The day had come. Saba was in their sight, an island bigger than the last, cut off by a long stretch of jungle. Trees disguised the mountains far into the land, a wall of emerald green like no other. The sky was clear and turquoise, fluttering down to the white sand by the waters. Lydia was dragged outside by the shackles on her wrists, gasping as she saw the islands beauty. Her parents, as smart as they were, had picked the perfect location, an island so much like themselves. Beautiful and full of secrets. Of course they picked the island with the longest trek, but the easier it were for them to escape before they got to the treasure.
Her royal blue dress pooled down to her ankles as she stumbled forward, O'Malley watching the island ahead. Forced by his side, Lydia scanned the deck for any sign of her crew, just as they were being heaved one by one to the deck next. A smile crossed her face as she saw Jack was alive, and that he was healing despite the clear ache in his legs. Barbossa and Gibbs followed him, rather suspiciously eyeing up the other men onboard, like they were counting them. As their eyes met hers they made a noise seeing her in the dress for the first time.
Jack had described it. Described it's intricate patterns and how it fitted her like it was designed especially for her, yet they believed it was Jack being Jack. How he always talked of her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, which was never something they could deny. Her shoulders slumped as she got used to the chains around her wrists, twisting her arms to get any sort of leverage. Subtly, Barbossa elbowed Jack, titling his head to Lydia so his attention would be on her. Jack's eyes softened immediately.
Even doing something as simple as making sure her wrists wouldn't run raw, she still was so beautiful. His breath hitched at the sight of her, still perfect when she was so broken. Sleep had aided her, giving her time to gain strength and courage needed for the next event. Her makeup was gone, her hair was up in a ponytail with little beads threaded through and her dress was securely on. Although in the puffy dress, Lydia stood with as much confidence as she could muster, glaring at anyone who even dared to look her way.
"As per our ladies request we'll take you all along with us," O'Malley announced "though I was skeptical best to give madam's dying wish a run at least."
"You said no harm was going to come of her. Going back on your word again mate?" Jack smirked.
"Well when she told me she agreed with you ruining my life I thought she was fair game huh dear?"
Rolling her eyes, Lydia looked away the best she could, difficult when omalley was holding the chains binding her wrists together.
"Silent treatment that's alright. Load the boats! No one rests till we find the treasure!" He shouted, tugging Lydia along to his boat.
Reaching the beach was easy. Soon O'Malley's crew had their captives in an orderly huddle, Lydia in the front with O'Malley holding her chain. Peter blocked her off from Jack, mumbling to himself as he held Lydia's bag. After informing them that she needed the journals to understand the secret code to get to the treasure, Lydia was allowed a few of her belongings to be carried by Peter, something O'Malley grinned at. Seeing his son moan silently with the satchel in hand, his sword in his other, was not a bad sight for him.
Yet what he didn't see behind the scrunched up face and unrecognizable grumbles, was that Peter's mind was somewhere else, watching Lydia. Although his grip was tight on his sword he was completely relaxed, formulating his own plan, like everyone appeared to be doing. He wanted her. He wanted her in her beautiful gown and soft hair, and he wouldn't stop until he had her. Peter imagined slipping away with her, escaping the Pearl and O'Malley and living how he dreamed of. A little cottage in a blanket of fields stretching over the horizon, Peter and Lydia. His lips twitched into a smile. Before he didn't care for her, he was prepared to use her for his father's revenge, but now it was different. Now he couldn't bare let her die. Because he wanted her for himself.
Once they hit the sand, Barbossa and Gibbs counted the men around them again, specifically their weapons. O'Malley's crew came with their fair share and as they strolled up the sandy beach to patches of grass, they eyed each man and what they carried with them. Guns, swords, even axes and bombs were wrapped around the men's belts, like tokens of their strength. The tall broody man to Pintels left carried and axe that was the length of his torse while the short man to Barbossa's right had a collection of knives and bombs on his person.
"Do you know where we're heading?" O'Malley asked as they reached the first few trees.
"No I don't. But I assume it has to be one of the mountains, where a hidden cave must lie," she told him, O'Malley nodding in agreement.
