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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
“It's obvious, savvy? Julius Caesar. He lived during that time, did he not?” Captain Jack Sparrow rubbed his face in his palms, sighing at the endless noise from the children. Israel and Jacob were on their knees and deeply focused. John had grudgingly given up his desk drawer along with its content in order to have a moment's peace with Jack. The Crimson Lotus was vibrant with motherly love. He could feel it in the wood. She almost felt pregnant whenever Jack's toddlers set foot on her. Ignoring her motherly swooning, John focused again. He glanced with heavy heart at the two twins who were having a field day exploring the drawer which held everything from gold coins to medallions and trinkets which John now realised he had forgotten he had. There was definitely going to be a mess.
“It could be anyone of them. Alexander the Great” John replied thoughtfully.
“What if it by some mere coincidence strayed from the hands of our unknown emperor and into – let's say – the hands of someone like Genghis Khan?”
“I doubt it. The prophet was crystal clear on that. It's one of the Roman emperors.” John looked from Jack and to the twins as Jacob uttered a loud joyful shout. He'd come across a lady's stiletto. Sleek and elegant, easily concealed. The perfect weapon of a lady out on a night in the town. The owner had been a dangerous woman. A woman without conscience. He watched Jack stretch across from where he was sitting. Holding his breath he carefully plucked the blade out of the hands of the two-year-old.
“These emperors” Jack continued, “they were not all that great, right? Some were less important, someone hardly ruled, others were simply puppets. I'm thinking … power struggles, perhaps priests versus royalty. Secret agents and a convenient death of the ruling emperor. And presto – the stone is gone. Vanished under their noses.”
“They wouldn't want to show off the Tear of God. It would have been – and still is – a powerful sign of God's existence. A Roman emperor would have concealed it and continued to persecute the Christians.”
“I guess that rules out emperor Constantine?”
“Not necessarily. Though he was a devout Christian, he may have taken the stone with him in his grave. Without telling his wife. The empress had a talent for recording everything they did while they ruled. Somehow I don't think he would have told her if he had it. He wouldn't risk anyone knowing about it and plundering his grave ..! Besides, if it were in deed Constantine, then he would have taken precautions.”
“Like what?”
“Security. Ever since his untimely death which was in fact made very 'timely' by his counsel, the grave has been watched over by The Knights Templar.”
“But – but there haven't been a knight for – a long time?”
John could see the adventurous flames come alive in Jack's eyes. His bearded face, the nut-shaped eyes and brown orbs framed by that unruly but now combed hair, still held tell-tale signs of Jack's days as a pirate lord. Whenever there was a venue for a possible impossible mission which would lead to certain fortune and fame and untold danger, Jack was all ears.
“The Knights Templar are very much alive. Both by the holy ones and their predecessors.”
“The holy ones?”
“Knights touched by God at some point in time. Knights who survived the original crusades. The true followers of God.”
“Sounds like a bunch of fanatics.”
“Actually, it's the predecessors and those who didn't survive said crusades, who are the fanatics. Fanatics aren't true followers of God. They always only follow their own voice in their minds which they think is the voice of God.”
Up till now, Gilbert Monterey had been able to follow the discussion. The initial reaction when Jack and the children had walked in, had been fear. After waking up beside the fireplace, covered in a blanket, Gilbert Monterey had sought refuge inside the alcove which was John's bed. Still naked and bloody, he had covered himself up as best as he could. John's eyes had been glued to his body the entire time. Those eyes glowing devilishly in the half dark. Gilbert had been breathing hard. Anticipating another onslaught. Instead, he fetched two glasses of fresh water. Then, that other man with the cherubs had come to pay him a visit. Gilbert had been on the verge of screaming out his panic, pleading for help. But the resemblance between the men were striking. The original and the copy. The devil and the devil's father. And the father looked odd, his belly bloated. And he held two cherubs captive. Or were they really cherubs? No they were children. Then the conversation between the men had begun, and Gilbert had found it to be just his cup of tea. Almost forgetting his impossible situation, he listened with fascination to these two – the devil himself and the father – speaking of emperors and taking the word of God in their mouths. All without divine lightning striking them down. Still weary, sore and confused about yesterday, Gilbert couldn't help but to feel that he had been shanghaied into something big, deep and complicated.
“I – I”he suddenly began. The two Sparrows turned their heads to glare at him. “I remember dreaming …. about tears falling from the sky. I was in – pain. And there was this deep sorrow. And a woman – cried.” Gilbert talked, and looked from the elder Sparrow to the other. The tall one, the demon, grew silent and sombre. A shadow – darker and deeper than before – seemed to fall over the entire cabin, making his clothing blacker than its average black. He folded his arms above his chest, and looked at Gilbert like he was about to give him an earful. Instead, the demon seemed to think the better of it, and replied: “It wasn't a dream. It was real. If you – can find it in your heart – to think closely, you might even remember me being there. Though – I might add – my face looked slightly different.”
