Work Text:
Ready the sails, hoist the anchor
Chart our course, face the horizon and
Take me to the edge of the world
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Slow down, Channie. Hojin had his wrists gently pinned to the mattress, face inches from his. We’ve got all the time in the world.
His mouth begged for contact, tongue darting out like he was parched. He whined lightly, tossing his head to the side when he didn’t get what he wanted. Wet kisses descended onto his neck, leaving a trail of heat behind. Every touch burned wonderfully but only spurred on his desperation. He squirmed in an attempt to meet the thigh between his. The older sank teeth into the center of his throat, aligning their cocks. His body fell limp, pleasure overtaking his mind. Hojin moved a hand down his leg, hooking one over the crest of his hip. They rolled against each other with unbridled desire. Electricity was coursing through his veins.
You’re so beautiful, reverberated along his skin, I live for these moments. I live for you, Channie.
An ache flared in his jaw, yanking him from the haven his conscience had retreated to. His head snapped to the right at the next blow. He licked the blood off his lips, spitting it onto the ground. There was already a pool forming beneath his left boot from the gash above his knee. His arms were twisted behind his back painfully by the navy sailors flanking him. They were the only reason he was still on his feet, though. He swayed slightly, earning laughter from the crowd of officers before him.
Take a good long look, men, one of them sneered, at the infamous Grey Eyed pirate. You’re nothing but a boy -- a mere child -- playing make-believe that he’s a man. You may think you’re a hero, but you’ll die alone like a stray dog. You’re not a threat, you’re a nuisance.
If that were the case, he stared them down evenly, then the navy wouldn’t have sent an armada after me. Now would they?
Just as he had suspected, his response earned him a cut across his already swollen cheek.
I wouldn’t be talking back if I were you, scum.
Why not? He flashed a half smile in response to the vain warning. You’re going to kill me anyway.
One of the sea men grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back harshly. He grit his teeth at the sharp blade that dragged slowly along his throat, blood pulsing nervously.
Your death will be excruciating.
The pressure increased, and he could feel the sword digging into his skin. A higher-ranking officer rolled his eyes, pushing the edge away.
That’s enough, commander. He ordered. We’ve wasted enough time and energy on this. Send him and this tainted vessel to the bottom of the ocean.
Yes, sir. Reluctantly, the sword was sheathed.
His body slammed against what was left of the main mast, the wood coarse and rough against his raw back. The remnants of his shirt were scattered along the ground, torn from him before he was held to the deck and whipped like a filthy criminal. He supposed that in a way, he was -- especially in the eye of the crown. His skin was sticky from the stripes of scarlet that marred his muscles. There were chains wrapping around his ankles and clamping onto his wrists. A heavy one was pulled taut across his neck and another at his waist. For good measure, a cannon was locked onto the ends of them all.
Send our regards to Davy Jones, kid. One of them snickered.
He already struggled to breathe with the constriction on his esophagus. His eyelids were heavy, body beginning to shut down from lack of blood and not enough air. A calloused hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to pay attention.
Such a waste, the captain in front of him tutted. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have to die at all. We could have made you into something great -- a weapon or a whore. Either would have fit you well but I would have preferred the latter. Quite a shame, really. Enjoy your trip, pirate.
He watched with labored breaths as the last navy man abandoned ship. There was nothing left to do but die. He leaned his head back, facing towards the last rays of light he would feel. They kissed his skin in a final blessing, the wind whispering prayers for his soul as the sea solemnly began his funeral march. He shut his eyes, feeling them spill over with tears -- but not for himself. He cried for Hojin and the life they wouldn’t be able to spend together.
The first cannon pierced the bow, just one of many. The ship howled in protest, shuddering with every relentless hit. They rocked haphazardly, vessel struggling to keep the roaring waters out. Clearly, he was the only one who had accepted their fate. As the levels beneath him cracked and crunched, the sea began to rise. Or, perhaps they were finally sinking. He tried his best to steady his heartbeat, but his survival instincts were fighting back. His body strained uselessly against the weights tying him down.
His waist was already submerged, and his chest was following quickly. Not that it would matter, but he took one last deep breath before he was engulfed. He could feel water poured onto his head.
It’s alright, Channie. Hojin assured, It’s just a little water. The older was smiling fondly as he drained a second pail of warm bathwater over his hair, combing it away from his face immediately. I’ll keep you safe, don’t be scared. There was a gentle laugh at his expense.
I’m not scared, he grumbled. I just wasn’t, you know, expecting that. He sent a pointed glare towards the other from inside the bathtub.
It’s okay if you are. There was a wet cloth running over him, strong hands carefully washing the salt from skin. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the unknown. Everyone is.
He weakly swatted at the older’s attempt to lather his curls. I can take care of myself.
I know you can, sweet boy. Hojin leaned down to give his forehead a light peck, You don’t have to, though, at least not on your own. Fingers brushed down the side of his neck. Just relax, Channie. Everything will be alright. The older was gently massaging his muscles, touch steady and rhythmic. You can sleep if you want. I’ll be right here when you wake up -- I'll always be.
His lungs burned, and he was completely numb. The pressure closed in on him, mind begging for relief and blood screaming for oxygen. The sun was merely a mirage leagues above him and the sky worlds away. He let his eyes fall shut as he reached the break point, letting the water flood his airway and darkness suffocate him.
Instantly, Minho’s conscience panicked, and he tried to free himself. As he started to feel the bed beneath him and the captain against him, the bond solidified, and he was pulled back into the living nightmare. It was like swallowing lava -- searing and so incredibly agonizing -- and then there was nothing.
