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Legends of the Treasure Child: Sparrow's Nest	By : Sparrowbirdie Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5265 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Carribbean and I do not own Troy. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Knowing he had been spotted, the man stood to his full height. He was almost as tall as John, and he wore a simple, sand-coloured loincloth. Jack was puzzled. He'd always imagined elves to be tender and beautiful creatures. The man's skin was a dusty grey, shrivelled up like a grape which had been out in the sun too long, and it was decorated with various scars. He had long, blond straight hair which reached down to his waist. It was wet, and clung to his forehead. But he had handsome, terrified blue eyes. His body was bony, and one could sense how elegant and breathtaking it could have been. But it was as if almost all of the juice, the blood and the vitality had dried away. The stranger stared at John for the longest of times, his blue eyes shone in the half dark with unearthly light. Jack recognized the stare. It was the same puzzled look which most people gave John whenever they laid eyes on him for the first time. It was a gaze complied of wonder, awe, amazement and mostly fear, silently asking 'what ARE you?' But this man, this elf from thousands of years ago, had a hint of recognition which washed across his face for a brief second.
“Another demon! Oh to have come this far after so many, many years on the run in this hostile land. And for what? She whispered to me of salvation, like a mother beckoning for her child to seek shelter in her womb! At least then, you're not one of them. You are … a different kind of demon” the elven man lowered his gaze and swallowed. He spoke of the Crimson Lotus. He had emphasized the word different, and it made Jack raise one eyebrow. This creature knew what who John was. The withered elf clenched his fists and shut his eyes tight, clearly bracing himself for his moment of death. “What ...” he continued with gritted teeth, “must I give? What sacrifice must I make, so that what remains of my people will live? That they may be restored to the surface of the Earth?” he spoke swiftly and in something resembling ancient Gaelic.
John was hesitant. He looked as if he was smelling something foul decaying in the streets. He raised his head and filled his lungs with air, inhaling sharply through his nose.
Sacrifice.
John shut his eyes for a brief second, and in the minute he closed his eyelids, the bleeding and suffering Christ on the cross flared up across his retina. From across time and through the veil of death, Christ compelled him. It occurred to John that this elf, this creature from a forgotten time, was of importance. Or rather, it was crucial that John made the right decision about the fate of this creature. The blond fell to his knees with a heavy thud. He stretched out his arms, turning his hands palm up in a begging manner. His face was so naked with destitution it ached in Jack's chest.
“What makes you think there are more of your kind out there?” John wanted to know.

“How can I not have hope? If I abandon hope, I abandon life itself.”
“ – you haven't given me your name” John parried patiently. He needed time. The future before his inner eye evolved too slowly. The elf tensed. The small glimmer of hope which had been lit on his face as he realised he had been able to enter into negotiations with the demon, quickly faded. It occurred to him that he was faced with an opponent of a different calibre than the flesh-eating black-skinned demonic masses hunting the hillsides.
“I will not give it. Gatekeeper.” That last remark was meant as an attack. He hoped to gain some sort of power by stating that he knew of John's vocation. The man with the shrivelled, grey skin gazed at John with a look mixed of fear and defiance. He held his head high, his back straight though Jack could tell that the elf was shaking with terror. Jack had to grin weakly. He knew the feeling all too well. Here was a creature which was attempting to hold his ground against a demon far more superior.
“You think that here you are, with nothing to lose. Your people, your way of living is gone, you have lost everything. You think me cold and heartless and you worry that I might actually force the name from your mind. As it happens, my dear Sir, I do know a thing or two about elves. One is: If you rape their minds, you rape their souls. And if that happens, they die of grief. So I will not force myself on you mentally, for I trust that you see how I differ from ordinary demons, not only because of my vocation as the Gatekeeper of Hell, but also because of my humanity. Which sees you. Savvy?!”
The elf gave no reply. He only returned John's stare with coldness.
“Very well. If you choose to fend for your integrity, than that's your prerogative. But for now, you remain my bounty. I may not be able to impose on your soul, but I am very capable of imposing on your body.” John sighed, obviously not satisfied with the stubborn elf.
“You must help us” the elf replied quietly, ignoring John's little speech.
“I am the Gatekeeper. Mine is the prerogative to stay neutral in such situations. I am only here to find the blue stone.”
“I know not of such a stone” the elf replied weakly, “I know only of a memory of the sky flaring up in blue, one time. Lightning shot through the clouds in every direction, hammering into the land, and then – then came a blue star which fell fast. It had a tail of shimmering blue light which sparkled –!”
“ – you will guide me there. ”
“Promise to save my people. I beg you!”
“You are in no position to make demands” John retorted. His face was slowly adopting an angry red tint, making it obvious to Jack that John was losing his patience. “Father” John told Jack almost sternly, “please leave us.”
'Please leave us' meant that John was going to be blunt about it with the elf, and the things he would be saying would come from his role as a Gatekeeper. They would be razor-sharp and uncompromising, and they would be hurtful. It would be the truth and it would start a chain of thoughts which would throw Jack into a deep depression. It was the kind of talk only someone as cruel and demonic as Saieros could come up with. And John was – ultimately Saieros' brother – meaning he had every potential to verbally harm anyone he chose to direct his ill will towards. It wouldn't be directed towards Jack, but it would be enough to make it seriously uncomfortable for any bystander. Jack – wise from earlier damage – left the cargo hold without opening his mouth.
“Trust me when I say that I know just how foul demon kings can be. I know what the leader of this plane is after. It's nothing new! He wants a champion elf who can produce for him a warlord or two. A warlord fit to match me in power any day. I would rather see the entire destruction of the elven race than stand face to face with such an adversary. In fact, I would rather help him hunt you all down just to find the champion so I could destroy him myself. I will not suffer to see an elven Child Bearer in the hands of the Demon king of the Second Plane of Hell.”
Just as John had spoken the last word 'Hell' did a new insight cloud his vision. And he knew it in the depths of his very soul. He immediately felt like an utter fool, for in deed, this was the elven champion. And in that same moment, an internal struggle set loose, as John's humanity – which was a part of Jack's legacy as a compassionate human being – clashed together with his demon nature. Suppressing the urge to strangle this champion, John winced internally, knowing the future of this being now was standing at the crossroads: If John forced him out there again, to go looking for the Tear of God, then they would come face to face with the demon king's subordinates. It would lead to a seriously dangerous situation. It would lead up to the point where John might actually have to kill the elf in order not to lose the elf to the enemy. If he kept him locked inside the Crimson Lotus, the last of the elves would survive, but it would take forever to retrieve the stone. The way John saw it, there was only one option.
“Have you ever been claimed by a demon before?”
“No” the elf replied slightly confused and baffled by the unexpected question. John took a step towards him.