Gilbert didn't reply at first. Then his gaze started to wander just as he was wandering inside his memory in his mind. Then enlightenment. “You! You were the demon with the red eyes – the red veil – you – we met in the desert! We – oh God – we made – had … oh Christ, in the desert.” Realisation sat in and Gilbert buried his face in his palms in pure shame.
“You what?!” Jack wanted to know with glee.
“Two thousand years ago, Gilbert and I – uh – that is to say – in our past lives – met in the desert. And – uh – well, you know, boy meets boy.”
“Too much detail.”
“Thought so. Won't happen again.”
“Speaking of details, you do know there are at least two stones in Egypt?” Jack continued. He tried to shake it off but couldn't. He'd never thought much about his son's previous existence, but now it struck him that Jack and that prince weren't the only fathers. What had the others been like? Better? Worse?
“If you say so. I doubt we can sail The White Swann right up to the door step of the pyramids, but we'll give it a go. We are after all Sparrows.”
Jack didn't reply. Lost in thought for a moment, he seemed oblivious to John's musings concerning a rendezvous with dead Pharaohs. Something which should have intrigued the adventurous side of Jack the pirate.
“Where … is Saieros, these days?”
“Don't concern yourself with that, father. Worry about it when he's actually standing in front of you.”
Gilbert held his tongue, sensing a sudden change in the tone of voice of the demon. A compassionate tone, filled with warmth and tenderness. Something utterly so very human. The memories of a past life in a hot land with sand, thorny bushes and olive trees, fluttered before his retina. The influx of information was on the verge of making him mad, and he wondered about who he had been. The signs identifying him as the one man he not possibly could have been, were strong and so many. It was impossible. It just could not be! It had to have been someone else, someone who, perhaps had suffered a similar fate. Many people were crucified at that time, right? But that meant that he had been a sinner in his previous life. Like the ghost in his childhood bedroom? Perhaps that was him? The Roman centurion. Looking up from beneath his palms, he met the stare of the demon. Those yellow eyes, whom he now remembered all too well, drilled inside of him. Gilbert all of the sudden felt nausea flooding his gut. He felt bloated, as if there weren't enough room in his belly. There was something pressing from the inside.
“I ask again” Jack continued, ignoring the evasive manoeuvre from his son, “do you know what he's about these days? How come he haven't been hammering down on me? Especially now, that I bear someone else's child?”
John closed his eyes tightly, his lips pressing together into a thin line. It was an expression Jack had seen a hundred times before. John was admitting defeat. Beneath him, Israel sat on his feet and wrapped half a dozen prayer beads around John's left leg.
“The prince – his father – knows more of your situation that you know. And – !”
“ – he knows? How can he know?! John, have you told him?! About Will?!” Jack felt a sudden unseen fist clam up around his heart. Will, oh no, not Will!
“No! I haven't –!”
“ – then how can he know?!”
“ – if you would just let me finish …?!” John raised his voice a millimetre and then sighed. “The prince is a ghost, and no one rules the ghosts –!”
“ – except you! You're the Gatekeeper –!”
“ – as a dead man, the prince has never been to Hell. He has never set foot inside the gates, therefore I cannot be his master –!”
“ – but you're his – you're a demon warlord and above him in rank –?!”
“ – if you stayed inside this cabin, he wouldn't have been able to know. No ghost enters without the Crimson's permission. But you chose to stay at The Swann, therefore –!”
“ – he comes and goes as he sees fit! And now, because of that, because of my folly, Will Turner's in jeopardy.”
“ – I” John began, flailing with his arms. He left them hanging down his sides in another tell tale sign of defeat. “Father, please, for God's sake, listen! I know the two of you don't get along –!”
“ – don't get along? He thinks I deserve to be getting what I do from Saieros because I'm evidently not Child Bearer material. I'm not bloody blue blooded enough!”
“Dad? Listen. Shut up and listen! Regardless of what he thinks, and regardless of what you should have been and what I ought to have been doing – I have chosen to stand by your side. You – and only you – are my father. And the prince has realised that his time with me, is over. He has stepped back, and he has his reasons for detaining Saieros and they are connected to you and your – situation” John nodded towards Jack's belly. “He has chosen to side with you because he has seen that I have chosen you, savvy?! Please remember, that although he enjoyed a – marriage – of sorts to the Demon King – it ended in ruin. It all ended in ruin, so trust me, he knows what it's like to be unhappy.”
“Does he know about the stones?”