Truth be told Lydia had no recollection or clue where the treasure must lie, but picking the furthest option would be the best for her to figure out her plan of escape. If she could wiggle her hands free at all. The chain was unmovable, impossible to even twist her wrists through. It would take a lot to break them free, without the key that was loose around Peter's neck, presumably as she wouldn't go near him.
Jack stumbled along quietly, leaving Barbossa and Gibbs to do most of the planning. If O'Malley saw the Pearl's captain nattering to his crew, it could give away what they were planning to do. So he kept his head low and counted the grass and leaves they went by. The jungle was thick, swallowing them into the abyss. One wrong turn and you would be lost, becoming a moss covered corpse being used by the ground as fertilizer. Leaves swung low and blocked the sky, meaning only a few slips of light got through, but enough for them to see their path. With Lydia in one hand, O'Malley used his other to chop down branches and leaves in their way, holding her tight so she wouldn't trip.
The further they got in, the hotter it became. Pintel and Regetti began to fan themselves in the back, already feeling their clothes stick to their skin. A jungle like this was humid, too humid for men who carry around a variety of different metal objects with them, although the Pearl's crew was lacking in that department. Barbossa and Gibbs had counted all the weapons surrounding them, liking the look of the shiny sword in Peter's hand. Pirates had an eye for shiny objects, and this one was definitely one to fight over. But ambushing them when they were on the move was not the plan.
"Would have thought you'd want to have some conversation. After all you were very talkative the other day," Jack caught up to Peter.
"Shut up pirate."
"Oh but don't forget you're one too my friend. No good pretending you're not," Jack grinned mischievously "so what is your big plan? Use me and Lydia for the riches and kill us just like that? Seems foolish."
"Jack I'm rather tired of your voice," O'Malley called over his shoulder.
"You'd be surprised how many people have told me that."
"Would I?"
O'Malley stopped briefly to look over his shoulder, giving Jack a glare before continuing on his walk. Lydia glance over her shoulder as well, Jack sending her a wink that left a rosy colour on her cheeks, which them made Peter's sneer under his breath.
Keeping an eye of Peter, Jack felt a smile flick onto his face. He knows that look. The look of jealousy, the same one he wore when he found out about Peter and Lydia. That same narrowed eyes look that Jack gave on the ship, he knew it. Peter could pretend Jack couldn't, pretend that anyone couldn't see it, but it was right in front of their faces.
It had to be mid-day, the sun blaring through the trees and pressing into the already burning skin of the crew. The humidity left them almost soaked in their own sweat, hoping to come across some form of water source on the way. Because O'Malley never stopped. He didn't pause for a break so they could breath or have a drink, he didn't even let his men have a rest. O'Malley kept pushing and pushing, desperate to find the treasure by sundown. Like a dog, his own panting was audible to the group, sweat dripping down his forehead. He couldn't last long himself, the heat was too much.
Lydia watched him intently. She was the only one to see his face, and she thought the others were lucky not to see it. Like the heat falling from the sky, the smell of the men surrounding her rose from the ground, both equally has poignant. One attacked from above, one rose from their feet to their necks. Both were just as intense, Lydia fanning herself with her hand the best she could. Suffocatingly, her dress clung to her body, her missing her loose fitting shirt she preferably wore. At least then she was covered and still able to breath. In her dress, not only was it tight and warm, it was much to revealing for her.
Dresses had become such the hassle. Lydia missed the freedom of her old dresses, the ones that fitted her the way she wanted and not how certain men deemed necessary. They'd become less of something she wore for herself and more for other people.
Through a patch of heavy trees were an open space of grass, like the perfect waypoint. It was a full circle, the sun creating a stream of light to the side where the sun was slipping by with the afternoon. There O'Malley halted, flipping out a flask from his pocket and taking a long drink before offering it to Lydia. She turned him down.
"So we finally having a rest. We must have been walking for hours," Jack stepped forward.
Huffing, O'Malley turned to him.
"You know what? Alright. Let's settle for the night, I've had enough walking for one day," O'Malley grumbled, throwing down Lydia's chain and walking away.