“Have you ever been with another man?”
“Yes. But why –?!”
“ – here's my bargain. You will show me the way to the blue stone. I will give you my protection. I will claim you. And the Demon King will not want to be putting his nasty tentacles on you, savvy?”
“Yes – I – I understand, but – !”
“ – but what?” John stepped even closer.
“ – there's going to be a child – !” the elf whispered. He cast his gaze downwards. “Elves – and – and demons...!” There's always a child. First time around.”
“Then I must ask you to look after it for me very carefully. And when time comes, I expect complete obedience. From all of you.”
“All … of ... us?” the elf raised his gaze. Comprehension set in as he realised that John had just given him the promise. Any elf that crossed John's path, would be helped.
“I want your first born” John whispered. He fixed his gaze unto the shining blue eyes of the elf, large as they were in the great cavities which had formed in the eye sockets. “No other demon shall have you. Swear it.”
“I swear – I swear!” the elf replied breathlessly. They were so close now the tips of their noses almost touched.
“Now” John said, “tell me your name.”
“Agwyn Réalta Thuaidh” the elf swiftly replied in Gaelic.
“Angwyn North Star?”
“I – I am the youngest of six brothers born to the king and queen of the northern elves.” Prince Angwyn cast his gaze down. He spoke fast and quietly, as if he was suddenly ashamed of his heritage. “My brothers and my parents are dead. I – we – the elves – we feel the deaths of other elves...!” John was uncomfortably close to him.
“Why are you ashamed?” John asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, thought the prince couldn't lose any more colour in his face than he already had. He shot John a glance which silently asked if John didn't already know. If this question was some kind of mockery. When he understood that John waited for an answer, the prince opened his mouth and cleared his throat.
“My people have never known slavery. We always prided ourselves on being a free people. Now …, I must forever bind myself and my first born to your will.”
He turned his head to gaze as the wall next to them began to melt. On a small ledge formed a small bottle with some scented liquid in it.
“Your sacrifice will not be in vain” John ensured him. “Turn around. We must do this and then be on our way.”
Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh did as he was told. But his lower lip began to tremble, and his forehead – through already wrinkled from too many millenniums without moisture – creased up in fear and tension. He tried to take comfort in the thought that this was simply business taking place between noblemen. This was Aloysius D'Or, the Gatekeeper, the youngest son of the Demon King of the Seventh Plane of Hell and Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh of a once vast elven realm to the north. From a time when the continents still hadn't parted. From a time when Nature wasn't under siege by Men and their destructive ways. He was John's senior by thousands of years, but times had never been more dire for the elven race. This was a necessary but painful sacrifice which called upon every bit of humbleness and self-control.
John coated his fingers with the thick, oily substance in the small jar. It smelled pleasantly of spices, of cinnamon, coriander and ginger. He parted the scrawny cheeks of the prince's backside – which hardly existed – and found the entrance with his fingers. He felt the prince tense up.
“My lord” the prince gasped, “is this – treatment – really necessary?”
“I do not intend to harm you more than necessary. The sooner I claim you, the better. Consider it a formality.” John inserted and removed his finger time and again with long, slow movements, coating the prince's opening with more oil, making it slick and shiny in the dim light in the cargo hold. He could tell that the prince was bracing himself for the pain.
“You need a bath” John commented, as he drew circles on the prince's skinny cheeks. Mixing ointment and a fine layer of dirt. John wasn't particularly enticed by what he saw. This shrivelled up, frightened thing which bore a strong resemblance to a paper doll come alive, had nothing about it which turned him on. Perhaps except for the eyes. But the prospect of a waiting hole never failed to work its magic. John was not particularly amazed to see that he could produce a hard on from his breeches despite the miserable state the prince was in. As soon as he was ready, he pushed himself in, taking more care than before to be gentle. John nearly expected the frail prince to crumble between his hands if he was too rough. The prince hissed at the sharp pain. John could see his muscles working – breathing – to come to terms with the pain. The gatekeeper put his fingers around the hipbones and began to thrust. The prince gave a sob, but then silenced. John understood. As with any royalty it was expected of them to be above average and withstand everything thrown in their way. All though there were no other spectators, the prince was working hard to defend that reputation. Towards the end, the prince winced at every thrust. Numbed and sore, one could tell from his stance that he was in pain and suffering under the strain that John was putting on him. Burying himself to the hilt one final time, John grunted with satisfaction and pulled out. The business affair was over.
Jack Sparrow was just about to wipe Israel's mouth as the doors to the captain's cabin opened. In came that peculiar shrivelled up man which looked like unbleached paper which had been lying around on a rock for too long, and John. John shut the doors.
“May I present His Royal Highness Prince Agwyn Réalta Thuaidh” John said. He turned towards the prince, glanced at Jack and said in ancient Gaelic: “Your Highness, allow me to introduce to you Captain Jack Sparrow, my father through birth and Child Bearer to the descendants of the Demon King of the Seventh Plane of Hell.”
Jack understood the formalities taking place. John was placing him in the ranks of kings and queens. Brilliant. The children peered at the newcomer from behind his thighs, and Jack suddenly felt awkward as he remembered that he was standing there, on attention with a nappy in one hand and a wet cloth in the other. Oh whatever. He gave the prince a curt nod before commencing with the task at hand, taking Israel by surprise and cleaning his lips while the boy stared in wonder at the strange looking newcomer.
“Welcome to the Lotus” Jack grinned and wished for a bottle of rum, “the food's still hot I think and he looks like he really could use some.” Jack nodded towards the prince, glad to know that the shrivelled up man didn't understand him. The prince only half-heartedly listened as John motioned for him to come further into the cabin. “But I'm afraid the water's gone a wee bit cold” he continued, nodding towards the wooden bath tub. John had to take the prince gently by the arm and lead him over.
Prince Angwyn hardly sensed the lukewarm water which soaked his thighs and stomach as he absent-mindedly sat down into the generous tub made from wood. The children partly flew partly jumped over to him, and they took their stand behind John's legs, wrapping their tiny arms around his firm thighs while they stared wide-eyed and somewhat shyly at him.
“Are you a scarecrow?” Jacob wanted to know.
A fair question, Jack had to give him that, but still he hushed the boy. John handed the prince some soap.
“Wh – why is his skin like that? Is he a – a demon?” Elijah whispered to Jamie.
Jamie was about to speak, when John interrupted him. “He's a survivor. Once, elves walked the surface of the Earth. Then, for some reason, the Earth opened and swallowed them. And they ended up in this dreadful place. The natives, demons, began to hunt them. Like I said” John turned to gaze into Elijah's face, “genocide”.
“But – but his skin …?!”