“The Tears of God? Yes. He doesn't like it, because he knows they can kill his sons and that you intend to use it as a weapon against Saieros.” John replied. The reply was accompanied by the noise of twenty silver bullets which fell to the floor simultaneously. Jacob giggled, put his hand into the pile and began to shuffle them in every direction. Israel had found himself a small crystal bottle with some liquid content which was blank. The bottle was cut in diamond shapes. He removed the cork, and smelled the content. It smelled somewhat minty. Wondering if it would taste good, he glanced at John, then over to John's glass of water. John wasn't looking. He was speaking vigorously to Israel's dad. Before thinking about it twice, Israel poured the liquid into John's drink, and waited. A small purse of black velvet then caught his interest and his experiment was forgotten.
“Aye. He's got a point, you know” Jack said after a pause. “We're hunting down the very objects which could lead to your death. I'm so busy looking for a way to save my unborn child that I'm forgetting that it could actually lead to the death of a child I already have. You. The strongest and biggest and meanest of them all. My champion.” He watched John sigh, then swing his arm out to catch his glass of water. The glass was half empty. John downed it all in one go. He immediately began to choke and cough. Leaving the empty glass on the table with shaky hands, he continued to cough until he was coughing smoke. It lasted for a brief number of seconds, but John had to brace himself and hold on to the edge of the table until the dizziness passed. Gazing down, he found the empty bottle on the floor.
“Which one of you –!”
“ – it wasn't me!!” the twins promptly replied.
“ – poured Holy Water in my glass?”
“Wasn't me. Wasn't me!”
“Try again in ten years time. All that matters for the moment are shiny things and adventure” Jack laughed.
“Pirate's blood.”
“Indeed” Jack replied and gazed proudly at his children.

Once Jack and the children had left the ship, John returned to his imminent problem in the cabin. Just as he turned on his heel to go back to the captain's cabin, he saw Gilbert stand in the doorway, peering outside. Gilbert opened the door further. He had wrapped John's blanket around his waist. His eyes wide open, he now took in what he hadn't been able to see in the dark during the previous night when he was brought on board. It took only moments to see the unholy crew and what they had been. They all paused to gaze at the newcomer. The hollow sockets in their skulls, the half rotten flesh on their bodies and the stench of decay attacked Gilbert's nostrils. He put one foot in front of the other until he was standing in their midst. His lips moved, but no sound came. He was shocked by what he saw, awed and appalled.
“Dear God!” Gilbert finally stuttered, “Dear God come their assistance! Free them from this – this dreadful existence!” The Brit turned towards John, who was coming towards him. John seized Gilbert's arm and pulled him close, out of reach. Gilbert shuddered as he realised that the undead had been reaching for him, not looking pleased. Turning his head, he came face to face with John. The demon's lips were so close to his own that they almost touched.
“You cannot save them. They do not want to be saved. They are my whores and they like it.”
“I don't believe you! These are men of God! No priest in his right mind would become – this – for you, a demon!”
“Victoria veritatis est caritas. Had they been true followers of God, then He would have stopped me from harming them. They're all sinners. They've committed crimes against men, women and children, all in the name of your precious God!”
“God does not remit sins but to the baptised. Their souls belong with God!”
“Nah. They're all going to Hell.”
Gilbert wanted to break free. He attempted to wring free his right wrist, but John tightened his grip and drew the half naked man closer to his body. John drew a deep breath through his nose, smelling the skin and the breath of Gilbert Monterey.
“You're not entirely British, are you?!”
“You're straying from the subject!” Gilbert retorted, struggling weakly in John's strong arms. “Release them to the mercy of God!”
“Can you not hear what I say? God would only reject them and cast them down to Hell. To me.”
“I demand that you let these souls go! God will judge them, not you!”
“What's that in your blood?” John took another deep breath through his nostrils. “Aye, I smelled it last night and couldn't quite place it!”
“Stop toying with me! Let them go, for the love of God!”
“Your mother and her parents travelled to ancient Greece. When they returned to England, she's with child. Let me guess. Sparta? The arch enemy of my ancestors ..! God sure enjoys a good joke.” Pressing the man close to him, John put one hand around his neck and pressed his lips onto Gilbert's. The man struggled at first, then gave in. Those demonic lips tasted of pure heaven, making Gilbert's mind tingle with unfamiliar desire.
“I will not be your whore ..!” Gilbert retorted defiantly, breaking the kiss.
“And I do not want you as my whore. You're the father of my future children.
“You're not making sense! In the name of God, I demand that you set them free!”
John hesitated with his reply. He pressed his hips against Gilbert's pelvic area, deliberately making the priest in training aware of the bulge inside his trousers. “Oh no! Not again …!”