Hesitating, Lydia picked up the loose chain and held it in her hands, scanning her eyes to where Jack was. He smiled to her as he strolled to Barbossa, inviting her to join with a twitch of his brow. Crossing over to him, she was halted by on of O'Malley's men.
"Oh no. No need for you two conspiring," O'Malley said "I'm sure you don't mind my company."
"Fine. But I would like to sit."
"Of course for the lovely lady," O'Malley guided her away.
Pulling the chain so it was taut of the tree, Lydia was anchored down, restricted to log she sat on with her wrists in her lamp. It wasn't necessary, as the rest of the Pearl's crew were left chain free in a protected huddle, but O'Malley insisted Lydia be separated from the rest of the crew for reasons he thought were smart but maybe weren't so after all.
As the hours slipped by it seemed the rest was needed for the Pearl's crew. A lot can be planned when you're locked in a huddle. It meant they could plan out their escape further, waiting ever so patiently for the night to come in. That would be the perfect time. However how was the next question. They were outnumbered, overpowered and without luck. Such a small group would be unlikely to beat O'Malley's crew, especially when they held all the weapons and they had none. Jack would throw in his own input but it was no use, not even his crazy ideas could get them out of this one.
••••••••••
Except of course for the men still on the Pearl. Cotton for the last couple days had been stuck in boredom, petting his parrot who was locked in the brig with him and the rest of the crew. The man of few words was growing tired of the scraps left by O'Malley's crew, tired of his own crew members bickering. He wanted an out. No longer was he going to be the one to sit and wait for it all to happen, he was going to help them, starting with getting out of the brig.
Signalling to his bird he nodded to the keys that were attached to the wall where a guard was eating his dinner. The parrot squawked and hoped of his shoulder to an open I'm the cage.
"What's he doing cotton?" One of the crew members with him asked.
But Cotton didn't answer, he held up a finger to his lips to tell him to be quiet, not to make another noise. His specialty was his silence, so he will lead as such. Perking up, the men in the surrounding cells leaned closer to the bars, watching the parrot edge closer outside the cage. With each hop, the guard munched on his food, completely oblivious to the escape attempt happening right beside him. Cotton smiled to the parrot, encouraging him to make their escape.
And the parrot did just that.
Launching out the gap in the bars, Cotton's parrot belched louder that it ever did before, pounding into the man's face mid bite. The crew sniggered as the guards food was wedged into his face before sliding into his lap. Any sane person would start questioning how Cotton managed to get his parrot to do that, as all the previous times he attempted his parrot was not so responsive. But as the crew had been living of crumbs from leftovers, their sanity didn't question the bird pecking the skin of the guard. In fact they cheered it.
That parrot had some power to him. It stabbed and stabbed into the man's face, him screaming and swinging his arms around in a defense, yet failing too. So his next best idea was standing up and making a run for it, forgetting his guard duties for the sake of his sanity. Cotton's parrot stopped as soon as he slipped away and if he had a humans face, this parrot would be very smug in that moment. As the Pearl's crew clapped the parrot, it snatched the keys off the hook and flew back to cotton, dropping it into his hands. Silently, Cotton thanked him before unlocking the door, making the crew leave just as quietly he freed the rest of them.
"What do we do now?" A crew member asked.
"Yeah we're a bit outnumbered here," another said.
"Armoury below!" Cotton's parrot squawked, the men's eyes lighting up.
Sneaking by O'Malley's crew was easier that expected, mostly because their were only a few on the Pearl. Heading down to the armory, Cotton kept a close eye on the men on the ship, they needed to save the crew, wherever they may be in that moment. Their journey had stopped, they'd must had come to the island by now, so they had to get to them quick before something could happen.
The armory was small but held all their weapons they'd "collected" through their times. Swords, guns, all sorts were neatly sorted below deck. Cotton sent them off fast, telling them in his own way to get enough for them and they crew that's captured. His first thought was what his Captain needed. He deserved only the best, and Cotton was going to find it. Digging around he found a shining silver sword that he was surprised hadn't been used, it's spiraling pattern so beautiful he could barely pull his eyes away. As he slipped it into his belt as well as his own sword, his next thought was Lydia.
