, and now one man left. It didn�t take much in the way of brains to know
that their young sparrow had decided he was tired of being theirs.

Each man knew what was going to happen when Sparrow entered
their former captain�s cabin. They were neither blind nor fools. They knew he
wanted the ship and would take it no matter the cost. They all to a man stood
behind him as well. Those who Sparrow hadn�t killed were the ones who were
smart enough to save their own skins by following him.

Julian Rusgrove was the first to
speak up as Sparrow said not a word after he had come out of the cabin. Each
man wanted to know what was going to happen next-if he was indeed their new
captain or not, if he was going to attempt to slaughter them all or not-but it
took who every crew member thought as the most ruthless crew member
aboard-second to Sparrow of course-to gather up the nerve to ask. �So, are you
our new bloody captain or what, Sparrow?� Rusgrove
growled impatiently, his numerous gold teeth flashing as he clenched his jaw,
waiting for an answer.

Sparrow shook his head. �Sparrow isn�t. Sparrow�s dead,� he
said so calmly that a few of the crew began to wonder if that wasn�t the truth
and they were talking to his ghost right now.

�And what is that supposed to mean?� Rusgrove
asked incredulously. Members of the crew would have told him to stop asking
questions that could get him killed by the wild eyed man standing in front of
them, but they were afraid of being killed by Rusgrove
himself for the presumption.

Sparrow looked at Rusgrove in much
the way a benevolent father would look at an unruly child; as if he understood
that it wasn�t Rusgrove�s fault he was asking such
questions. �Simple, Julian.� A wave of discomfort went through the gathered
crew at that. While Julian Rusgrove might have been
young-only twenty three by the best reckoning-he had made it implicitly clear
that he would kill if you so much looked at him crooked, and would make you
wish you were dead if you were to ever
call him by his first name. Sparrow went on as if he called the blonde haired
young murderer by his first name ever day. �I�m not Sparrow.�

�Oh really?� Rusgrove
asked, unbelievably seeming to shrug off the fact that Sparrow called him by
his first name. �Then who are you? Jack? John? Edward? The
bloody king of England?�

�Captain John Pardal,� Sparrow answered after a moment�s
hesitation.

Rusgrove snorted. �John Pardal. Sure, mate. You do know that Pardal means
sparrow in Portuguese, don�t you? Of course you do. So you�re our captain now,
is that it? And I suppose if I were to enter the cabin behind you, I�d find
Kruler�s body ready for shark bait?�

Sparrow, or Pardal or whatever the bloody hell his name was
now, nodded. �See for yourself. All of you. I choked
the bastard with his own false eye,� Pardal said with a smug grin.

�Aye, Captain,� Rusgrove said with
a grin himself. He had never liked the bastard anyway. What should he care if
Sparrow/Pardal killed him?

Sparrow gave him a calculating look, having heard the title Rusgrove had bestowed upon him but not quite believing that
it wasn�t without sarcasm yet. �This is my ship now. Anyone who wants to
contend with that is more than welcome to try. Just so we�re clear, I�ll kill
anyone who does.� From the way he said it, there was no doubt in any of the
crew�s minds that he meant it.

Once more however, the crew fell silent as the watched and
waiting for Rusgrove�s reaction. Most of them
knew-and accepted-that if there was to be a challenge for the leadership of the
ship, it would come from him. After a few moments had passed without Rusgrove saying a word, they unconsciously began to prepare
for a fight, mentally siding with whoever they thought
would win, whether it be Jack Sparrow/Pardal or Julian Rusgrove.
Then suddenly, Rusgrove let out a laugh and grinned
wide like a madman. �Looks as if the captain�s off to a good start already,
wouldn�t you say, mates?� Julian didn�t want control of the ship. He was more
than willing to give Sparrow whatever control he felt he needed to feel good
about himself; as long as Julian got his cut, of course.

Sparrow kept giving him a look-the one which felt like he
was seeing straight through to your soul without even trying-before nodding
slowly. They had reached an accord. And what was more,
Rusgrove saw Sparrow�s look change from calculating
to thoughtful. It wasn�t hard to figure what had just occurred to their new
captain. Sparrow needed a first mate and Julian Rusgrove
was just the man for the job.

WWW

Well, this is
certainly an interesting development, Lorelac thought to himself dryly. Not
only was he trapped within the consciousness of a man who had been able to
defeat him, but said man was now cursed as well. Lorelac could feel the sharp
claws of the curse tearing their way through Jack�s brain, searching for him.
The curse couldn�t abide competitors to its rein, and Lorelac was certainly
that; if not so much at the moment.

We know you�re in
here, the curse hissed, a barrage of voices-Lorleac
couldn�t tell if they were male or female-came from every direction,
surrounding him.