“Make love to me. Kiss me and tell me you're mine, that you will sail on the seven seas with me for all time, and I'll do as you say.” John flashed a grin, revealing white fangs and perfect, white teeth.
“I will do no such thing! You will put me ashore and go back to the dark abyss you once came from!” Gilbert snarled at John and pushed him off, regretting the action at the same moment. Stepping forward, he seized John by his waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. Crushing his lips upon those of the demon, Gilbert knew this meant he had betrayed God. But why not? A voice kept telling him in the back of his head? Why not live a little? It was his destiny to be created only to die for someone else's sins, over and over. He bore the weight of Mankind on his shoulders. Why not be selfish, for once? Just for one lifetime? “No!” Gilbert broke the kiss and pushed John from him. “No, I – I – I cannot! I will not give in to temptation! You're a man – and a demon! It's you – you're putting this voice in my head!” Gilbert pointed at John, his voice filled with accusation, “you're doing this to make me abandon my God!”
“You already have abandoned your God, the Holy Father. But Fate cannot be redirected that easily and you will continue to live and die for the sins of Mankind. And you will spend eternity – life after life – attempting to reconcile with that prick up there who made you. And as long as you two cannot be reconciled, there's no saving Humanity. Thus, 'Ragnarokk' as the Vikings say, will fall upon Man. The Inevitable End.”
Silence. Gilbert only stared contemptuously, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his cheekbones set.
“You're a demon. I will not trust a single word you say. I rely upon God to guide each step I take –! I am his creature, his servant –!” Gilbert gasped and drew backwards as John suddenly drew his cutlass. Swinging round, he beheaded the nearest undead. Then the second and the third fell. Gilbert watched in terror as many of them dropped to their knees, embracing their fates instead of running away. When the half demon had finished, the entire deck had been cleared. John turned his head to the master deck, where Jamie Scarborough and his lover stood by the rudder, silently witnessing the argument. John whipped around, coming face to face with Gilbert again. Now he was looking angry.
“Shall I send their souls to your precious God as well? My irreplaceable first mate and his friend? From now on I wouldn't turn my back on Mister Jamie Scarborough if I were you, Gilbert Monterey, because he's quite of a jealous nature. You cannot strut your stuff on his ship and make demands without getting a serious kick to your backside. Aye, I'll put you ashore, but not until I've settled some affairs with the late Emperor Constantine. And since I'm all out of crew members because of you, you'll simply have to fill in as the replacement!” John snarled and spun on his heel. His cup was brimming with restrained anger. Hoping this was the end of the argument, he aimed for the captain's cabin.
“I will do nothing of the sort!” Gilbert shouted angrily, in pure spite. “These – priests deserve a proper burial with all –!” the proper rites, he was going to say, but the demon spun back around on his heel, his irises sporting an angry red. Gilbert was seized by his right arm and neck and dragged forward with such a force he almost lost balance. Stumbling and managing to keep his footing, he was forced inside the cabin door and thrown forward. He heard the door shut and the key turn behind him. Spinning to see the demon captain locking the door, Gilbert made his way to the back of the cabin, to the windows with the stained glass. The glass figures had changed again, but there was no time to make out the details. Forcing the locks open, he almost managed to open one of the windows, before he was seized by the hair and dragged back into the room. Twisting round to the left, he managed to successfully land a punch in John's gut, connecting with John's ribs. The demon reached for something in the ceiling, and unfastened a chain with a collar and a pair of shackles attached to it. Gilbert realised the demon was going to restrain him, and he began to fight vigorously to get free. He clawed and punched, but the demon seemed oblivious to pain.
“May God – in His iniquity – one day fall from the Heavens – so that I may personally kick his scrawny behind ..!” John muttered between gritted teeth. “Finally – I get to be with you again – only to find you locked inside the body of some deranged, half delusional Christian priest!” John snarled and locked down the collar on Gilbert's neck. The Brit was now in shackles, with a collar around his neck. “I am the bloody resurrection and the life, my gizzards! He who believes in me, though he dies, yes shall he bloody well live! And everyone who lives and believes in me, shall for the bleeding love of God never die!” John snarled out the last word and tore the sheet away from Gilbert's waist. Tugging at the chain which rested on a nail on the wall, John forced Gilbert to stand on his feet, stringing the chain tight so it left Gilbert no leverage.
“You – you said you wouldn't bind me!”