Cotton thought of her like a daughter he never had. That sweet young girl that was gentle and kind to every one of the crewmen. He didn't know what happened on O'Malley's ship, or in the cave, but he was determined to help her.
"We got everything we could Cotton. Now we need to get of this ship and 'elp them," a crewman said.
"Aaa get her sword!" Cotton's parrot squawked.
"What sword?"
Cotton understood because it was the one thing Lydia never took anywhere with her. Her trusted Mahogany sword. He nodded and motioned for them to follow suit, guiding them up the stairs to where O'Malley's men lied. In a group they shared dinner and laughed together, until seeing their captives out the brig with an impressive amount of weapons.
"Oi what you lot doing?" A gruesome man questioned them.
"Well we are gonna 'elp our captain. So if you don't mind," the man next to Cotton sneared, pulling out his sword.
••••••••••
The log wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep in the world, as well as being surrounded by men smelling worse that anything Lydia had ever smelled before. While her crew sat together strategizing, she slouched with her hands in her lap, her eyes drooping with every passing minute. She could see them planning something, and she wanted to awake when it happens.
O'Malley was with his own crew, half his attention on her and half it on whatever one of his men where saying to him. Peter was by his side, head in one hand while his other played with rocks on the ground like a child bored out it's mind. How she could ever found Peter attractive Lydia didn't know, because watching him sulk was not a good look. Then again what he did to her would be enough to stop anyone finding him attractive. Peering over to Jack, he was mid whisper, using his time up wisely.
If it weren't for Lydia spying on him, Jack would have been able to hold his focus, but she was so profound in his eyesight he couldn't help but turn and smile. Her face instantly warmed as he did, like he was all she needed to keep herself content. And he was. But they both knew this, they both knew the effect each had on the other, nothing could break that.
"Jack we're outnumbered what do we do?" Gibbs shook his shoulder.
"The only one tied down is Lydia, when they sleep we attack," he said, most of his crew nodding except for Barbossa.
"And how you suppose we do that?"
"Um... Improvise. What I do best," Jack replied.
Barbossa scoffed lightly and leaned back where he was sat. A plan as vague as improvise what not what they needed. O'Malley's men had their weapons tight in their hands, and pirates are often trained to wake up fast when there's an intruder. What hope did they have, Barbossa was beginning to think they had none. So did the rest of the crew. O'Malley had outsmarted them, it would take a miracle to set them free.
As everyone else fell asleep, Barbossa stayed awake, tapping his foot impatiently. Lydia was on her own, her eyes fully shut after fighting it for so long, the crew huddled together, Pintel and Regetti using each other as pillows. How they could be so fine with their impending deaths Barbossa didn't know. He'd seen death, like Jack and Lydia, it wasn't something he wanted to see again. He'd died for Jack before, he's not doing it again.
So as he heard the faint tussle of bushes in the distance, his head instantly perked up. He moved to add some more wood to the fire, acting like a signal for whatever was out there, if it wasn't just the wind. The endless jungle had no other light, anyone venturing inside would find them straight away. After that the tussles were silent, as if they knew they'd been heard. Instead of pushing to know what it was, Barbossa bent back to where he was sitting, nudging Jack to wake him. He grumbled and swatted his hand away but when Barbossa hit him harder, he fully awoke.
"What, what Hector?" He moaned rubbing his eyes.
"I heard something in the jungle."
"Probably some animal preparing to eat us. Though it'll probably go for Gibbs first you because of the-"
"What's going for me first?" Gibbs woke next, forcing Barbossa to roll his eyes and shush them.
"Gents hush your traps will you. I 'eard something and it didn't sound like an animal," he whispered.
Animatedly, Jack shut his mouth and made a zipping motion with his hand. It was obvious he didn't believe him. Until he heard a russling sound himself. At one he brightened up, all his sleepiness gone. His hand reached for his sword but it wasn't there. None of them had anything, but the ability to wait it out.