�You don�t frighten me, you insignificant worm. You are
nothing when compared to my might. You are but a vengeful curse. I am a god. I
am Lorelac, god of mischief and storms, of death and destruction.

It is you who are
nothing. We are older than time itself. We are
eternal. We are the first.

�Now, I know you�re bloody lying. You�re an Aztec curse.
You�re not that old,� Lorelac said
with a sneer.

The Aztecs did not
create us; they merely used us. They
offered many sacrifices in exchange for the power to destroy their enemies. We
did their work well but not before seeing to the destruction of their entire
civilization. They would not call upon us again.

�If that were true, then why are you still doing their
bidding?� Lorelac asked smugly.

You are foolish to
think that.

�What? That you aren�t doing your masters� biddings even
after all these years? You are! You�ve cursed Sparrow!�

This being is merely a
vessel for our power. He does not yet know it, but we have great work in store
for him. As you did. You didn�t choose him by
accident. It was fated.

Lorelac snorted at that. �I�m in charge of my own fate. I
chose Sparrow because he was convenient, not because of anything having to do
with fate or destiny. I am a god. I create my own destiny.�

You are weak, Lorelac.
You are the god of nothing for you fear everything. It�s unsurprising he
defeated you so easily.

�He did not defeat me! He can never defeat me! He is nothing! He�s is but a mere mortal! He
has no power to stand up to the very gods themselves!� Lorelac roared, his rage
echoing throughout Jack�s mind. Laughter began to come from all around him;
starting off slow and soft at first but soon crescendoing
into mass hysteria. Lorelac clamped his
hands over his ears under the onslaught, unable to stand the force of it any
longer. He felt as if he were being shaken apart by the very sound. Then, as if
knowing he had reached the breaking point, the laughter stopped and all was silence.

WWW

�Jack, if you won�t talk to Elizabeth, talk to me,�
Norrington�s voice came sliding into his consciousness; slipping around his
defenses with the ease of a well trained soldier. Jack could hear the worry in
the former commodore�s voice; could practically see it in his face without even
looking at him. �You�ve got to talk to someone, you bloody daft pirate! You
can�t just sit out here on the beach all day not doing anything! I won�t allow
it!�

Jack blinked up at him incredulously. Norrington�s normally
pale face-despite a life spent in the Caribbean sunshine-was flushed. He was
clearly angry. But why? What did he have to be angry
about? Did he even consider Will a friend? Jack wasn�t
so sure. He had never asked, merely assumed. Why else would Norrington have
come with the late blacksmith to save one man�s life who
he had nearly ended the year before? Jack could only assume that it was because
they were friends. Either that or he wanted to look after Elizabeth�s safety.
Jack never considered that it was because Norrington respected or considered
him a friend. Military men-even former ones-did not associate with pirates. And
the reverse was true as well, wasn�t it? Then why did Norrington seem so
concerned?

�Snap out of it, you damn daft pirate! So you�re cursed!
You�re not going to break that curse by simply sitting here and being bloody
useless!� Norrington yelled at him.

Jack looked at him. In addition to his flushed cheeks, there
was now a vein popping out in the middle of the man�s forehead. Norrington
truly was angry. Jack couldn�t
believe it. Norrington never got angry. Vengeful yes, but
never purely full of rage like he was now. That fact alone inclined Jack
to speak, if only to discover the real source for that uncharacteristic rage.
�What do you want, Norrington?� Jack asked slowly, casting his eyes out to sea.
Although he wanted to know the real source for Norrington�s rage, he couldn�t
really force himself to care that much. He wanted to know, but if he never
found out, that would be acceptable too. He simply just didn�t care.

Norrington let out an incredulous laugh at that. �I want you
to start acting like yourself again, Jack. I want you to be bloody Captain Jack Sparrow again. And for
god�s sake, I want you to eat something.�

�Why? What�s the point? I�m cursed. I�m dead. Sooner or
later it won�t matter if I don�t eat,� Jack murmured, still staring out to sea
where the tattered visage of the Pearl-cursed alongside her captain-rolled in
the waves. In lieu of an answer, Norrington gave him a sound slap across the
cheek. It was much harder, Jack noted, than the usual slaps he got. And his
hands were quite larger too. �Bloody hell! What was
that for? I didn�t deserve that!� Jack spluttered, bringing a hand up to his
stinging cheek and glaring up at Norrington with spiteful eyes.

�Ah, glad to see I�ve finally got your attention, Jack,�
Norrington said dryly as he met Jack�s stare without flinching. �Now you listen
here. You�re going to snap out of whatever this is and help us break the curse.
You seem to have notice that your ship is once more as she was, correct?�
Norrington asked, nodding towards the Pearl.