“Elves cannot die unless they are slain.”
This silenced Elijah. He glanced at the prince in the bathtub, feeling nothing but deep empathy. To think of the horrors he must have seen. The prince was rinsing his hair. Once rid of the grime and sweat which had accumulated over the years, a vibrant golden colour appeared, brilliant as the ripe crops on the fields during autumn. And his skin wasn't grey, but a normal skin tone, though discoloured from lack of sunshine and food. Elijah, Jamie, John, Jack and the children watched this modest transformation, pleased with the result which rose from the tub. With so many eyes on him, the prince now gained back his modesty. Jack found him some clothes. A linen shirt to cover his torso, and a pair of trousers. The clothes looked extremely displaced on the unhealthily thin frame. But it was better than nothing.
He was offered a chair next to the captain's table, where a silver plate awaited with steamy food. It was a spicy stew, and the prince picked up the silver fork next to the plate. He studied it while he tried to retrieve long lost memories of how it was to use cutlery. Piercing a modest piece of sliced ham made him wince. Hesitating, he observed the meat, soaked as it were in sauce and spices. It smelled lovely. Swallowing hard, he put it into his mouth.
An elf's collective memory was sometimes all he had. With it, he could reach his brethren on the other side of the sphere. It allowed him to benefit from the experiences made by generations past. Once learned, it was never forgotten. Here, in Hell, the mental link between the elves were weakened. But it wasn't weak enough for prince Angwyn to able to ignore the cries which surfaced now and then from the unfortunate ones of his people who had been dragged down into the hot, damp places where the demons lived. He knew that they were kept alive down there, possessed and raped over and over until they became with child. And with the terrorizing knowledge that they were the hosts of monsters which would kill them within seconds after their births, the poor elves lingered, unable to escape, unable to end it before that last terrible moment. There weren't many of them left. But there were some. Prince Angwyn put the fork down. He brought the goblet to his lips and drank. It wasn't fresh, but it was water. He drank with spite, forcing himself to down all of it, knowing he would need the strength and rejuvenation. If he was to save his people, to save those unfortunate souls, he had to be strong. But he couldn't sit around any more and eat, knowing what was going on out there.
He raised up from the chair a little too fast. The chair reared and fell to the deck with a loud, dry noise. Prince Angwyn's gaze darted across the onlookers, suddenly ashamed to have caused such a stir. There was no explaining how he felt.
As they set out from the shore once more, this time led across the plains by a guide, Elijah drew closer to Jamie and whispered: “Had I been as scrawny as that I would have emptied the plate. I hear that real demons don't eat. Do you think – ?!”
“ – I'm thinking that crewmen and children ought to be seen but not heard, savvy?” Jack moved up to the young lovers and shot Elijah a stern glance. “John sees straight through a person's soul. And if he be saying that this bloke is a prince from some long forgotten realm, then so be it. It be the truth. You think otherwise, Mister Devon? Tell it to John's face. Or even better, keep it to yourself, savvy?”
“I'm sorry” Elijah pardoned himself with choked voice, “but I wasn't raised to take the word of demons for granted. I – my father – he –!”
“ – did everything he could to give you a good and decent upbringing I'm sure” Jack almost sneered. He shot Elijah one of his famous glances with narrowed, Kohl-rimmed eyes and continued: “Well, Mister Devon, as I am sure that Mister Scarborough no doubt already has informed you, that the church is much misinformed on several fields, and that they continue to spread their misinformation nonetheless. You must – unlearn – what you have been taught as a child. Open your eyes and learn how to distinguish good from evil. One man's demon is another man's angel.”
To this, Elijah had no reply. He was still feeling like he was a part of some never-ending dream. He looked at the children, their unveiled smiles and their wings, as they effortlessly travelled through the air, restrained by the harness and the cord leading down to their father. Jack would glance up quite often to check their positions, an the way he tilted his head and shot them a glance, told Elijah that he had done this a million times.
“Captain?” Elijah suddenly asked, as they made their way across a section of large rocks. “Why do you do it?”
“What do you mean?” Jack replied, pretending to not understand the question.
“Why do – give yourself – to these demons? How come you allow them to use your body to manifest ..?!” Elijah was so busy talking he almost walked straight into John, who had stopped. He had turned and was nailing Elijah to the dusty ground with glowing, unforgiving eyes.
“All right, John. Come now, it's just an honest question from a very young lad who's not done his time on deck.” Jack stopped next to his son to catch his breath. Boy, the baby in his belly was really getting heavy. Feeling like a whale stranded on land, Jack shot his full-grown, half-demon son a glance telling him to stand down.
Elijah turned his head to gaze at Jack, thankful for the friendly intervention. His heart was beating so hard he thought it would explode from his chest at any second. John looked like he was about strangle Elijah on the spot.
“Look. We all have our demons to fight, savvy? I have, as a pirate, pillaged, plundered and done countless murders. And for that, this demon of mine decided I would spend eternity suffering. And the way I would be doing said suffering is by being raped then have his children who hopefully would grow up to be evil little bastards just like their demon dad, savvy? But love, savvy, love truly is the strongest of them all. Now, the demon assumed that because I'm a pirate, I don't know love. And if I raise my children with love, believing in the goodness, the humanity in them, then they see for themselves what a sorry bastard the demon father is, and they don't follow him. Got it?” Jack smirked and winked at Elijah, who was a little more than slightly confused.
“L – love? As in Love, hope and faith?”
“Precisely” Jack replied, climbing the last rock. Coming over it, he – like the rest of the group – laid eyes on a distant top on the hillside. In the bleak daylight, it hadn't been visible before, but now as twilight had set in for real, one lonely beam of pure blue light could be seen. It originated from a crater on the very top of the hill, and its beam of blue light continued straight into the sky, dividing the heavy clouds and continuing upwards. Surrounding the crater was a magical sight, and prince Angwyn stumbled and almost fell as his mind struggled to take in what he was looking at. Trees. The ground on the hillside was covered in a patchwork of white bones, skulls and boulders. And closest to the crater, was a group of trees. The trunks were almost bone-white, and the leaves which covered the few top branches were a pale green. And from the branches grew round fruits which reminded of apples. An oasis in the middle of the Second Plane of Hell.
“The Garden of Eden …!” John muttered to himself. From here, they ventured down the steep hillside, to the valley which had to be crossed in order to get to the hillside with the blue light and the trees. John reached out with his hands as they continued down into the valley. It wasn't particularly wide or deep, but it brought them into a shaded part of the land, where the shadows were deeper and more denser. Twilight fell faster too, it seemed. Prince Angwyn felt the blood freeze in his veins, and judging by the look of their faces, so did everybody else. Only John kept his cool. He was focusing, and the prince suddenly realised that John was building an invisible wall on either side of them.