Slowly it got louder and louder, more and more of the same sound echoing in the trees. Like it was multiplying, the sound becoming clearer the closer it got. The sound of footprints, and a faint squawk that was quickly hushed. Grinning Jack knew the squawk, hearing it so many times in the past it became the Pearl's pet. Out of the shadows came a face, with a big grin and messy wrinkles. Cotton. The faces of the crew lit up, keeping their silence as Cotton stepped fully into the light holding so many weapons Jack was surprised he could carry them all.
Not to rouse suspicion from sleeping O'Malley, Cotton crouched and layed the weapons out, pointing behind him to where they found the rest of the crew was hidden. Another man appeared beside Cotton with more weapons, acting like Cotton's voice.
"We've come to rescue you Captain," he said "figured they must of taken your weapons, so we bought you some new ones."
"Good lad. Cotton I can't thank you enough," Jack lightly patted his shoulder, Cotton grinning wider.
"There should be enough for everyone, if not, steal theirs," the man chuckled.
"Aye that'll about do it. You lads saved us," Barbossa thanked them "now we need to plan this properly.
Distributing the weapons seemed easy enough, until Jack got his own. A sword he hadn't used in a long time. He kept it with him wherever he went, hidden away in the armory so no one saw. Luckily no one did, not even Barbossa when he took the Pearl from him. It was a weapon of his past, decorated the way he used to hold dear. Jack saw no purpose in fancy weaponry, which you would believe would be the opposite with how he behaves, but when he looses half the things he steals, it didn't seem worth it. Holding it in his hands he felt the perfect weight of the blade, the handle that was fitted for only his hand. Why hadn't he used it for so long he may never know, because now he felt unstoppable.
When everyone had their weapons, there was one left in the middle of the pile. Lydia's sword. One she got from her parents in the locker, the Mahogany handle gleaming in the moonlight. Everyone stopped and stared before turning to Lydia, her peacefully sleeping alone. Jack's eyes softened as he looked at her, her body slumped in the dress, using it to warm her. Taking the sword he tucked it away on his belt, ordering his men to get ready.
"How we're going to attack? Bit bad to wake em up like that," Pintel said.
"Then let's give them a nice waking, they wanted a fight, let's give it to them," Jack replied "Cotton, Cotton's parrot, do the honors."
Nodding, Cotton looked to his shoulder where he parrot stood proud, already knowing his order but waiting for him to say it anyway. Jerking his head Cotton gave the go ahead and perhaps because most of the men hadn't eaten enough, but they could have sworn they saw the parrot smile. Launching from his shoulder, the parrot flew through the air, squawking like a maniac. He landed on O'Malley and screamed into his ear, waking him and his men roughly. They plugged their ears as they rose, O'Malley grunting to himself as he swatted the bird away.
"What is the meaning of this!" He shouted.
Lydia was awoken also, gasping as she saw the rest of the Pearl's crew standing behind Jack and Barbossa, swords at the ready.
"Sorry mate but it looks like your men aren't as smart as you hoped aye?" Jack giggled as he jumped forward "now you wanted a fight so let's have one, so you can die and finish this once and for all. Savvy?"
Snatching his sword, O'Malley stepped up, Peter doing the same.
"What makes you think you can beat us. Look at you," he said.
"Yeah well look at you mate. I believe you've forgotten a very important thing," Jack smiled at Barbossa "tell him."
Rolling his eyes, Barbossa smirked.
"He's Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Aye that I am."
With his last words, Jack sprung forward, clashing his sword with O'Malley's. It was a tight space, Lydia was shocked they'd picked this area to fight, but Jack was more eager to kill than ever. And she wanted a hand in. While the rest of the men began to fight, Lydia shook and wiggled her shackles. They were still on tight, keeping her locked to the tree behind her. She needed the key. The shiny piece of metal conveniently strapped around Peter's neck. Catching his eye, she glared, Peter understanding and laughing as he swung at Barbossa. Standing up, she began to tug at the tree, as if it would do anything. The guards surrounding her had all since abandoned their posts, probably for the better as Pintel and Regetti ran madly at them. Cursing under her breath, Lydia scanned around for anything, a twig maybe, something flimsy that she could pick the lock with. Unfortunately however, the ground was bare, although beginning to be filled with men's bodies crashing to the ground.
