Gods and Monsters
Author: abernaith
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean (post-AWE)
Pairing: none so far
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to its rightful owners. I am just a fan.
Summary: Post-AWE. Everyone is off on their own merry, and not-so-merry, adventures. Calypso thinks things aren't exciting enough, so she stirs the pot and brings back everyone's favorite ex-Commodore.
Notes: This is the prologue to what I hope will be a story focused on three not-quite-mortal men and a lady Pirate King. This will definitely be following Jack's adventure as he hunts for Agua Vida, the Fountain of Youth, but things are more complicated now with Calypso on the loose.
What did it take to walk in the wake of legends?
What deity, law or element should bend,
That life appended break a fated curse?
Thus the mighty fear; such hand that ill amend
would cause the world to run reverse.
PROLOGUE
In the Absence, there was the first breath. And with it, came life and light and consciousness.
The man that was once named James Norrington awoke.
"Where am I?" were his first words, and they echoed oddly in the Void, rising in a crescendo that extended off a space boundless, endless.
His first movement was to lift a hand, gone pale, slightly translucent. He looked at it for a second--an infinite time--and frowned.
"I suppose this is death," he said, and sighed. A waste of breath, though in the air there lingered a sadness that was not of the Absence. And to that, a Voice responded.
"James," it called. And the ex-Commodore recognized it. Recognized her.
"Tia Dalma," he hissed.
The Voice laughed. "No, no, no, you mistake me for a woman, luv. On the contrary, I am a goddess. Calypso, you may call me."
"Calypso, then," James amended. "And what brings you here?"
"Is that the way to talk to your savior? Your patron?"
James arched an eyebrow, but then he felt silly for it, having no one to direct the full effect of the irony he felt upon.
"You need not ask now, and I don't want to explain further anyway. There will be time; I will be sure that we shall meet again. For now, all you have to know is that you live, and live because of me."
"Where am I, anyway?"
"At the End of the World," replied Calypso. "Where else?" And here she cackled; the mad witch that spun the wheel of stories, the black mistress of the enchanted swamp.
James had only heard about her, in parts from Sparrow's crew, and then a bit more in hushed whispers from Davy Jones' creatures. Before that cursed Jack Sparrow came to Port Royal and ruined his life, he had never believed any of these fairytales. But then he lived them, he certainly died because of one, and was even now talking to a disembodied goddess--stuff he was sure no sane man would ever dream to encounter.
There was a strange howling noise. If James didn't know better, it sounded like a huge seastorm somewhere beyond the horizon. He sniffed the air delicately; it even smelled like a storm. He stuck his tongue and caught the tang of salt that a gust of wind brought to his face. Yes, it even tasted like a storm. And as the noise grew louder, James knew that it was coming his way.
When the rain came, it almost blew him off his feet. Soon, the main body of the storm arrived, and the torrents were like curtains draping his vision in grey. James had been a seaman since boyhood, and he knew skies as well as waters, but never did he experience such a surreal downpour. It was as if a whole ocean of water was falling on him. After a while, it felt like drowning. And then it occured to James, as his arms waded desperately in a parody of swimming and his body of its own accord buoyed up as the water acquired depth and mass, that he really was underwater, and quickly running out of air. The darkness was absolute by then, no light to guide, no surface for light to penetrate.
When finally his eyes closed, only one thought occupied his mind, 'This would have been more effective if I didn't know that I was already dead.'