“Elemental magic?!” the prince gasped. “You – a half demon – would know of the art?!”
“Would you believe me if I told you there's more to me than meets the eye?” John told the prince in ancient Gaelic, throwing him a wink. Prince Angwyn didn't reply. He turned his head and listened, straining the hearing of his pointed ears to the limit. There it was again. A hush, a stillness through the air. And the cold. The severe cold only demons produce just seconds before they go for the kill.
Suddenly, Elijah screamed. The children dived down for cover, startled by Elijah's bellow. From the shadows some fifty metres away materialised the most ugliest creatures he had ever seen. Floating through the air came pulps the size of a public stage coach. Their skin oozed with black blisters and bubbled. The creatures had no head, no distinguishable limbs, only tentacles which grew at random then diminished. In the centre was a big maw filled with razor-sharp fangs, and the maw opened and closed time and again.
“Stay close to one another and don't move” John's voice rung commandingly through the air. The children landed on Jack's shoulders, grabbing hold there, climbing down and holding fast around his waist. Feathers were everywhere and he hardly got to observe the creatures before they were nearly upon the small party. Close enough, the creatures suddenly rebound as they hit the shield. An electric charge went off, sending ripples of blue lightning where the shields were. John spun around and set off a bolt of white lightning into the nearest of the pulps. It shattered, showering them with dark disgusting matter. The gatekeeper struck out again, smothering two in one. Jack grabbed his children and moved forward, bellowing to the others to keep up. John spun again, doing a sliding movement with his right arm. A fine, ghostlike ray of white shot from his palm, arched elegantly sideways and obliterated another three creatures of the dark. A few more metres and they began on the difficult climb upwards. Jack kept his children on a tight leash. They hovered while he sweated and climbed and struggled upwards. Then one of them had the smart idea to start dragging Jack upwards. It eased his climb but he could barely keep up. Falling, he accidentally let go of the bundle of rope which he had reined in. Having more leverage, the children began to soar upwards, giggling to have more space. Oblivious to the limits of the protective shield John had set up, they floated past its point of protection. Seeing this, creatures began to move in on all sides. Instinctively, Israel reared backwards until the cord was strung tight. Jack fell forwards. He felt sharp rocks dig into his flesh, and he raised his head just in time to see one of the black creatures go in for the kill. Israel tried to dodge, but he was being held in place by the cord. A jet of lightning shot past just over his head, ramming one of the hellish natives straight through. It exploded, sending a shower of black gore over Jack. His fingers worked frantically to untie the knot. He watched the end of the rope slip past his fingers, and Israel soared upwards and away from imminent danger. John hesitated. He was aiming for the ones going after Jacob, but he risked hitting Jacob as well. The air above which separated the group from the children was swiftly filling up with demons, and there was no way Jack could pull Jacob down to safety.
“You have to let him go” John said through the eerie cries of blood-mungering demons, “it's the only way I can get a clear shot!”
With heavy heart and much regret, Jack untied the other knot. He looked up and watched Jacob soar upwards, crying for Jack, crying “daddy help!” Jack realised that this could be the most painful moment in his entire life. This could be two offspring which he might actually not ever see again. Their voices cried out to him, panic-stricken as they were being chased by demons they were hardly able to outrun. For the first time ever, Jack had mentally to thank Saieros for his speed and agility which his children so obviously had inherited. The same speed which made Jack a plaything in the hands of Saieros. Jack was wakened from his musings as John fired several carefully aimed jets upwards. The magic seared the nocturnal air, its potency rippling through the layers of evil in it. Again he did it, and again, until the demons realised they were dealing with crossfire. Dissipating, their presence thinned out until they were totally gone. Jack watched the nearly black sky. Where was his children? Two two-year-olds were out there. In the sky all alone. And maybe not even together.
“Oh God! Oh John, what have I done?!” Jack cried, turning restlessly from one angle to the other. He scrutinized the sky over and over, finding it to be empty. “Israel!! Jacob!!” Jack shouted. The familiar, sickening terror was blooming in his chest, but this time worse than in a long time. This was Jack's own fault.

“They're still alive, father. If they were dead, I would know.” John's assertive voice was like balm to Jack's ears. The words rang true. Jack had to trust them to be alive, but it still didn't change the fact that they were gone. He hated this. He oh so hated these moments to the very bottom of his soul. Every single time! One minute they were children. The next they were taken from him against his will. Either because the current situation dictated that they needed to evolve into fully grown demons in order to survive, or because Jack himself was in a state unfit to care for them. Like childbirth. Or being raped. There was never a moment of importance when Jack got to make a decision based on what he wanted.
John took his arm and pressed on. This had been an unforeseen turn of events. Reaching the first tree, he began to feel the power of the Tear of God. It was weakening him for every step he now took towards the crater.
“I can't go any closer!” he shouted to Jack. From the corner of his eye he saw Prince Angwyn's terrified face. The prince was staring at something behind them, something which was advancing fast from the depths of the dark valley they had just put behind them. “They are on the move again!” he stated, shot out with his hands. A wave of fire rippled downwards, illuminating the distance between the small party and the big boulders they had crossed some thirty minutes ago. A pack of maw-monsters could be spotted, perching on the row of boulders. They hardly knew what hit them before the wave of fire devoured them, sending them spinning downwards like giant balls of fire. The burning demons left a trail of fire as they went, and for a second they all saw the army of maws which were massing, silently floating across the rocky surface of the valley and towards them. It dawned on Jack how an entire species of elves could have been wiped out – how it actually was a miracle to find even one of them alive. He glanced at the prince to see his reaction. The elf's withered and wrinkled face was a mask of pure terror. The sight of the hundreds of demons approaching was enough to send any hero to their knees in hopelessness. Jack held his breath, watched John kneel down, placing one knee resolutely in the ground. He opened and closed his fists, obviously about to device some sort of attack. “Mister Scarborough?”
“Aye Captain?!”
“Get to it.” John didn't have to turn his head to know that his first mate instantly commenced to obey orders. Jamie Scarborough was brilliant that way. In his early twenties and fearless on the point of stupidity. Much like Will Turner. He heard Jamie leap off towards the centre of the hill where the impact between the blue stone and the ground had left a huge crater a long time ago. Jamie was carrying a long piece of rope coiled around his waist and shoulder. Jesus Christ had his cross to bear. Jamie Scarborough had the burden of the rope. And John knew just hope heavy it had been on his conscience. Scarborough could always be trusted to carry out his orders. Scarborough was one proper first mate in a million. Reaching out with his hands, John felt the air between themselves and the monsters. In the outskirts of his mind he felt the terror of prince Angwyn, his father's despair concerning Jacob and Israel, and for a moment his mind connected with that of the twins. He sensed them being frightened but very much alive. He felt the air again, and when the maws were well within range, John sent a horizontal bolt of divine lightning towards the attackers. It held such power that the every ground shook beneath their feet, and its force struck down demons over kilometres. It ended in a massive bloodbath, with demon bodies exploding and raining down everywhere, colouring the dusty ground black.