"The key is around Peter's neck by the way!" Lydia called, hoping Barbossa heard her.
And he did, spinning back to face Peter who began to grow pale. Barbossa had no plans to kill Peter, that was more suited for Jack or Lydia, but he could hold him off until they get to him themselves. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy throwing the boy off. Barbossa had his own pent up rage, brewing deep inside a hatred so strong it almost consumed him. Peter wrecked both Jack and Lydia, two people Barbossa reluctantly cared for. Like a father in an odd way, a young dad he would call himself, he wanted the best for them. And himself of course, which involved a very nice ship if he kept them alive.
So when he finally saw the flash of a key around Peter's neck, Barbossa went in, swiping his sword through to hook of the string, yanking it away until the key was in his hand. Peter had to give it to him, he was excellent on the sword. Freeing Lydia was one of his top priorities either way, he wanted her to watch everything he planned. Checking over his shoulder, Barbossa tossed Lydia the key, her snatching it and lowering it to her wrists.
"That was a clever trick old man," Peter snarled "shame now really isn't it?"
"Shame about what?"
"Shame that you're gonna have to step aside when I take him down," Lydia appeared by Barbossa's side, twiddling her sword in her hand that Jack tossed to her.
"Ah that is a shame," Barbossa patted her shoulder, leaving to attack a different pirate.
Huffing, Peter raised his sword, his face sweating as he saw the pride on hers.
"I don't want to hurt you. We were going to leave together," Peter said.
"Us? Together? Look what you did to me, to my family! How do you ever think I would have an ounce of attraction towards you?" Lydia laughed mockingly.
Peter's face grew dark as he pounced forward, swiping the best he could. But he was sloppy, Lydia barely making any effort to move out the way before countering his attack. His eyes were blinded in rage, face red as he swung as hard as he could, forcing Lydia backwards. Like a gladiators stage, fights continued around them, the small space proving to be unworthy for this battle. She's fought in caves, great ships and islands, a tiny clearing in a jungle was horrendous. Light was only brought through the light haze of moonlight and the bonfire that struggling to keep itself alight, leaving harsh shadows on Peter's face. He'd turned from the sweet man she first met, to an enraged psychopath, earning in low blows across her as she moved backwards. Harshly, Lydia's back collided with another's, her having just enough time to spy over her shoulder to see who it was.
"You alright love?" Jack winked.
Scoffing lightly, Lydia dropped her hand, feeling around Jack's belt for any she could use against Peter.
"Darling I don't think now's the time. Perhaps later?"
"Oh you flirt that's not what I'm after," she grunted, snagging his knife from his belt.
Pushing against Peter's sword, she got back to get the upper hand. She kept her dagger filled hand behind her, planting her feet strong on the ground as Peter lost control. He was losing his breath, putting in so much energy the first round, he didn't have enough for more. As much as she wanted him dead, Lydia saw the confusion and terror on his face. The confliction. It was unclear, how he changed so face, how he had no self control over his emotions, rather to just stab with no aim.
Most of these men had been double her age, with built up anger over years of hardships. Peter had to be around the same age as her and had nothing else except his father's plan. Lydia wouldn't feel sorry for him, he's proven to deserve no sympathy, however a child raised this way is surely likely to cross this path. Lydia was lucky to wake on Port Royals beaches and not a place like Tortuga, or to a family like O'Malley. She joined this willingly, Peter didn't.
Panting, Peter fell to his knees, falling further as Lydia looked down at him. He could stop her, push his sword right to her heart as she stood over him motionless. He had every possiblity to, but he didn't. Resting on his elbows, Peter watched her, her sword pointed to his neck to keep him still, but her dress rising from her heavy breathing like her chest was trying to push it away from her. As the fighting continued, they stayed completely still.