Jack scowled. �Of course I bloody noticed. She�s my ship.�

�Obviously you haven�t considered what that means. The curse
is active once more. I fear that means that everyone who was once cursed is now
cursed again. Including all of your pirate�friends.�

Jack frowned at this, clearly not having considered it.
Norrington couldn�t really bring himself to blame him, not with Will�s death weighing
on his mind. �I assumed you had them all hanged once
we reached Port Royal.�

Norrington actually managed to look embarrassed. Jack could
have sworn he saw him scuff a foot into the sand, but it was probably his
imagination. �I did hang some. I hanged the wretched creatures who would have gone on to kill the innocent were they ever
to escape. The rest I imprisoned.�

�In Port Royal?� Jack asked,
turning away from Norrington once more but his expression now one of thought
rather that blank grief. Norrington murmured an assent to the question. �If
they�re cursed again they�ll know they can�t die. They will no longer care
about the consequences of their actions if they realise they�re immortal.
They�ll do anything to get free.�

�I fear it�s probably already too late for that,� Norrington
said solemnly, wishing there were some way he could get word from Port Royal to
confirm whether or not his fears were fact. He had a sinking suspicion that
they were.

WWW

Port Royal

�Commodore Gillette, sir. We�ve received
word that the pirates in the prison cells are causing some sort of
disturbance,� a young guard informed the new commodore in a clipped voice,
trying to hide his disdain that the sniveling little worm had ever reached such
a lofty position of power. The men had stood behind Commodore Norrington, even
if the officers hadn�t.

�What should it matter if they are? They can�t escape the
cells,� Gillette said smugly before tilting his head a little as if he were in
deep thought. �In fact, I�d day it was about time we�ve hanged them all. Better
to free up the cells, you know.�

�But Commodore Norrington said��

�Mr. Norrington is
no longer with us, soldier. His decrees and promises no longer matter. Have
them all hanged. Right now,� Gillette said evenly, his face betraying his
annoyance at the soldier�s insubordinance. �And if
you ever speak to me in that tone
again, I�ll have you flogged. Do I make myself clear?�

�Yes, Commodore,� the soldier said evenly, keeping his
desire to strangle the pompous bastard�s scrawny neck, despite the satisfaction
it would bring.

�Good,� Gillette said with a nod. �See that it�s done, and
that no one disturbs me with such petty concerns as a group of pirates causing
a little noise.�

The soldier just clenched his jaw, nodded, and left.

WWW

The pirates were in fact, creating more than just a little noise. They were creating a veritable
din of chaos and anarchy seeming to stem from last night�s full moon. No one
could quite figure out why. Up until that time, they had been model prisoners.
Well, as model as a group of captured pirates could be in any case.

�You can�t keep us in here forever! It�s not right!� one of
the pirates yelled; a thin young man with scraggly hair and a wooden eye. The
guards had never bothered to learn any of their names. They were probably all
named Mad Bill or Half-Cocked Jack anyway. Pirate names as a whole never seemed
very creative, just�colorful. �Especially now that we�re immort��
he was cut off by a hand placed over his mouth by his companion, a balding man
with pocky skin and yellowed teeth. The same man
seemed just about to say something when one of his fellow pirates pulled out a
knife from somewhere-the guards who witnessed it were all dumbfounded at its
appearance, they supposedly had taken all of their weapons-and stabbed him in
the back with it.

�You stabbed me!� the pirate yelled before receiving a
pointed glare from the man who had stabbed him and nodding; falling face-first
to the floor.

The guards immediately leaped into action as if they had
been waiting for such an action to occur ever since the group of pirates had
been imprisoned. What followed next was pure anarchy. There were no surviving
guards to witness, but if there had been, this is what they would have seen: as
soon as one of the guards opened the door-fully armed of course-to check on the
fallen pirate, said pirate so startled the young guard that the group was able
to overpower him without fuss. Unfortunately the only thing the good Samaritan earned himself a quick death at the hands of
the man he had been trying to help.

The group of once imprisoned pirates found things quite easy
after that. What had begun as the day of their eventual executions had ended in
their escapes. Before the event had taken place however, each man had agreed on
one course of action for the future: to find out who had cursed them again and
have their guts for garters.

WWW

Gillette was praying. He didn�t really believe in God but he
figured that what with everything going on around him, he could use all the
help he could get. He kneeled as he prayed, hopefully securely hidden away
beneath his desk. It was a coward�s act, he knew, but that didn�t incline his
movements any. He stayed right where he was and kept praying. That was, until
he heard the door to his office open and a gruff voice mutter to his companion.
�Where did that worm run off to now? He was going to have us all hanged, you
know.�

�That�s not right! We didn�t do anything to him!� his
companion giggled like a little boy now. �Except intend to
kill him.�

Gillette paled and stopped praying. Now, he was cursing
Admiral Kleeson for ever giving him this job, and the
former Commodore Norrington for ever leaving it. If it hadn�t been for them, he
would have been safe on a ship somewhere, not hiding beneath his bloody desk.