I am the resurrection and the life.
“Jesus! This is not the time nor the place to be calling on me –!” John spoke between gritted teeth. But he stopped himself short. What better place than in the presence of the Holy Spirit? God and his power certainly worked in mysterious ways, not caring for the time and current situations of others. Again, John waved his hands elegantly. The air moved and bent to his command, it was slicing butter. A heavy mana bolt of blue light seared the hot nocturnal air, as John projected it upwards.
“No! My children –! They could be up there!” Jack cried, but John interrupted him and said: “Trust me, they're not! Scarborough needs cover!”
The mention of Scarborough put Jack back on track. He spun around and watched Scarborough leap upwards. Elijah looked hesitant for minute before he began to follow suit. Scarborough had already made it to the top, his figure partly shrouded by the trunks of the pale trees. He made a hug know which he fastened between the two biggest rocks he could find. Elijah scrambled over to the ledge of the crater and peered inside. He was holding his breath, almost expecting God himself to be down there. The plan was for Scarborough to get down there and get the stone. Elijah would assist him. “It's – it's a long shaft! It just goes on – !” He began to shout back to Scarborough. But just as he turned his head to peer back into the cave, some two-headed figure popped up over the ledge. Elijah screamed his heart out, tumbled backwards and fell, rolling down to where Jamie was standing. When he came to his senses, he looked up and just over the edge he could see the heads of two frightened children, and behind their backs, their wings. It were the twins.
Jack's heart leapt of joy as he recognised his children. On impulse he started forwards, but John held him back. The son shot the father a meaningful gaze, and Jack winced inside. He had to use all of his willpower to stay where he was.
“Daddy help! We're over here!”
“Stay where you are! No, get out of there and come to me!” Jack shouted at them. He watched them crawl out of the hiding place with timid, careful moves. The boys were shaking with fear, and Elijah instinctively came forward to help them. He dragged them out of the hole.
“Don't fly! Do not get airborne!” John shouted to the twins while began to lay out crossfire, illuminating the pitch-black sky. A series of black matter began to rain down and cover absolutely everything in black goo as the demons fell to John's accurate blasts, one by one.
“You have to walk on the ground! Come to Daddy! You must not fly!” Jack shouted at the children. He risked a few steps forward, praying to whatever good spirits that was down here that his baby would be all right. “Come to papa, do it quickly now!” he motioned for the children to hurry in his direction.
“Look Daddy! Apples!”
“No! Don't touch them!” Jack shouted with renewed anxiety.

Scarborough threw the rope down into the shaft. He took one long gaze at Elijah, thought about kissing him, but decided there wasn't a moment to lose. He descended into the shaft. Soon, the blue divine light encompassed him, drowning him and absolving his sins.
Though the temptation was great, Israel managed not to pick the apple. He was distracted by the hundreds of maw-monsters which hovered in the air, spinning and floating. Remembering where he was, he glanced at his twin brother. Jacob stopped and returned the stare, and for a moment they knew that they were – in still uncharted territory of their minds – demons. Their likes were floating around up there, attacking the grown-ups. It was a horrifying knowledge for a pair of two year olds, yet as natural and undeniable as the fact that when they looked down on their naked bodies in the bathroom, they could tell they were boys and not girls. But they were also different. And the difference was Jack and the upbringing he had managed to give them in the space of two years. The twins stumbled downhill, remembering the warmth and touch of Jack's naked chest which they had been resting on, as babies. The memory of his sweet milk was fading, but they still remembered being cradled in his arms and being encompassed entirely by his love. No, the demons in the midnight sky were not their kind, Israel and Jacob decided during their mental discussion on their way over to Jack.
Their wings had gone white, but they raced towards him with arms stretched out wide, eager to be reunited with him once more. They seemed fine, like nothing had happened. Afraid of course, with anxiety plastered across their faces, but they were fine. Jack was oblivious to the dangers around. He cared not for the ceaseless attacks from the demons, or the multitude of deadly magical rays which rained like fireworks from John's fingertips and eyes. All that mattered was the moment when he was finally able to crush them in his embrace again, mentally sighing in relief of having them back alive. It stood clear to Jack for a moment, that aye, this way of life was worth it. Despite the terror Saieros induced upon him, the countless rapes and the violence which often accompanied them, this love and unconditional commitment which the offspring offered Jack in return, made it all worth it. The twins hugged him with their tiny arms, squeezing him tightly. It was all there, the familiar gestures, their smells and big, brown eyes brimming with a promise of eternal life. Jack felt whole again. As whole as a pirate can be without his rum.
Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh stayed low. He kept to the ground, clinging to John's leg. John sometimes shifted his footing, spinning to deal with the next incoming wave of demons. This gatekeeper seemed invincible. The demons with their gigantic maws disintegrated in mid-air, and none escaped the hellish fires and the divine lightning. It was during this struggle that he learned that he was but watching the tip of the iceberg regarding John's powers. This was in deed a demon above all demons, and he clearly owed it to the human part in his veins. Not only was it practical to stay low and close to John, but the prince also recognized the need to show his submission. The gatekeeper was true to his promise. He now fought to protect not just the other members of this peculiar team, but also the prince. No sooner had he thought this through, before there appeared a miracle. Emerging from the crater, was not just Scarborough with the stone. Around his neck clung a woman from Prince Angwyn's own race. He did not recognize her as a member of the court, but still, she was an elf and she was very much alive. Looking just as emaciated as he was, she immediately found him and fixed her gaze upon him. She was clearly exhausted, but her eyes remained on him when Scarborough dragged her and the stone down to where Elijah was standing. The unearthing of the blue stone made a change in the demon's attack pattern. They withdrew with snarling, loud-pitched cries. John also stumbled backwards, struggling to keep to his feet now that the stone's powers were no longer muffled by stone and sand. Jack backed away with the twins also, and they all watched as the prince stumbled forward towards the girl. She was naked. She was so old that the clothes on her body had rotted away, and there was nothing or no time to make other clothes. Like the prince, she had always been on the run. She wanted to speak, to verbalize the joy which was so evident on her face, but her throat was left dry and unused. She coughed, her voice rusty and squeaky. Realising she could not greet him properly as a woman should to her sovereign, she cast her gaze downwards. Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh did not care for etiquette at this hour. He gazed into her face and saw the most beautiful woman there was. She was beauty incarnate, for she was of his kind and she was alive! He touched her mind with the careful first touch of a lover, his emotions bearing down upon her with the truth of a lover's first kiss. In the blink of an eye, he read her sorrows, the children who had been early victims, the confusion, the terror and the starvation. All of these things, he recognised in himself. She had fled to the crater for protection. Seeing no other possibility, she had thrown herself into the shaft. She had broken her leg and it had become not only her salvation but also her prison. Her legs were so faded she couldn't stand on her own. And Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh was in no condition to carry her, even though he was eager to try. This frustrated him. He was the prince, the sovereign who ought to have the strength to look after his people. She was as thin as a twig, looking like she weighed nothing at all.