Having something rare in common with someone can be revolutionary, or terrifying. They were both born into this world, suffering extremely different lives. Peter could have been her if she was left in the wrong hands, she could have grown up just as blind to the joys life can bring. Determination was one of Peter's clear powers, though it came with a price. As as he was chasing that plan, that revenge for his father, he forgot the part where he was meant to live. He forgot that life isn't about claiming power or following your parents demands, it's about claiming your own path. Lydia was lucky to find her own life and future, with an incredible found family by her side, and she despised that Peter missed that. Because amongst all the hatred, he was still a boy, lost within the clutches of greed.
"Why are you just standing there? Kill me," Peter whimpered.
"I don't want to. Yes I mean I do but..." Lydia kept her sword steady "you didn't deserve this, you deserved a good life."
"It's too late for that. Don't feel empathy for me now Lydia. Or you let my father win," he said "I can't thank you enough."
Quickly, Lydia grabbed his arms and pulled him in front of her, pressing her sword to his throat. He flinched but complied, not fighting back against her.
"I hate this part," Lydia whispered "but if I can use you to take down your father, I hope you can forgive me."
"He wouldn't care. All he's wanted is to kill Jack all these years," Peter murmured "he died a long time ago, so did I. I'm not who I used to be. Maybe in another life we could have been friends."
"Hmm maybe," Lydia looked up "O'Malley! Say goodbye!"
Lydia Mahogany has killed quite a few people in her times as a pirate. Big enemies to nameless men following orders. It doesn't make it easier, killing more and more. It only makes her defect more from who she used to be. You can never wipe away their blood, or their face melting to the ground. You one day can forget them, if you've killed that many, but a part of you is broken. You're not the same. You can't convince yourself that you are.
"No!" O'Malley screamed as Peter's body dropped to the ground "what have you done to my boy!"
Like he carried a thousand voices, O'Malley screamed loud enough to shake the trees. Kicking Jack to the side, O'Malley charged for her, Lydia bringing up her sword. Everyone stopped and turned, seeing the body at her feet.
"Don't act like you cared!" Lydia shouted as their swords clashed.
"That's my son of course I-"
"That's just it though isn't it? He's your son! You've dragged- you've dragged him everywhere for your stupid- revenge!" She grunted in-between blows "he didn't want that! You ruined any life he could have had!"
"No!"
Behind them, Jack stood intently, everyone still with him. Jack didn't care for Peter, he didn't care for their father son relationship. He never had a great one with his own father, he couldn't bring himself to look at others. People moved as Lydia and O'Malley crashed together, her dress almost tripping her up.
As she began to stumble, Jack stepped forward and swung and arm under her, catching her before she could fall. Gently he let her go before standing before O'Malley himself. O'Malley halted for a brief moment, his chest reaching high as he breathed in.
"It's not worth it O'Malley. Why are you doing this?" Jack held his arms out "must you follow this man? A man trying to kill me for freeing slaves!" Jack addressed O'Malley's crew "your Captain is a coward. Always had been, always will be."
"I was terrified of you when we first met. I saw you as a ruthless cold man, which you are," Lydia stepped next to Jack "but this? This? I don't understand you. I don't understand why you're doing this. The people we fought before you at least had a solid reason to start these battles. Granted not good ones but more solid that oh he ruined my life boo hoo," Lydia mocked "do you want to know what Peter said to me? That you wouldn't care if he died. That he died a long time ago, so did you. Peter is my age, and you killed before he could live. It's crazy really."
Gazing at Jack, his face was in awe. How strong she'd become. From a woman so timid, so gentle, to someone with so much strength and courage. It was like he was falling in love with her all over again.
Dropping his sword, O'Malley collasped to his knees, blinking rapidly. His men made faces to each other, surrounded by the Pearl. Snaking an arm around Lydia's waist, Jack stared. Stared at O'Malley's defeated face. He didn't have to be killed to understand he's lost, he lost a long time ago. He lost when he didn't do what's right, before Jack was Jack Sparrow, before the Pearl was the Pearl.
