Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Brethren Court

"It's not just about living forever, Jackie. The trick is, living with yourself forever."

Those words, delivered many years ago, came back to haunt Jack Sparrow as he took his place in the high-backed chair on the Pirate Halls balcony, overlooking the cluster of people gathered around a long table below.

His feet propped on a chest which seemed to be positioned for this specific purpose as he settled himself, placing a bottle of rum in easy reach and carefully propping a guitar against the leg of his chair.

Jack sighed softly as his gaze turned to the hall.

His mother's silver hair caught his attention instantly as she sat erect at the head of the table. Her posture was unnaturally straight, stiffer than her usual way of sitting, her shoulders tight.
The candlelight caught on the chunk of obsidian set in a gold band on her wedding finger as her fingertips drummed restlessly on the table.

At her right, closer than was technically allowed, sat a young woman, barely in adulthood, dark brown hair hanging down her back from under a tricorn hat.

As Jack watched, her head inclined closer to his mother's and she spoke softly.

His gaze moved on to the next occupied seat, on his mother's other side.

A blonde woman around his own age sat in it, a relaxed air to her posture as she talked to the man next to her, who was older, grey liberally streaking the light brown hair that fell almost to his shoulders.

Jack ran through those present so far, matching faces to domains.
"Madagascar, the Caribbean, the Atlantic, Norwegian sea-" he paused as another figure entered, the candlelight picking out her dark hair and eyes.

She walked quietly but confidently to the head of the table, giving his mother a smile before speaking to her.

Jack watched his mother nod a few times before gesturing to the unoccupied seat beside the young woman on her right.

"Captain McGuire must've retired," he muttered, recognising the newcomer.

"Very observant," said a voice from the door behind him.

Jack looked up sharply, hand automatically going to his pistol.

A woman entered the balcony, hands in the pockets of her frock coat, the light catching the gold embroidery decorating the dark blue cloth.

"Wary aren't you?"

She sat in a rickety chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation, brushing a strand of golden-brown hair behind her ear.

"In this place, its better to be," Jack said sagely, taking his hand off his pistol and reaching for his rum.

"You gave Clarissa your seat?"

"Yes. I'm just fed up with the Court. Is Storm here?"

Jack took a sip of rum and offered her the bottle. "That's understandable. And yeah, she's here. Most likely in the library."

"I'll go and say hello then. Talk to you later."

"Likewise Tianna."
Jack nodded with a smile as she left before turning his attention back to the hall.

Another seat had been filled by a dark-haired young man who sat leaning back in his chair with an air of insolence as he looked over the other Lords.

Jack's hand drifted to his pistol as the man's gaze lingered on his daughter.
"Eyes to yourself mate," he muttered under his breath.

He did another quick check.
"Mum, Diana, Clarissa, Galathiel, Lúðvíg, that little prick from the Black Sea. That's six, who else are we waitin' for?"