John stood with his back to the group. He gazed outwards into the darkness, stretching out with his senses, covering more ground, doing a thorough search. He searched for the mind of the demon king of the Second plane of Hell. Homing in on the king's location, John also visualised the entire plane. It resembled a coin floating horizontally in a void. The irregularities on the surface were the mountains and the lakes. The plane bore great resemblance to how the world was once perceived. Flat, like a pancake. Sail far enough and one would actually fall off the edge. The easiest way in for John would be to attack from the underside of the plane. The king had built his lair deep into the belly of the mountain, so deep that on some places all that separated the king from the void outside, were a few metres of rock. John knew what had to be done. He made his decision fast.
“Your Highness, My lady! You must stay with Mister Scarborough and his, uhm, colleague. Within the blue light, you will be fine. We shall make our way back to the shore, in two parties. I have to protect the other party.” John turned to Jack and spoke swiftly: “Father, we are going to retreat to the Crimson. I fear we might not be able to bring the stone on board, but you and the children will be safe there. I am going to kill a king.”

The Demon King of the Second plane of Hell knew him. Sensing that billions of his offspring had just evaporated, the Demon King of the Second plane of Hell drew deeper into his lair. He had a bad feeling about this Gatekeeper which so briefly had touched his mind. In a glimpse, the Demon King had seen it all. This was the son of the former Demon King of the Seventh Plane. It had been a mighty Demon king. A king with intelligence, who had become famous throughout Hell for fathering warlords with a human, no less. And this warlord was now coming for him. In his possession was also the fabled Lost Champion, the very reason why the Demon King had lured the elven people into a trap in the first place. Placing that plague upon them had been easy. And by the time they were dying like flies, the Demon King had stepped in, offering himself as their saviour. But the elven king had been no fool. Knowing his son's potential, he had turned the Demon King down. And no one turns down the Demon King of the Second Plane without paying for it.
“The lost Champion was the main character in a future foretold aeons ago. Born amongst the living, of royal lineage and a powerful wielder of the forces of Light and Dark; Elemental magic. A Child Bearer. A vessel into the world of the living. It might just as well have been Paris of Troy” John told Jack as he helped them onto the Crimson Lotus once more. The children were tired and complaining, grumpy and hungry. The Crimson whispered in the back of the Sparrow's head, nattering about being left alone like this, about the children and the state they were in, the whole boredom of it all. And if that stone ever came across her railings, she would turn herself up side down immediately and drown them all, she professed. She was in a right fury, and it was exactly where John and Jack needed her to be.
“Will you shut it, my dear?!” John told her between gritted teeth, “I am taking out a demon king and I need you to be a lioness protecting her cubs, savvy?” John slid his hands across her woodwork, stroking her railings lovingly. “Dear girl …!” he whispered seductively to her, and she returned his musings with a low purr which went through the ship like a faint tremor. She let go of her resentment towards him, forgiving him the way a sated mistress forgives her lover for being late to a date. John stood on deck. He winced as the magic flowed through his body, growing wings from between his shoulder blades. The newly made bone forced its way through his skin, growing rapidly. It always hurt a little. He could have dulled the pain if he only bothered, but he seldom used the wings so he forgot about it every time. In a matter of no time, he had a pair of large wings covered with black feathers. He picked up the linen bag which Jack had prepared. Taking off, he swept by the shore and dropped the bag containing food and clothes for the small party. The prince and the woman clung to one another, and they sat back to back with Elijah and Jamie, keeping an eye out for enemies. They weren't sure what John was up to, other than that he was going to confront the Demon King. And a confrontation meant that probably one of them would come out of it alive, and it had to be – it had to be John! Anything else would be impossible. The Crimson Lotus extended her powers and sent the dingy back to shore. If John – against all odds – failed, then the first mate and his gang would make it to the boat before they took off. The stone would have to be left behind. There was no way she would stand to have that thing on board!
John soared high through the early light. Night was just beginning to give way to dawn. In his wake he left a trail of dying maws, writhing in death throes or exploding, torn apart from the insides. John sent out wave after wave of destruction, taking out as many of them as he could as he made it to the edge of the second plane. Folding his wings closer to his body, he angled downwards, into the thin atmosphere. A few maws followed pursued, and John suddenly remembered the guardians of the Third Plane of Hell. It gave him an idea. He took a large turn, elegantly making a bold and wide turn, just enough to touch the invisible border of the third plane. It alerted the guardians. They set off after the intruders, close enough for John to have a look. They were – of appearance – striking enough. A crude blend of dinosaurs and birds, making a hideous combination which also made them into perfect vultures and aerial fighters. Their large beaks were filled with thousands of razor-sharp teeth. Known for their speed, they had one exceptional weapon. They could swipe a contestant with their solid tails, knocking them from flight. Expert soul-catchers they were, like a school of blood-thirsty sharks in the water after dark, picking up anything or anyone who didn't have both wit and speed to outrun them. John tried to dally. Turning his head, he saw the maws fall prey to the guardians. Other guardians did as he hoped they would, and picked up on his tail. Staying with him, they flew on the dark side of the plane. Stretching out with his mind again, it didn't take long to find the spot. Turning and floating vertically, he directed his powers towards the stone, drilling his powers inwards.