“Aye, I did! I wouldn't bind you to me, to enslave your mind, and make you one of them! But as long as you have to remain on my ship, you will adhere to my commands as one of the crew! I will not tolerate disobedience, not even from you!” John replied. His breathing was heavy, and he gripped Gilbert's left ass cheek and gave it a good squeeze. “A bloody half Spartan. That's all I needed …!” John breathed into Gilbert's right ear. The way those curls tickled his lips and the scent of Gilbert's skin brought the bulge back into his pants. He put his hands on the side of Gilbert's torso, on his ribcage. Sliding his hands across that skin, feeling how the man's body was built was addictive. He dropped the touch down low, diving into the pubic hairs to find a limp manhood just waiting to be handled. John placed a hungry kiss on Gilbert's neck. He felt the man shudder beneath his lips. Finally, John was being rewarded for his efforts. He continued to ghost his lips across the tanned skin, from the man's neck to his right shoulder, then to his left. John's erection was screaming for release from its confines. John rid himself of his pants and boots quickly. Dropping his waistcoat and his shirt, he stood behind Gilbert, entirely naked. “The things I do for you ...” John whispered into Gilbert's ear, before he removed his black and silver bandanna. His long, dark brown hair fell across his shoulders, and as he swung around to come face to face with Gilbert, the priest in training was shivering. The beads and the trinkets in the demon's hair sparkled in the vivid light from the fireplace, and those eyes – which no longer were angry red – sparkled like gold in the light. There was no denying it. Gilbert realised it now. In a previous life, he had been staring into this captivating face, and he had loved it. It was as if he could see the very soul of the demon dance behind that shimmering gold in his eyes. As soul met soul through the windows of the eyes, there was no doubt. Gilbert remembered vividly the desert, the golden sand, the wind and the eyes of the demon.

Jack drew himself a map. It was a rough outline of the eighteenth century world as he knew it. There was Britain, Scotland. The Scandinavian countries and Europe. The uncharted territories of America. And the hub of the uncivilized world: Tortuga and the surrounding isles. Then there were Singapore, China and somewhere off to the right, the uncharted land of Australia. The Mediterranean, with Greece, Jerusalem and Egypt. Skimming the newly discovered pages in the book, he plotted in the most probable whereabouts of the remaining blue stones. All thirty-one of them. Sitting there, he felt the child move inside his belly. Instinctively, as to greet it, he put his hand on his swollen belly. He shut his eyes, and in his mind, he was with Will again, feeling the man's breath on his face, feeling his manhood sliding in and out of Jack's entrance. The eyes and the narrow chin, his face looking slightly puzzled. Will had taken a big leap of faith with Jack. Jack had been sitting on top, taking charge of the situation, coaxing Will's body as best as he could. And Will had given. He had been something human, and there hadn't been a single streak of malice. Nothing evil. And it had been the best shag in history.
There was a short rap on the door, and John entered shortly. Gilbert Monterey was with him.
“You're going to be a grandfather” John told Jack, and took his hat off.
“Splendid. Just what the world needs. More Sparrow rascals. When are you off to find the next stone?”
“As soon as Mister Monterey has had something to eat.”
“You need to stop putting things off, you know.” Jack told his son, eyeing Gilbert who looked guilty.
“I've never been good with words” John replied, glancing at Gilbert.
“Aye, I can see that. But waiting for two thousand years to find the right words is just ridiculous, son.”
“I couldn't bloody well declare my feelings whilst he was hanging on the cross now, could I?”
“My son, it's all about seizing the opportune moment, savvy?” Jack raised his eyebrows in a jeer.
“He made me kill off all of my crew members” John sulked. He watched as Gilbert indulged himself with some leftovers. The children had eaten poorly, been grumpy and put early to bed.
“Mister Scarborough and his – friend?”
“Now that's where I drew the line.”
“Excellent. Hard first mates are good to find. I mean – good first mates are hard to find...!” Jack shook his head, trying to clear his head of the thought of Will Turner and their tumble in the hay. “So if the stone is not in Hagia Sofia, then where?”
“It's somewhere in Constantinople. I'm sure of it.”
“There's another one, in Scandinavia. And one in Greece.”
“Let me guess: Sparta?” John sighed. He glanced upwards to the ceiling, looking slightly annoyed. “Having fun, are we?” he muttered to the ceiling.
“I'm obviously missing some point here”Jack said and glanced upwards as well.
“Sparta?” John replied. “The prince's arch enemy was a Spartan king. He was sacrificed to the Demon king by the Spartans. Gilbert's half Spartan, and that means that my children will have Spartan blood in their veins. There's a Tear of God in Sparta! And Sparta is the home of about half of the demon population on Earth because there's a Hell-hole there! God is having a real laugh with the Sparrows, I assure you!”
“And you're his favourite jester, right?”
“You think?!” John sulked and crossed his arms above his chest. “Now, the deal is that Gilbert's going to stay as the nanny, while you and I are off looking for this stone.”
