Hunger Games
Dec. 19th, 2009 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fairieloreCharacters: Cutler Beckett, Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Davy Jones,
Pairings: Beckett/Elizabeth, Beckett/Jack, Beckett/Will, Beckett/Jones, Elizabeth/Jack,
Rating: PG-13
Comment fic : Cutler Beckett/Elizabeth Swann, starving
Word Count: 2, 478
Hunger Games
On their first encounter it was almost plain to see the hunger for stability in her eyes, and he found it comical that she expected to find that in marriage. But those fiery eyes set ablaze every reality other then the one she wanted to see. But they quickly lost their spark upon the verdict of absolution, but that clinged onto the slightest bit of hope at the name that represented the very thing she believed she had, which had now been taken away. Jack Sparrow was synonymous with freedom no matter whose lips they were spoken from.
Their second encounter she believed to be on her terms, and most men would not cross a woman spurred by revenge. But he was not most men, as she would soon find out from their little conversation. Her warnings were admirable, and her attempt to scout for information were thrown back in her face. There was disbelief at the mention of Jack, as only he could expect from a woman about to be married. But it was as thin as the wedding veil she had worn. Like a hungry predator who had lured in his prey and whose patience was run its course, a strong hand grasping her arm and tugging her into a rough kiss. Soon, a strong body would be up against the wall, the rawness hidden in the soul seeping out. And then, a dominating hand pushed the body away, a vivid distaste adorning pale features. “Negotiations always work better if you load the gun. Not everyone is as adept with words as our dear acquaintance Jack. Goodnight, Ms. Swann.” Sharp footsteps grow quieter and quieter and the letters of marque seem to have little value compared to the seed that has been planted in her core.
The first budding sprouts were the renewal of her sense of impulsiveness, sailing out to find the one thing that simply exuded freedom and had the answer to everything. The matter of whether the answer was true or not did not matter to her. She would herself believing anything to escape the lingering feeling of shackles on her arms. Her eyes light up at seeing the compass, same as the mention of a mythical art. She feels more attune with the supernatural then reality.
“It points to the thing you want most in this world.”
Her face betrays every bit of happiness she feels. Jack, blessed Jack always has an answer. She seeks to find the heart of a man who no longer has one.
A broken compass crookedly darts away from North, off the course she wants it to be on and seems to do her no good that she is the compass for a man who has no path. And talks of marriage are the only means she has of warding off the one man who has bound himself to a ship. But even that seems to do little to dispel him, and chilling words echo through her head.
“You will come over to my side, I know it.” The words reassure her, the denial that had blossomed is wilting away leaves the cracked petals of doubt.
“You seem very certain.” Perhaps he would divulge his secret to his ever radiating confidence as her own wanes.
“One word, love: curiosity. You long for freedom. You long to do what you want to do because you want it. To act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day, you won't be able to resist.”
But the more he spoke of freedom the more she spoke of valour and courage, the less he seemed to exude the wild ferocity he known for. Just like the trump card had been played on her she was playing it back, and the decency in his heart that had been trapped away shone through. But she would find no interest in a man whose only resistance to passion was the good in his heart.
It was her unfortunate fragmented part of her that searched for redemption that led to thoughts of innocent, but carnal relations and the conclusion of the only decisive way to exterminate them. And this same act is proof of her worth, which had been discounted so easily.
“I always knew you were a good man.” The words are ones he wants to hear and the fact that they come out all too easily leaves him unprepared for the calculating but remorseless act.
“Pirate.” He brands her with the one thing she cannot be, and the smirk does not betray the coldness underneath. The broken eyes of her fiancée have little effect on her despite the fact she has committed the two vilest crimes: murder and adultery. But the latter act is not with the man he thinks it to be, but it is the only reasonable conclusion.
The death of her father startles her and she wonders if he had unwittingly become a pawn of this game or that her acts have somehow displeased him.
Their third encounter she does not see him, but she can feel the presence in the air as a caged bird and a cunning fox engage in negotiations. Unknowingly her two acts – the murder and revival of Jack Sparrow are not her bargaining chips but Cutler’s.
“You can keep Barbossa, the belligerent homunculus and his friend with the wooden eye both, and Turner...especially Turner. The rest go with me aboard the Pearl, and I will lead you to Shipwreck Cove, where I will hand you the pirates and you will not hand me to Jones. Bloody fair deal, don't you think?” Beckett listens patiently but the clockwork of his mind means he is already two steps ahead.
“And what becomes of Miss Swann?” There is perfect neutrality in his tone, not betraying his little punch line just yet.
“What interest is she to you?” The glisten in his eyes divulges what Beckett already knows.
The all knowing smirk that appears on his lips reveals the dark, ugly truth behind the motivations of the only person he had found to be untameable. He has been disqualified from candidacy for the title.
“Jack! I've just recalled, I have this wonderful compass which points to whatever I want. So for what do I need you?” Now that his game has been played it is time to put away the pieces in their place.
“It points to what you want most, and that's not the Brethren Court, is it?” A smile so easily dances across lips that are still tainted with poison.
“Then what is?” He calls the bluff, because it is the only thing he can do. Whether Jack finds the truth or another scenario benefits him regardless. A little bit of pride is little price to pay now.
“Me -- dead.” The realization frightens him more then anything, perhaps more then meeting the captain of the Dutchman again. He’s not sure which of the alternatives are better, as it’s like picking the lesser of two poisons. And both would kill him, as he quickly finds out by finding a pistol pointed at him.
There is another tug of war for her captivity, one that she settles on her own terms, her own pride dictating her to take charge.