The Demon King of the Second Plane knew the Gatekeeper was near. He could feel him in his mind but not pinpoint the exact direction. It came as a bit of a surprise when the cave started to tremble, and suddenly the rocks beneath him crumbled and fell away. He would have made it. He would have been able to shoot upwards through one of the many passageways and make it in time, had it not been for this force which seemed to suck him into the hole and out into the void. Like a clot too big for the exit, the pulp and the tentacles which was the king, appeared bit by bit, expanding. No sooner had the king realised where he was, before a dozen guardians attacked the king, picking and hacking into his flesh. The king writhed and cried. He was stuck in the narrow hole, and the vultures were ripping his flesh open, ripping off tentacles and whole chunks of his slimy, shapeless body. John watched with glee, flapping with his wings in mid-air, watching the bloody spectacle. The guardians paid him no heed. They knew who this was that the Gatekeeper was not one to be trifled with. A much easier prey was to be found, and if they wanted a piece of the meat, they would have to fend off their brothers to get to it. John waited patiently to the feast had ended. Scores of goo and pulp was all that was left. Bits and pieces dripped across the slick stones. The Gatekeeper made his way inside, reaching out with his mind again. Making his way through the lengthy pitch-black tunnels, he searched for signs of life. Elven life. On each side of the tunnels, there were alcoves, and in each one, elven bones. Sometimes also with the bones of babies. The echoes of their souls screamed at a distance, their final death throes as the demons burst through their bellies stung in his mind. It was an endless parade of utter despair and terror. Finally, John found one. The elf was emaciated, wrinkled and pale. His skin was almost blank from countless decades in the dark. He had recently been brought down here, and his belly was big and bloated. On the inside moved an offspring which was almost ready. Putting his hands on the belly, John focused on finding the life functions of the offspring. Deformed, hideous and evil. It had a tiny head, tentacles for arms and deformed feet. There was no body and the child was virtually without intelligence. A predator which would only make it to the outside, and then it would die because no one had the strength nor the wit to nurture it. John put one hand on the forehead of the poor elf. Putting the man into a deep slumber, he sliced the man's belly open. Doing it quickly, John extracted the ugly demonic child. For a moment it was like meeting himself in the doorway. Hadn't it been for Paris and his good love, John thought to himself, this would be what John would have had become. A hated, undeserving and bloodthirsty creature. A Treasure Child with a nose for, well, treasures.
He tossed the kicking offspring away and put his hand on the wound. Turning, he gritted his teeth and cut the throat of the baby. It squealed. Then the squeal turned into a gurgling noise as it bled to death. Then, the noise died. John left the sleeping elf and moved on. There was somebody else alive down here as well. Luckily, seeing in the dark was a piece of cake to any one with demon blood in their veins. Finding the next one took only time, as John knew just where to go. The elf was in agony. The child was clawing its way through, and John put his hand on the belly just in time. Putting the elf asleep, he focused on the child's heart, stopping it while the baby was still inside the belly. Then, the same procedure. John cut its throat in case. Another elf had died just hours earlier. His soul was still alive. The demons hadn't been able to feast on it. He floated up to John, desperate for shelter. He reported of others whom he had seen being still alive after his own death.
Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh tried not to get his hopes up. The ship had suddenly moved, bringing them about the end of land, down amongst the shadows and to the underside of the second plane which looked like a pancake with lots of topping strewn unevenly on the surface, elongated peaks looking like syrup about to drip off. The smothering heat of the plane's atmosphere was replaced with icy cold of the void that was between the planes, and in it were fearsome, airborne creatures. The prince shuddered from the cold, but he wouldn't go inside. The moment was too great to be spent in ignorance. He needed to see that for the first time in aeons, he was in fact moving away from that hated place. He sat on deck, close to the mast. Between his legs, with her back against him, sat the woman. She too, needed to witness this. They moved and thought as one now. Separated for so long, they dared not wander from each other either physically nor mentally. He shared with her his hopes and longings to find other survivors, to elope and to find a new haven. Instinctively, he gave her all of him, fearing that if not, then she would wither away. Male and female. That was what was needed to reproduce. To bring the species forward. He did not want to think of his promise to The Gatekeeper. But neither could he withhold the information from her. She had known it through him, seen and felt his feelings. She had accepted, because just the way he had seen it, there were no other options but to make the sacrifice. The elven race were on the verge of extintion. She was most likely the only female left alive. He felt her sudden and unexpected hopes for the future. And if he closed his eyes and fought away the terrible memories of monsters lurking everywhere he turned, he could see the shadows of future sons and daughters. And if he tried hard enough, he could almost hear them laugh. Carefree laughs somewhere safe. Somewhere green.
A moment before The Crimson Lotus took flight, the prince had fallen over on deck. He had been thinking about The Gatekeeper, wondering if he would keep the second half of his promise, if he would succeed in taking down the Demon King. Through his eyes, he had seen the demon king, and for a moment – not more than the wink of an eye – had their minds touched. The Demon King's mind was pure terror, so hateful and evil it had seared into the prince's head. The contact had lasted so briefly but it had been enough to give away the prince's position. The Demon King, ravenous in his search for the Lost Champion, had finally seen him. At the final moment of his disgusting existence, the Demon King had finally found what he chose to destroy an entire nation for. Only to stand before his own destruction. And in that moment of contact, Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh had known the truth.
The plague which had swept across the land of early time, the land of the elves and dwarves and goblins, had not been a coincidence. The Demon King of the Second plane had always been amongst the ambitious ones, and the more tales he heard of the Lost Champion, The Vessel of Life, the more certain he had become that his plan would work. Devising the plague was easy. It took hold and swept through the lands mercilessly, destroying everything and everyone. He made the plague unstoppable, countering the elves' magic, and once it overpowered enough people, it became indestructible. Then, he had presented himself to the Elven king of the North – the only remaining king of the lands of the elves – as their saviour. And he told the king that he would heal the people – for a small price. For amongst the elves, there were one man strong enough to bear the child of a demon. The Lost Champion. A Child Bearer.
The king of elves had refused, knowing just who that man was. It was one of his own children. And the king had expelled The Demon king from his court. The Demon King answered his imprudence by opening up the very earth, casting the entire nation into Hell. And that had been the beginning of their terrors. They had fallen into the sea. And the lucky ones were those who had drowned.
In the blink of an eye which had seemed like way too long, the Demon King had, in his final moment, made it known to Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh just how much he already 'loved' him. He had imagined being in possession of the prince, ardently longing for the pleasures of fucking him and possessing him in mind, body and soul. Overtaken by these dark and raw sentiments, the prince felt awfully naked and almost violated, his being shrieking with defiance against the possibility of such an abuse.
The woman had been holding on to him. She held him tightly, though she was weak. She was with him in mind, witnessing the malice of the Demon King, finally understanding how it all fit into place. Why they had fallen from the light. It added only more sorrow to the loss of her people, but she sensed that they had reached a turning point. There were no need for words. Together they remained. Huddled under some blankets, their frail frames muffled in the darkness of the void. The enormous shape of the underside of the plane hung above them, its mass incomprehensible. They watched The Gatekeeper bring them down, one by one. The remains of the elven people. Four men. Put into sleep, their limp bodies rested, emaciated as they were. But their minds instantly connected with the couple sitting on deck. The came the Gatekeeper. He stood before the couple and said: “I will look no further. Now I must decide what to do with the stone.”