“Aye, agreed!” Jack jumped off from his chair and clasped his hands together like a child about to receive a present. He quickly assembled his effects, which were slightly upgraded from his days as a pirate lord when he chased the seven seas together with William Turner looking for damsels in distress. On his way out the door he instructed the cook to get Gilbert Monterey whatever he desired, before he went across the railing and into the nearest dinghy. It was done faster than a sailor was able to spell s-w-a-b-b-i-n-g. John wasn't that fast. He was caught up in love, gazing into Gilbert's eyes, wondering how to say au revoir. Gilbert resolved it for him, and crushed his lips like a tidal wave upon John's. Catching him in his arms, John squeezed him forcefully, feeling the man's warmth emanating through his clothing. Quite automatically, his hands began to fumble with the hem of Gilbert's trousers. Gilbert began to voice his complaints, telling John he had to be off, but the half demon could not help himself. By the time Jack realised that John was delaying and decided to return to the cabin to find his son, John had buried himself deep into Gilbert's back door entrance, and was well on his way to an orgasm.
“Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly. The night moves fast.”
“I'm coming!” John replied between gritted teeth, thrusting with all of his might. “I'm – oh so – coming – in a minute!”
“More information than strictly needed, thank you very much” Jack said and turned on his heel.
One minute later, John found himself sitting in the dinghy with his father. He took the oars from Jack and began to row with ceaseless strength.
“I can row, you know.”
“In your condition? Forget it” John replied. He made the boat fly across the waves.
“Doesn't it turn to gold, then?”
“What? With Gilbert? No. He's the chosen one.” John replied, referring to how John's sperm usually turned to solid gold when it left his body and made contact with a surface which wasn't his skin. He had killed many a priest that way, by shooting his sperm inside their rectums and watch them slowly bleed to death. They entered a desolate side of the harbour area and went ashore.
“I am confident that the body who is buried in the tomb of the emperor isn't the emperor. Now, there are a number of burial sites in Constantinople, graves used back to medieval days and early Christianity. And the Christians used the tombs of the non-believers simply because it was practical. The Knights Templar adopted this idea” John said. They moved fast through the streets. Whilst John kept gazing downwards, stretching out with demon senses, Jack gazed upwards, nervously expecting to see a pale shape sailing through the air. Saieros. John stopped at the gates of a small mosque. It was sort of crammed in between other buildings and therefore anonymous. He walked inside and Jack followed suit. Glad to be indoors, Jack sighed relieved. One of John's many abilities were to see the prints of human hands. He saw the seams behind the white-painted plaster which was put on the walls to conceal hidden doors. Touching it, the bricks crumbled, revealing a gaping black hole.
“We're going to need a torch” Jack said, squinting into the dark. The rancid smell of decay poured out through the blackness, and it smelled really, really old. John was back after a bit with a lit torch, and handed it to Jack. John went in first. As a demon, he did not need a torch to see in the dark. The black hole led them through a narrow corridor which held alcoves on both sides. The ancient skulls leered towards Jack as they made their way down, mocking him for what he had become. In the good old days, Jack thought to himself, he would have been the first pirate inside, leading the expedition. But since then, much had changed, and once again, a child in his belly had made his decision for him. Bound to come last in every way. That was Jack's fate. He had no idea of how long they trudged, soon turning right then left, soon skidding down a slope and becoming drenched in some indefinable matter. Swords were drawn from their sheaths, and the noise of metal scraping against metal woke Jack from his musings. In response, he drew his cutlass. He felt the blood in his veins start pumping, kick starting the adrenaline rush. What could there be down here, that walked on two legs and wielded swords? Peering over John's high shoulders, Jack caught glimpse of a weak blue light up ahead. It illuminated the corridor around a bend, but now, dark shapes filled the entrance. Human shapes with swords. They came towards John with their blades raised for a kill. Once they came within range of Jack's light, he saw who they were. Templar Knights, their faces shrunken and shrivelled like old goat skin. Their beards looked like rotten wool, and their eyeballs swivelled around in sockets which seemed too big. As the first blade came descending on John's head, John reached out and grabbed the blade's owner by the wrist. He forced the arm against the wall and knocked the blade from the warrior's hand. He caught it in mid-air and punched the knight in the face. Bone cracked and blood poured out from where the jaw once had been. The body fell limp to the floor. Another blade descended rapidly, and Jack lunged forward and stopped it from cutting into John's right shoulder. The metallic noise was ear-deafening, and Jack adjusted his balance to place a strong kick with his left foot straight in his opponent's gut. The old knight fell backwards and didn't get up. He was fighting for air and the blade fell out of his hand. John pushed Jack to the side so Jack collided with the right hand side of the wall. John ducked to the left, leaving the space between them open. A blade cut through the air, where Jack had just been standing, and John thrust out with the sword, severing the hand holding the blade from its owner. The ancient man made a gurgling noise and stumbled backwards. John fought down another opponent, leaving three bodies in a heap. Jack followed suit, stepping across the dead bodies and further into the corridor which was bathed in blue light. Up ahead, some ten twenty metres, the light was so intense that Jack could not discern the surroundings. John suddenly wavered and lost his footing. The light was beginning to affect him. He fought down his opponent. The other two knights backed away, then waited to see if John followed. Almost sensing that he was weakened, they looked at each other disappeared for a moment. Then they returned with a bow an arrow.