The ship rattles and shakes from the incoming cannon fire and he surmises that the meager handshake is perhaps the last instance of physical contact between them. The black sails move farther and farther away and he is powerless to catch them. But he knows a caged bird can only fly from one side of the bars to another.
But there is another pawn in this plot who seeks to try and get in on the game. But like a pawn his only leverage is to sell out the stronger pieces. But the farther he traverses into the white plains to be promoted the farther he is from his Queen. But the King of the ship has an answer for him, so mutually beneficial that he does see how well he is being played. A King is but fragile and the promise of immortality and power will win him a heart and those of the fair Queen. The tainted lips press onto ones even more so, for the blissful delirium has long set in and he begins to wonder whether the King is playing solitarily to achieve what he so desires.
The Queen - a position that she has become all too accustomed to, the death of a gallant knight a necessary move to further her strategic ploys and she doesn’t check to see whether he adorned black or white. The only thing she must see is red.
A King and two pawns convene in decrepit, mossy walls.
A hearty laugh escape the lips of a creature who is all too lost in the shuffle of the sea of men’s motivations. “Come to join my crew again, Master Turner?”
“Not yours, his. Jack Sparrow sends his regards.” The words slip out all too easily and Beckett can’t help but wonder if he’d attained this characteristic from the dear bird or the predatory cat.
“Sparrow?” The sudden illumination of this fact surprises him, and he seems even more out of the loop then he believed.
“You've not told him? We rescued Jack from the locker along with the Black Pearl.”
“What else have you not told me?” Disbelieving eyes scan the other’s pale features - a lover’s quarrel on the world’s stage is the only thing he can seek out.
“There is an issue far more troublesome. I believe you are familiar with a person called Calypso.” Beckett knows how to silence his little pet, the implications of the words sting deep. He is not the only one keeping hidden secrets of the past.
Sharp words come at a steep price as a little pawn will find out. But he has only concern for the lives of two people – his father and his Queen, and there is no price that is too large to attain those two things.
“What is it you want most?” A weak smile comes through the otherwise invulnerable cracks of the King’s face. The is coming near and he knows that it cannot, will not end in a stalemate.
The pool of players becomes smaller and smaller and every move is just as important as the next. A meeting of the major players bears out all the deceptions and the ploys, and only but one player is aware of them all. A white King clad in luxurious regalia leads the final negotiations.
“You made a deal with me, Jack, to deliver the pirates, and here they are. Don't be bashful, step up, claim your reward.” It is a freedom that he knows means little to the man, who had just as well relinquished his position of King. He believes his acts of chivalry will sway a woman whose interest in him has long flitted away. She is still just as oblivious to Jack’s true value to Beckett as Turner is to the inner workings of all the plans that have conspired. Elizabeth has little value to Cutler, even less so now that he has Jack. Even her little fiancé has granted him more amusement with his determined perseverance for his blind cause then her calculated acts have for hers.
“Advise your brethren, you can fight and all of you will die, or you can not fight in which case only most of you will die.” Cutler gets in the first word, setting the field for the final match.
But she had expected to lay down her arms and mark her, bind her, make her his with the wickedness he is known for. But such a treatment is only reserved for one person.
“You murdered my father.” This is her first opportunity to gauge the motivations of a man who can rationalize emotions.
“He chose his own fate.” The tone has the same substance of the one on that very cool Caribbean night, that one of disinterest and disapproval.
“And you have chosen yours. We will fight, and you will die.” She has to rely on the defense mechanism she had used all to often and is all to ingrained in her. If she cannot attain it then its fate is sealed.
“So be it.” The battle has been won, one way or the other.
Loyalty. It seems everyone’s priorities have shifted.
A marriage intervened is postponed no longer, not before any more conclusions can be made. And in the throes of battle she finds the passions to give a resounding yes. The sealing – the kiss is ravenous as they each seek a dominating force they cannot find in another. Like tasting a rare delicacy and craving more until the taste of anything else seems empty and bland. Their spirit starves for what their heart desires.
Davy Jones has nothing left but to give eternal servitude to the only man who seeks it from him. And that is enough reason to pierce the heart of a poor fool who has gotten by only for the fact that he is too easily manipulated.
Now the bird has to choose on whether to so rightfully take his prize or to give up the very thing that he had made his existence something different then a hollow shell. But he does not take it. He is not oblivious to the truth to her darkest desire while her husband is. The best he can now expect is to sit by her side for the ten years while she waits for her husband to come back to her on a sandy beach. Sitting, waiting, wishing to attain the one thing he cannot have, just as he has made another wait for him.
None of them will receive what they want, except perhaps Will, but he has created his own version of reality to replace the one he cannot have. The one they all pinned for the greatest fool will be the one who will live the happiest.
Two captains die in their elements - a fiery death and another suffocating under a lover’s grasp. But they have won in their own way. An ethereal creature lasts only as long as his story does and his time has finally come to an end, and a peaceful insanity he always wanted and all he deserves.
But Cutler Beckett has corrupted the very fabric of the soul’s of every set of lips that have touched his own. He has ensured that if he cannot have what he wants then neither can anyone else. And he knows all too well that a pack of hungry wolves will turn on themselves in time, ripping each other and themselves to shreds.
Let the games begin.
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Date: 2009-12-20 10:39 am (UTC)The chess metaphor was breathtaking!!! There are so many sentences I'd like to quote as favourites lol I really loved this a lot. Thank you. :)
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Date: 2009-12-20 03:31 pm (UTC)I'm glad that didn't fail. xDDD I didn't notice I had extensively used it until halfway through using it. I'm glad you like it. :]