The Crimson Lotus turned about. She headed back for the upper side of the plane, back into the heat, back to the lake where it all had started and now would end.
The Crimson was angrier than ever. There was no way she would carry that stone on board, and it did not matter how much John cajoled and soothed her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Like a whore off duty, she crossed her legs and pouted. “Come now, my love” he asked her once more, stroking the wood lovingly. “What do you say? It's just a quick ride. I'll make it worth your while. Tell me your price. Would you like some priests to play with? Or some unhappy sailor? I can arrange that. You want the Pope? I'll give you the Pope.” She gave no reply, as the suggestion actually had something to it. But, thinking the better of it, she declined. “Sweetheart, please, please, please!” John begged, sounding like a little boy begging his mother for a lollipop. “I love you, you're my darling baby, remember? The finest of them all! There's no other ship that can compare with you, you and I are one!” John told her, flailing with his arms.
Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere, John Sparrow! She told him grudgingly, but he sensed that she had given in. Then she told him what she wanted in return for her efforts. It made John smile wickedly. “Your wish is my command, as soon as we are alone ..!”
They stuffed the stone inside a chest. At least she wouldn't have to see the blue, shiny thing. But she regretted her deal with Sparrow the instant it came within range, making her nauseous and weak. It felt as if being awake during one's own surgery, knowing that the doctors actually placed a cancerous lump inside of you instead of removing it. She couldn't wait to get out of there, and took off before they had managed to secure the dinghy properly. The ascent was difficult and cumbersome, as if every force of evil in Hell suddenly worked against her. She felt like an old and stale hag, worn to the point of no repair, lifeless and close to dead. Her walls started to shift, and from years of hiding reappeared the skeletons of men she had once devoured. Their bones fell rattling to the floor. Knowing that her captain was feeling equally bad, she put her faith in the first mate to guide them according to John's orders. She felt like she was dying. Out of breath and waning fast. The powers of the blue death was eating her up fast. Coming up through an unstable portal and into the realm of the living, she felt shaky and queasy. She could feel herself fall apart, feel the nails grinding their way out of their places. As soon as she was side by side with The White Swann, she felt relief. Scarborough immediately set off to load the chest containing the blue death over to the white ship.
The children had been sleeping an uneasy sleep. Jack had stayed awake with a thousand different thoughts sailing around in his head. The twins had slept for a few minutes, then stirred and woken up again, confused and undone. Only Jack's attentive face and reassuring words had been enough. He had been watching his children, watching their white wings and the way they winced in their sleep. Like really bad dreams. Jack thought of Will, something he often did lately, when things got bad. Will had everything. He considered himself in Paradise, with his wife Elisabeth. He was content. And Jack was content to know this. He had vowed never to bother Will with his own unhappiness, never to brood in front of him concerning his loneliness and the pain Saieros kept bringing him. Will Turner had been through so much. He deserved to live the rest of his life in peace. Jack had been brooding about Will whilst sensing that the Crimson Lotus was holding her breath. He could almost see the walls tense up in pain, and Jack wondered if being close to the Tear of God this way was doing harm to the baby in his belly. She kept veering from side to side, moving around anything which wasn't strapped in. Something was very, very wrong with her. Then a moan rippled through her hulls, and the way the fresh air suddenly seeped in, Jack guessed they were back amongst the living.

Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh pushed himself up the steps from the cargo hold and to the freedom of the deck. The skies were blue, the sun radiant, shining down on him with vitality and force. He filled his lungs with fresh, sea air and took in the sight of the gleaming white coastline of Turkey. The sea gulls soared above his head, and he smelled on the air pine, olives and goats. For the first time in aeons, his body seemed to wake up, his powers returned and he felt the magic of the elements coarse through his body. Once, his face and name had been known across the land. A land before the seas had divided it. But the faces staring back at him at the other ship which lay anchored up, did not know him. They stared at him with disgust, not knowing what he had once looked like, not understanding what he had just escaped from. The prince looked away. There was no point in being offended over something like this. Tens of thousands of years separated him from these creatures. Time itself had changed since then.

Jack and the children moved back into the Captain's cabin of The White Swann. The twins had grown up on this ship. It was their home, and now they were glad to be back in their own beds. As the night settled that day of the return of the elves, Prince Angwyn Réalta Thuaidh ahd trouble sleeping. The dark worried him, for he had learned that it brought with it nothing but demons and horrors. His subordinates felt the same way. The four men and the one woman now had food in abundance, clothes and comfortable beds. But their heads were still back at the Second Plane of Hell. Not getting any sleep didn't worry them. They were all still in shock. Help had come so swiftly and so abruptly, they had trouble realising they had escaped. This was not some dream – this was reality. They didn't speak, only looked at each other, either resting or eating. Staying together was what was most important. They were on board a demon ship. They had freedom, yet they were slaves to a demon. And they all knew just what a prize the prince had paid for it. He communicated with them mentally, reassuring them that all would be fine. They had each other. They had their powers back. They had life. He was making sure the elven race continued to exist. The sacrifice of all those who had sought to make sure he lived, had not died in vain. A shudder of delight suddenly rippled through the hulls of the ship. The prince was momentarily distraught in his communications. Then came a satisfied, low moan which echoed from front to end of the Crimson.
John Sparrow coated his fingers with the pre-come of his erection and smeared it into a crack of the wall next to the bed of the captain's cabin. He arched his head backwards, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled through his nostrils, taking in the scent of the oils and the burning incense, clearing his mind of anything but his ship. She shivered beneath him, and he heard her wood moan deeply. The fire in the fireplace was burning fiercely. Sweat poured from his temples, dampening his bandanna, running in streams down his ribs. He continued to stroke his erection, pausing only to grind his aching cock against her wood. Everywhere, like a dog marking its territory. It was to her liking. She loved being dominated by him. He got out of the bed, continued to stroke, before he strode over to one wall by the windows. He clung to it and kissed it fiercely, kissing and tasting the cedar wood over and over. He rested his forehead against the wall, whispering nothings and ghosting the surface with seductive breaths. Then he whispered: “I told you I would make it up to you, didn't I sweetheart?!” She shuddered beneath his touch again, rocking slightly on the otherwise smooth and silent surface of the Aegean Sea. He could feel himself nearing an orgasm. He plastered his torso against the wall, grinding his hips against her before continuing. He turned around and gave to her as much fleshy touch as possible. His breath got laboured. Spinning on his heels, he leaned against the wall with one hand, whilst steadily stroking until the orgasm came. It came quickly and it came hard. He showered her wall with golden droplets. As soon as they made contact with the wood, they coagulated and became real stains of gold. She, the mistress, opened the pores in her wood and sucked it all in.
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Legends of the Treasure Child: Sparrow's Nest