“Jack, run!” John shouted. He had just gotten on his feet. He turned his head to look at Jack, and tensed up as the arrows struck him in his back. Jack's chest clamped up. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. His feet remained as frozen, watching his normally indestructible son become wounded. John fell to his knees, moaning loudly from pain. The knights had reloaded and now aimed for Jack. Something big and pale suddenly rushed past Jack. In a matter of a heartbeat there was a light scuffle and the Knights Templar lay dead on the floor. Jack stumbled backwards, out of breath and filled with terror as he saw the familiar yet hated shape of his enslaver. Saieros. As the blue light bathed his pale white shape, the skin began to smoke. The sizzling noise of flesh burning was a tell-tale sign that this was no going to end well for Saieros unless his moved quickly. He gasped for air, grabbed John by the arm and dragged him away from the light. Saieros was huge, and he had to bend his back ninety degrees forward in order to move. As he came closer, Jack backed away, ready to drive the tip of his blade into the demon. John inhaled sharply, coming around to his senses again. He coughed and spat blood. Saieros let go off his baby brother and focused on Jack, then on Jack's belly. For Jack, it was his worst nightmare come true. He could almost guess Saieros' next move, and started to back away.
“John! John please wake up! Help me!” Jack pleaded. It came out more hysterical than he had intended. Jack was eight months pregnant, and so close to his goal of having Will's baby. Was this really the end? A desperate solution came to mind. Jack was not going to watch as Saieros dug out the baby from his belly and squeezed the life out of it. He would not witness it! He would rather kill himself and the baby first! He smashed the cutlass against the stone wall, and it broke in half. Turning the edge towards his jutting belly, Jack stared into the black eyes of the demon who had enslaved him. With both hands, he clutched the handle of the cutlass which had been with him through so many adventures. With Will. He could not afford to crumble inside now! There would never be another offspring like this, but what was Jack to do?! He felt tears press on, felt the lump in his throat grow. He felt the tip of the blade sting on the skin of his swollen belly as the blade made a hole in his vest and through his linen shirt.
“John!” he pleaded again, and watched his son attempt to rise. Saieros raised his right arm, clenched his fingers into a fist and struck John at the back of his head. John fell lifeless to the ground, the arrows still protruding from his back. The blue light, somewhat weaker as they had rounded the sharp corner, still affected them. Jack made a mistake, and glanced from Saieros to John. That was when Saieros seized the opportunity. He lunged forward and drove the blade into Jack's body.
John looked up. In the half dark, bathed in blue light, he saw Jack fall on his knees on the ground in front of him. The cutlass. It was sticking out of his midsection. Jack had a glazed expression on his face, his brows drawn up in fear. His mouth open in a silent scream. Struggling until he came up on his elbows, John saw Jack fall down on his side, his eyes fixed on John in one last silent prayer. His eyes were wide open. Saieros took the handle of the cutlass in his right hand and drew the blade from Jack's lifeless body. Blood poured out. John made an effort to get to his knees. The arrowheads had to have been drenched in Holy Water, or something else. John shouldn't have gotten this weak. Saieros aimed his blade and cut open Jack's belly. One half crescent from hip to hip. Feeling like he was part of a nightmare, John watched as Saieros dug inside of Jack and pulled out the unborn child by its feet. He could smell the blood of the newborn, the birth water, everything. Mobilizing strength one last time, John stirred. Suddenly, there was another sickening noise as metal once again pierced flesh, Looking up, John saw a blade sticking out from between Saieros' shoulder blades. Holding the hilt, was one of the Knights Templar who had come back to finish his work. John reached forward and managed to grab hold of the baby was looking pale and lifeless, hindering it from falling to the ground. It was shivering and whimpering, a tiny bundle in his big hand. A shadow loomed over John, and he could but watch helplessly as the knight lifted the baby out of John's hand.