�We know you�re in here!� One of the pirates-Pintel he thought the wretch was named-called out
mockingly. They know where I am,
Gillette thought suddenly, his form beginning to tremble. Gone was the smugness
he dealt to everyone in his life, leaving behind a gut-wrenching terror. They
were going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Get your pistol, you fool! Fight back! Don�t
sit here and die like a dog! His hand never even moved for the pistol. He
would die a coward.

WWW

The Isle de Muerta was certainly
living up to its name. Save for the occasional calling of gulls who dared not
land on the barren landscape, there was nothing. Wind howled through the
caverns of the otherwise silent treasure cave like a lover who had just shot
his companion. This was a place of grief and death. It held curses and torment
for whomever it was able to ensnare into its grasp. Men coming looking for fame
and fortune were lucky to leave with their lives. And yet even as the stories
about such a dreadful place spun and grew, still foolhardy men ventured into
its stony heart and came out changed; if they came out at all.

And so time passed. Men came and went, leaving behind their
blood and their treasure. The island hoarded it all in its bloody jaws, waiting
to snap at any who dared to take it. Curses were woven among coins and flesh
alike, coming and going as the sifting of sand. Lest it not be said that the
Aztecs laid claim to the only curse held within the island�s grasp. If such
thing were claimed to those who knew what horrors the island held, they would
have laughed at such a baseless claim. There was no Aztec curse. There never
had been. The Aztecs had been greedy and their gods had abandoned them. Only
devils and demons still heard their cries from the depths of oblivion,
answering their cries for vengeance when it amused them. Each piece of bloodied
treasure in the cavern was tied to some darker deed or promise. Each moment of
pleasure taken from such wealth was only a hundred moments of pain that would
be suffered.

The garishly carved chest and the gold held within had only
been a means to an end. The gold was flawless and within plain sight; a
surefire lure to greedy men. The curses had called; they had placed their
agents in the world to ensure they were being heard, and then the waited. There
was something to be said for the patience of beings older than time itself. But
they needn�t have waited long. Men always came. The wheel always turned. They
were eternal; infallible. No one had ever stood up to their might. No one had
dared Until�

All the beings of the lower realms both knew and cursed his
name; Sparrow. To only whisper it was to invite disaster. Before, the name Turner had been held with equal
revulsion and fear, but now that had changed. Now there was only Sparrow. He who had nearly defeated the
most powerful of them without a moment�s regard to the consequences his actions
had set in motion. He was a man and therefore foolish, but his actions in this
very cave were too incomprehensibly stupid as to not be believed. But it didn�t
matter now. He was a man and like all men he was weak. His end had already been
set in motion and he hadn�t the slightest clue. His both greatest friend and
deadliest foe was taking his place on the stage.

While all the creatures of hell watched avidly and the hosts
of heaven anxiously, an unseen force seemed to coalesce throughout the interior
of the treasure cache, spilling precariously balanced treasures in its haste to
reach its destination. It came to rest before a decayed mass of bone and scraps
of hair and flesh that might have once been a man and looked down upon it
dispassionately. The being cared not for the outcome of its
actions, only in achieving its work. With this thought floating around
in a piece of darkness that might have been its mind, it set about to do its
job. Flesh and bone knit back together, the tattered clothing filling out once
more as smooth unmarked flesh formed beneath it. Dark hair grew luxurious and thick,
far healthier than it had ever been in life. Teeth that had once been rotting
and yellowed were pale and perfect in a cruelly twisting pair of pale lips.
Such changes were wrought without thought or hesitation; the being only did as
it was bid. Sparrow had to fall. Hell
would send its own warrior to make sure that happened. Even as the changes were
marked over the now breathing form of a man beneath the being�s cold touch, one
thing remained the same. A pair of eyes snapped open that
were so cold and cruel they might have pinned the very devil himself
under their intense gaze. There was no pity in them. The man knew what he had
to do.

WWW

Across the seas, Jack stirred fitfully in his sleep as
Norrington kept a wary watch. The former military man had just been about to
doze of himself despite the pirate�s occasional mutterings, when Jack shot up
with a strangled cry, the name Barbossa
still echoing throughout the room.

TBC

A/N: Well hmm�I had always intended to bring Barbossa back,
but not quite like this. This story seems to be turning into some kind of epic
battle for Jack�s soul. Who knew? I hope this doesn�t turn any of you away
though. I only write it as it comes to me. Anyway, see you next chapter.

Well goodness me, you guys rock. Without you, I�d never have
the motivation nor the inclination to keep continuing
this fic anywhere else but within my own head. ;-) Thanks again.

-Merrie
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Gilded Cage