It's easy to follow rules you believe in. It's easy to go in blind when you have the ability and privilege to do so. You sometimes forget your morality when faced with that privilege. If you can't see the horror people go through everyday, you sometimes lose your empathy for them. It doesn't make any sense, how someone can deny other people, deny them of basic things. But somehow, it always happens. However, though it is engrained, those who commit those monstrosities, those with too much privilege, will always get what comes to them. Because when you're at the top you don't spot when people climb your tower and when they tear you down, you'll scream, but that's what you deserve. You deserve what's coming, don't act like you don't.
Bringing up his sword, Jack fiddled with it, the blade glowing in the night. Killing like this isn't worth it. Someone unarmed with no way of fighting back shouldn't be killed this way. But men like this, perhaps they do. Shifting his focus to O'Malley, Jack contemplated it. He wanted to take O'Malley down in battle, have everyone watch as he takes him down as dramatically as he could muster. But this, this was pathetic. O'Malley crashed at his knees, almost begging for death. Was it worth it? Jack didn't know.
He threw his sword down, letting collide with the grass. O'Malley glimpsed up, seeing Jack shake his head. Tears were in the older mans eyes, he knew his fate, he was waiting for it. O'Malley's crew were already dead, Barbossa and Gibbs making sure every last one was finished, excluding the ones that ran as soon as they knew they lost. Squeezing Lydia's side, Jack nodded to his men.
"Let's go."
Turning around, they all lowered their heads, beginning their descent into the jungle.
"What no! You call me a coward when you can't even kill me, what is this?" O'Malley startled them as he shot to his feet "you had every chance, every last-"
Within a breath, Lydia spun around, stabbing the dagger in her hand into his chest. She couldn't do, couldn't leave him to live while his son died, it's not fair. She wouldn't be unfair. Again he collapsed to the ground, but not on his own accord, clutching his chest as blood spurted from him. Gasping Jack looked to her, taking the dagger and ripping it from her arms.
"Why did you- why-?"
"I can't. He doesn't deserve it. I'm sorry," Lydia broke down.
Taking Lydia's weapons from her hands, Jack pulled her into an embrace, sighing and he touched her again. Subconsciously his hand came to her head, taking her that much closer to him. Barbossa and the crew put down their weapons and rested as well, exhausted.
Everyone was tired, tired of these messes. They should have expected this adventure to turn south, but no one should go into things with a pessimist way of thinking. When they defeated Beckett and Davy Jones they were on top of the world, believing they were fully unstoppable. Turns out even when you've won, there's more room to fall. They stumbled but survived.
"I love you Lydia, I'm so sorry," Jack held her face in his hands "I can't help but feel this is all my fault."
"But it's not. I should have told you about Peter when he first showed up. I'm sorry," Lydia whispered.
Resting his forehead against hers, Jack sighed again. He didn't want to let her go. He was anchored to her, refusing to pry his hands away. They could see each other, but never be close enough to reach for. So holding her now, Jack felt tears in his eyes.
Your past can be a dangerous weapon. With no care it can rage and come back after you. But even if you believe you have a good past, it can still show that pain. Jack wasn't proud of his past or what he's done to get where he is. A pirates life is one of tricks and often misery. They say freedom is was a pirate thrives on, however those are only in stories. Pirates were a dying breed, being challenged by men full of greed and hate. Once Jack wanted a pirates life you read in stories, one of mischief. Now he only wanted one of happiness, and perhaps doing something that's worth it. Glancing up to his crew, Jack saw the ache in their bones, the injuries, he wanted nothing more than for them all to be happy. For what they've done for him, could make any man cry.
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Writers note:
Wow O'Malley and Peter met their demise! I always fear this story had been too ruched, mostly because how short it's been. I hope O'Malley and Peter were developed enough and made sense. Please drop me a comment telling me how you thought about it, that would be greatly appreciated.
But now they're gone! And with only two chapters left, let's hope it goes well from here! This story is close to be over and I don't plan on continuing it further. I've spent 7 months developing Lydia from the first fic to now, I really hope you've all enjoyed.
Tell me what you think and as always,
Happy reading ❤️