“Please!” John told the looming shadow in Aramaic, “help the father! Please you must help him!” The pain in his back still hammered through his nerves, but he got to his knees again. He watched the knight carry the baby off, into the blue light. The last of the knight came and dragged Jack by the arm, much to John's relief. He tried reaching around his back, and found one arrow. By chance, he managed to pull it out without leaving any bits and pieces of the arrowhead. It lessened the pain. Knowing Jack and the child was out of danger, he stumbled away into the dark where he could regain his strength. Using his demon powers he willed the last arrow out of his back and felt how he slowly returned to his old self. Hearing noises, John turned to investigate. It was Saieros, who intended to elope into the darkness as well. John waited. And waited. Saieros obviously regained his strength the moment darkness enveloped him completely, but then it was already too late. John came up behind him, grabbed the hilt and with all of his might he drove the blade further into Saieros' back, snarling loudly. Saieros screamed out his pain and twisted around instinctively, grasping for his attacker. But John was already around on the other side and charged him straight on, digging his claws into his neck. Black blood gushed out, bathing John's face which was twisted with fury. He withdrew his claws, and pierced Saieros' midsection instead, digging deep into the soft flesh. The elder demon warlord roared in pain. John's eyes were all red. The fury and the sorrow over Jack had driven him straight into The Red Veil, a fatalistic state of mind which fed on the terror of others. Jack Sparrow was gone! Somewhere deep inside there was a slim hope that somehow the knights would save him, that God would bestow his mercy upon Jack Sparrow the pirate lord. But that was a slim hope. And that was all John had to rely on ever returning from the Red Veil. All of his frustrations which had built up over the years from watching Jack return from one of his encounters with Saieros, now poured out. Countless times he had found Jack as he had been released from his confines, black and blue, beaten to a near unrecognisable state, raped out of his mind. And each time it was followed by Jack's despair to learn he was once again pregnant. How many evenings had John not spent at his father's side, talking and talking, coming up with ways to deal with the ever-present threat that Saieros posed? None of that mattered now. Hell itself could sail its own sea, Earth itself and Mankind could just cease to exist for all he cared. Jack was dead! John didn't stop until half of Saieros' entrails were in a heap on the floor. Then he grasped the half dead demon and strode off into the blue light. He didn't stop even when his skin began to tingle with pain.

There was a noise. A gurgling weak noise which reminded him of something he had heard before. Then there were some very familiar children's noises. Jack Sparrow opened his eyes. He looked straight into a face where his own eyes stared back at him.
“Dadda awake now” the child said and turned his head to look at someone standing taller than himself. Someone put a cup to his mouth and he drank crisp cold water. It felt good and invigorating. Then he remembered being the father of Jacob and Israel. It was Jacob he had just seen. The light around him shone so strong he had difficulties seeing everything else.
“Looky baby” Jacob said and touched something laying in Jack's arms. Then Jack remembered. He bent his head just enough to see an infant resting on his right arm, next to his body. The immense fear returned, as the baby seemed lifeless. Was it too late? Jack managed to roll up without dropping the baby. He felt weak, his fingers shivering as he undid the wrappings someone had put around the infant. Touching those miniature hands with the tip of his index finger Jack held his breath. He withstood the impulse to shake the baby awake. It was oh so small, had a mass of black hair on its head and kept its eyes shut. It was a perfect baby boy. Will's boy. Jack undid his vest, opened up his shirt and put the naked baby to his chest. He tied the wrappings around his shoulder and ribs, securing the baby there. The baby had moved its tiny hands and that was indication enough. When he was done, Jack saw that one of the last knights held out a flask. It was a vial containing some water. He gestured towards the infant, and Jack understood it was meant as nourishment.
In the centre of the room, on a pedestal stood a large silver bowl filled with water which dripped down from a crack in the ceiling. In the silver bowl lay the third Tear of God. Jack reached out and took a handful of water into his mouth. Drinking the water made him feel invigorated. He managed to feed a drop to the baby, and its colour improved radically. Jacob and Israel followed Jack's example and drank it as well, but splashing in the water and playing with the stone was just as much fun. But where was John? Remembering how John was wounded, panic began to bloom in his chest. He walked out into the corridor, as far as they'd come when they had been attacked. John was nowhere in sight. Only the dead bodies of the knights.
“John?!” Jack almost whispered. “John where are you?!”
No reply. Jack returned to the blue light and the knights. He sat down on a bench.
“Israel? Where is Gilbert?”
“Hm?”
“Where is John's friend?”
“We came to you, Dadda.”
“Yes, but where is Gilbert? Where is the man that came with John on our boat?”
“He's on the boat” Jacob replied.
“We came to find you Dadda. Baby said so. Baby was scared.”
“Baby said so? Huh?!” Jack stared down at the infant. “Well, young man, it's good to know you're the practical sort right from the beginning. How did you children get here, anyway?”
“We flew big scary tunnel.”
“Did you see John?”
“No. Only the man with the crown”.
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Legends of the Treasure Child: Sparrow's Nest