A modern girl in a 19th century world (robes_of_earth) wrote in piratechallenge,
A modern girl in a 19th century world

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Challenge eight

Title: The Devil and Davy Jones

Author: Penny-Elizabeth

Pairing/Characters: Davy Jones/The Woman.

Word Count: 622

Rating: PG13

Summary: A short drabbly thing theorising in the mind of a man lost to his heart.

Disclaimer: Davy Jones belongs to the ages, but I suppose a really good lawyer would say this sounds like a certain Disney-owned stroy, so...credit to the mouse.

Spoilers: DMC. But if you ain't seen it yet... *sharpens sword*

Notes: It's 5am, my uterus is KILLING me, and my brain came up with this. It's occured ot me lately just how much Barbossa and Davy are alike- both are just men made black with what the world has down to them. There is a definate pattern of choices, desire, want, need and greed in these films and characters that I'll no doubt study sometime very soon when my very painful Curse of the Women's Bits has faded.

Special Thanks: To all those who've made me think of doing what Davy did, and those that made me glad I didn't... (ooh, deep!)

She reached around behind the nape of her neck and unfastened the catch- pulling the locket gently from her throat. She pushed it into his hands, the heart shape of it pressing against his fingers.

‘Keep it…” he said, resisting.

“I can’t- it’s your heart, and you’ve got to give it to someone else.”

He sighed heavily, a furrow creasing his brow.

“Please understand me Davy, it can’t be between us. I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“And what kind would that be?” he asked, thinking of the tiny silk pouch and it’s treasured ring in his pocket.

“The marrying kind…” she replied softly.

“I’d dote on yeh forever, ye know that.” He whispered, blinking hard in the setting sun.

“I do.” She said. ‘But it can’t come as a revelation to you that my heart belongs to another. It’s been my path for many years now, and the time has come where hidden truths must be paid attention to.”

Davy nodded. ‘I had hoped -against it all I suppose -that you could turn from it.”

She shook her head and sighed desperately. “Davy, you’re a good man- really. But I love him with more than I can give you, and it’s with him that my place now has to be. I’m sorry.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and stood up to leave. The tavern was quiet, smoke hung in the air from the fire burning low in the hearth. He watched her go- in less than 24 hours, she would enter the life of a nun, and in doing so leave behind the world she had lived in with him that past year. In the half-clear air of the room he hit upon a decision, inspired by her. Davy made the choice to enter religion himself- but he’d join the ranks of the other side.

He sat there for the remainder of the day, listless and angry at the world and it’s creator, binding his fingers with the chain from the locket and drinking away his gold. He burned inside, promising a piece of his soul to the Devil for every piece of coin he traded for drink- so that he and that fallen angel could sail as allies in fighting the one who’d taken so much from the both of them. He would sail to the ends of the earth and below, rounding up souls of anyone in front of him, putting them to service on his ship and forging an eternal truce between the reaper and himself.

A ship set sail that night, with a group of men who in one way or another could feel in the blow of the wind that this night was a turn of fortune’s wheel- whether up or down was in the measure of interpretation and the balance of superstition of the soul who observed. Their captain- Davy Jones -would cut out his heart soon into their voyage, lock it in a chest, and deny his soul to God. He already had hers, why ask for his as well? No, not he nor any who called them his crew would go to Him. Never.

Aside from his soul and the souls of however many others, there was one other thing that Davy Jones would keep- the locket. A cold trinket of a thing to remind of him of the curse of the hidden real one, and the sweet melody of never again feeling the twist of pain and the ache in his chest. No woman could hold his fortune again; he couldn’t offer what was locked away, and it would stay locked away. Nothing in the world that God could offer or the Devil could deliver was worth the turn of that iron key.

Now for the love of Calypso, can we slow it down a little? Any more speeding and I'll crash! :P
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