A Pirate's Song

Chapter 1

The smell of cannon smoke filled his nose along with the scent of burning flesh, an unpleasant odor he had gotten used to since he was merely nine winters. Ever since he rode on his first voyage, the smell of sweaty and unwashed men seemed to linger along with metallic scent of gunpowder and rum but it had always been washed away with the ocean breeze.

But now, the smell was too thick for the gentle wind.

"Cap'n!" One Eye yelled, snagging Sparrow's attention as he battled a Frenchman, their swords mingling with the satisfying notes of metal clashing together in a violent symphony, "We've blown through the main mast!"

Sparrow smirked, finally ending his game with the useless French navy man, "Take the ship!" he cried out, digging his sword further into the man's chest, twisting it in the man's stomach to a point when he pulled away, the man's bloody innards poured through the gaping hole. He watched his crew obey the order, their jubilant battle cries resonating as they swung through air by the ropes and landing on the French merchant ship. His own fingers grasped the rough rope, the gloves on his hands providing cushion between the rope and his skin. His muscles tensed as he to, sailed over to the other ship, his feet thumping against the floorboards, the moans of dying men surrounding the wreckage.

And it delighted him. Several of his men continued to take down the men that had put little resistance against the rebels, the taking of the ship becoming rather easy.

"We won Captain," Peg said after the last man fell, wiping the sweat from his brow, his peppered hair slicked back with a mixture of grease and sweat.

Sparrow's lips spread into a slow and sinister smile, "Yes, yes we did." The blonde pirate turned and raised his sword into the air, "Drinks for all!" Loud cries of glee echoed through the two ships along with the sighs of relief. Several of members of the crew went below deck, their fingers twitching with excitement of the treasure that laid below, whilst his own fingers twitched for the blade that was strapped to his thigh. A habit of his when the thirst for blood wasn't sated.

"Cap'n?" One Eye called from Neptune's Cannon.

"I'll be there is a few moments," he called back as his boots fell on the wooden boards of the burning French ship.

"H-help," a voice croaked from the pile of cadavers.

With the silence of a predator waiting for it's prey, Sparrow made his way towards the burning bodies. On top was a young Frenchman that looked about to be the same age as Sparrow. Red spreading across his white naval coat, the course blue cloth turning into a beautiful shade of purple. His eyes traveled towards the man's features his brown hair sticking to his sun kissed skin, brown eyes staring up at him, chocolate orbs filled with pain.

Sparrow's thumb traced the diamonds of his dagger as he crouched by the soldier's side, "I cannot help ye," he murmured, his breath fanning over the dying man's face, "But I can only speed up your fate."

The man's jaw clenched, his breaths coming in short gasps, "Can a pirate grant a dying man's wish?" Sparrow pursed his lips, it had been so long that he granted someone their last wish.

Ever since Andrea.

Sparrow felt his lips curl in a cruel smile, "Surely you know that pirates don't grant dying wishes, much less the one who rules the seas."

"Mon Dieu," the man gasped, his eyes widening in recognition, "You're the Siren."

Sparrow smiled, "How fortunate of you to find out who I am." He reached out, stroking the young man's cheek, the soft stubble sending shivers through his skin, "You know," he murmured softly, "Had you been a pirate I would've made you mine, but I know ye kind. Always proud to ye motherland, doing everythin' in her honor and to the fat King that sits on your throne."

The man coughed, blood painting his lips, making Sparrow lick his own, "I am pledged to serve France. To protect and die in her honor!"

Sparrow smirked, unsheathing the blade, "And die with honor you shall," he murmured, burying the knife into the man's heart, watching the light extinguish by his own hand.

"May you rest in peace," he whispered, wiping away the spray of blood that stained his unshaven jaw.

"Captain?" Peg said, his aging features visible through the cannon smoke, "The cargo has been loaded. The crew wants you present so we can split the booty."

Sparrow nodded as he got back onto his feet, "How much was in there?"

Peg dragged his wooden leg across the deck, "Three chest full of French gold, two more of them pretty jewels. The rest were pretty sheets that women love to have. Silk, they call it, from the Orient."

"Food?"

"Plenty of it. From the New Land."

Sparrow grinned, "Alright Peg," he said, latching onto a rope so he could swing over to his ship before the merchant ship dragged him down, "Let's split that cargo."

******

Raucous laughter filled the ship, the bittersweet smell of rum permeating the air along with cooking scent of recently butchered pork. Sparrow felt his lips tilt up in a smile, watching his men sing and laugh, their spirits alight from their recent capture. The contained fire illuminated their faces through the darkness of the night, the full moon shining brightly through the heavens, diamonds glittering all around pale moon.

A soft sigh left his lips as he rose to his feet, taking a sip of the amber liquid from the silver goblet he had obtained from a naval ship a few months before. Wooden boards creaked beneath his steps, his fingers grasping the rail of his ship as he stared into the inky ocean, listening to the water lapping against Neptune's Cannon. He let his fingers trace the ridges of wooden rail, the same rail Andrea had gripped when she was captain. A faint smile touched his lips at the fond memory of the She Devil. He could still see her smiling as the wind ruffled her dark hair, the black pirate hat sitting snugly on her head as silver eyes stared into the distance, searching for something that Sparrow never knew.

Yet, here he stood, in the exact place wondering if the fates had carved a destiny for him.

Fates don't exist, Andrea had said one day while she showed Sparrow how to write, You carve ye own path. Defy the odds and prove to the others ye can do better.

Be rebel, Sparrow thought with a chuckle. He glanced at his men watching their restless bodies dance around the fire, "Time for bed," he murmured under his breath before taking a swig of his rum as he made way towards his quarters, a sight of the ocean visible through the windows that adorned his quarters, casting a silver glow on his bed. The silky white sheets beckoning for him but he didn't dare to without bathing. Silk was something difficult to come by and the blood in his clothes would surely stain them. An uncharacteristic habit for someone like him but he valued hygiene. He undid his weapon's belt, gently placing it on the chair along with the rest of his clothes. He glanced at the tub, having already been filled by one of the cabin boys who already knew of his post battle routine.

A soft sigh left his lips when he dipped himself into the warm water, his eyes closing as the tension finally left his body, relaxing his head against the cushioned headrest. He could feel himself drift off, stuck in that place where the mortal and the dream realm blended together to a point where he was unsure of his reality. A place where his dark fantasies could be lived.

He could already imagine a pair of soft, wet hands slide over his shoulders, kneading away the tension with expert fingers and sensually spreading over chest to the point he could feel a low stir in his neither regions.

Strange, he thought, enticing a soft moan from his lips. But the sound was caught off when a pair of warm lips touched his own, a tongue parting them open. His eyes flew open, suddenly meeting a pair of bright pink orbs.

Sitting in his tub with an equally pink tail curled underneath it was a creature he hadn't seen since when he last saw Captain Andrea.

A merman.

First chapter! ^.^ What do you think?