The Pirate King Ch. 24

A man rushed towards us. Dave snatched him only feet from our forms. We watched his tear-stained face as it was lifted across the deck, then as it disappeared over the side of the deck. The Captain remained impassive. I wondered just what things these men had done to deserve their fate. The look in his eyes, the way he watched the man's trajectory with relief, with rage, told me I was better off not knowing.

"You're being very nice to me." Dave's voice slithered through the sobbing of the condemned men. The last of the group had descended the stairs; there were few that eluded him still on deck. He was moments from being finished.

The Captain met his eyes steadily. "Consider it a fresh start."

Davey Jones's slick smile grew until it spread across his entire face, his jagged shark teeth fighting each other for space. "You don't get a fresh start with me," he said. "I'm death."

Dave, poor Dave. He was gluttonous and over-proud of his haul that day. He should have watched my love's face, seen the way he controlled himself at every moment in this interaction. Should have paid attention to the way his soul sat pressed against the thin container of his skin, waiting to burst. Perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when my love opened his mouth and released the sky. "Then consider it mercy." The Captain began walking towards the inky pool that lapped at Dave's feet. Dave tilted his head back, a look of contempt on his face. "Remember to whom you speak."

Dave still did not see. "A body that belongs to me."

"The King." Dave drew back, his face surprised. And still the Captain moved forward. His steps fell like the turn of the earth. His hair carried the sun. Eternity shaped itself to sit in his mouth. "And I belong to no one, you least of all. Hail," said the King, and his words were stars, burning cold and bright and infinite as I watched as Dave shielded his eyes from their brilliance, "for the King will never die."

It was too much for Dave. He stumbled backwards, and I do not know if he lost his footing or if he was merely scrambling to return to his world of darkness and stagnation but his exit was not a graceful one. And still the King moved forward, his expansion constant, his power undeniable. Dave sank gracelessly, and the King approached, in that last moment, in the instant before his slitted eyes were lost to the shadows, it was possible to see that the God of Death was very, very afraid.

***

I found Cookie in his kitchen.

He didn't look up his chalk work as we entered. "Do ye have everything ye need from that place?"

I shrugged. Beside me, the Captain nodded. We had no need for any of the things that ship carried. Or at least, I hoped we didn't. The Russian had been scurrying between the two ships, carrying boxes and various objects and looking overly pleased with himself. There was no telling upon which deck he stood at the moment.

Well. The Russian could swim. "What do you need from us?"

"Nothin'." That was Minnie. She supported her body against the kitchen wall. I saw new cuts decorating the back of her hand; Alan had similar lines on his arm. "There's nothin' for it. Can't be done."

"We need your names." Alan sounded exhausted.

"They. Are. Nameless. If you weren't such a useless excuse for a cook, you'd be able to see that."

Alan ignored her barbed tongue. Old arguments. Older wounds. "Say the word, and it goes."

"Do it."

Minnie glanced at me; I said nothing. The King had spoken. Alan nodded, pressing his palms flat against the chalked boards.

The pull on my soul was slight; from the way my love stumbled against the wall, I knew he was experiencing for the first time what his name felt like borrowed for Alan's power. I remembered the feeling and pulled my bewildered love into my arms.

"What was that?" His eyes were wide. His words lacked breath.

I smiled down at him. His stars took shape on my tongue. "Your name."

"Done." Alan's announcement did not catch the King's interest. Perhaps it was because he sounded so tired; perhaps it was because the King was preoccupied with discovering what a name felt like on his soul. What such a thing would do pressed against the ocean; how cold, salty water would react to something so solid and real and his.

"Your Majesty," Alan said. My love shuddered in recognition. Bits of me beaded against the outline of his discovery. "Would you like to go up to the deck?"

I took his hand. And the King lead up into the sunlight to see what his name could do.

***

We were alone on the Northern sea.

Tiny particles fell through the air in silence, settling over the calm waters in a thin sheen that made it look as though the patch of ocean were blessed by moonlight. My childhood home, the Captain's life for who knew how many years. The King's vessel for nearly a century. When you removed the magic from it, it was nothing but rotten wood. The smell of dust reached our vessel on the wind. It smelled like a garden, rich and earthy.

"Spring," the Captain murmured. I smiled and wrapped my hands around his waist. He leaned into my arms, his hands resting atop my own. We stood and watched our pasts be slowly taken away by the ocean ocean currents. One day it would be diluted by the whole of the sea, eaten by fish, or built into nests, or turned into seashells and rocks and the skeletons of new life.

Bubbles disrupted the center of the false moonlight. "Shit." The Captain leaded forward. "Did we leave someone -"

The Russian exploded from the water, gasping for air. "Brat!" he called. He held something aloft. Even from such a long distance, it was impossible to miss his grin. "I found the weights you tried to tie to my ankles to drown me!"

"Gods." I put fingers to my temples. "That man is truly immortal."

"What good memories!" He began to swim back one handed. "You were so angry!"

I could feel the Captain's laughter as he relaxed back into my form. I wrapped my arms around him.

"Christ. We did it."

"Aye. We did."

There were only patches of the dust left visible. I watched one of the few remained break apart under the wind and wave of the sea and the Russian's powerful arms.

"What now?" The Captain's voice reached out towards those last remnants. This had been our goal. This had been our end. "What do we do now?"

I kissed the back of his head. How could he not know? I was the infinite oceans; he, the sky eternal. "Whatever we want," I told him. "We do whatever we want."

His soul shook first, then his body, and finally his voice as he threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed across the water, making the Russian stop and wave his arms in acknowledgment. Natch leaned on the railing close by, smiling.

The Captain laughed as we stood there on our ship, the breeze light on our skin, the sun warm on our soul. We had the ocean beneath us. We had a crew ready to listen to our commands. We had each other, and the universe, and a future that belonged to us.

The world was ours. We were in love. And everything was as it should be.

FIN