At the sound of waves crashing onto the shore, he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he could breathe. The second was the ombre sky -- a brilliant gold morphing into a rich blue. He moved to sit up, pausing as he lifted a handful of sand towards his face. He watched, entranced, while the onyx grains ran through his fingers. He pushed himself up all the way, staring at the ice blue waves that rolled beautifully. Something akin to the sun was floating just above the horizon, outlining the silhouette of a woman.
Initially, he thought it was a statue built by the sea until she moved towards him. He forced himself to stand, muscles prepared for an escape, but mind completely enchanted. She was like the tide, graceful and powerful with each step. As she approached, he felt a new burst of sea breeze tousle his curls. Her dress swirled around her in the wind, hair flowing with the current. She stopped within ten feet of him, intently watching him. He didn’t dare break the silence, the steady sound of the ocean the only noise otherwise.
Minho was blown away by how breathtaking she was. The last glow of the sunset illuminated the ringlets cascading over her shoulders, giving her hair a golden hue to it. Her skin was pearly; flawless cheekbones sculpted like a piece of art. Her lips were plush and pouty, seemingly painted with rubies. He found it difficult to meet those large, lustrous eyes. Minho felt unworthy to look upon something so infinite and celestial. It reminded him of the first time he had seen Chan.
Silver irises pierced through him, sparkling like the stars emerging in the sky. As the moon appeared, the waters lit up a luminescent blue. He could see how blonde she truly was, to the point where it looked almost white. He knew it wasn’t, though, because her dress was. Both reflected the moonlight in a way that was nearly blinding but he was still unable to tear his gaze away.
Hello Chan , her voice was like a whistle -- pure in tone and haunting. How are you feeling?
Stronger. Was all he could muster.
That’s because you are. She was before him, reaching up towards him to place a palm on his jaw. Her touch felt familiar and comforting, as if they had met before. You are five years older, after all.
Five years? He looked at his own hands, fixated on the veins bulging along his arms -- muscles larger than he remembered. H-How is that possible? His leg was completely healed, no longer sensitive to holding his weight, and his back didn’t protest at every movement.
She tucked a loose curl behind his ear, balancing on her toes to be level with him. Time works differently here, my dear.
Where is “here?” He took another glance around him, feeling her eyes trained on him still, And who are you?
I am Calypso, precious one. She brought a second hand to his other cheek, staring at him with something comparable to awe -- like she had never seen another human before. This is my island. She tilted her head, peering up at him with curiosity. What do you think?
It’s...indescribable. The way she smiled was so enthralling, every feature simply divine. I've never seen a beach with black sand before.
Something flashed in her pupils, Minho thought it was a hint of sorrow. That is because you cannot find it in the land of the living.
His body stiffened, backing away abruptly. I am dead, then.
Yes and no, my darling so-- s-sailor. She looked more mature -- almost timeless -- with grief-stricken longing laced into her expression. You were but not anymore. You are now what you would have been had you lived.
Why bring me back? He flinched at the fingers brushing against his.
You are special, Chan. I see something in you that I have not in others. He let her lead him towards the water, dipping their feet into the vibrant tide as they walked along the shoreline. It takes a lot of courage to face death the way you have. You do not challenge it but accept your path. That is a feat not many men can do even in their golden years. I admire qualities such as those. You are incredibly honorable.
I learned it all from my father. She wiped his cheeks, drying his tears with a soft touch.
He taught you well. She smiled fondly.
Yes, he did. Do all who pass on come here?
Calypso stilled, looking melancholy with a sad smile. She knew perfectly well what he was asking. No, they don’t.
He frowned, mind racing with questions.
Incredible, she whispered, even in your death you continue to worry about others. All men should be as selfless and fearless as you. There is a reason I chose you.
Chose me...for what? It was his turn to tilt his head in confusion.
For my mission.
I, I, uh, I don’t understand.
There is an evil infecting my waters, driving fear into the hearts of those who love my oceans. Her eyes darkened to harsh shadows, rage swirling within them. I want it eliminated.
The royal navy? He guessed.
Yes, she grit, they hunt their own kind for sport and snuff out life wherever they sail. I need someone to put an end to it. I have granted you a second chance for this reason.
Why me? Surely, there was someone better than him.
I already told you, my dear. She looked amused. You are special. I don’t gift immortality to just anyone.
Without another word, she looked towards the horizon. The first rays of light were peaking above the line where the sky and sea met.
It is time for you to go back to your world. She sighed, forlornly. If you stay here any longer, you may not ever want to leave.
One moment, Calypso was drawing his face close to place a kiss on his forehead and the next he was breaking through the ocean’s surface. The clouds loomed above him ominously, rumbling in warning. Her last words echoed in his head.
Choose your crew wisely, Chan.
He swam towards a ship that was approaching. As soon as he landed on deck, he noticed that the tattered black flag hung at half-mast in mourning. Lightning crackled dangerously close. At the helm was a boy with shaky knees and wide eyes. Minho wasn’t an expert in the least bit but even he could tell Chan had stumbled upon a captainless crew. Based on the state of the boys around him, they were sailing away from a fight that had certainly claimed the lives of their most experienced members.
Wordlessly, he took the ship’s wheel and began shouting orders over the booming claps of thunder. When the blanket of darkness lit up with electricity, the heavens opened up. Pins and needles rained onto their skin and their bones rattled with every strike. With his guidance, the crew braved the storm raging around them. When the skies cleared, he was appointed captain.
The next memories flashed before him in a montage. There was cannon fire layered over terrified screams. The clang of weapons meeting in combat could hardly be heard over the painful wails from the fallen. The blood of his crew flowed freely over the deck boards while a sword sank to the hilt in the flesh of his chest. The stab ached but just barely. He blinked without emotion, watching the patch of blood blossom as it stained the fabric of his shirt.
With a single movement, he pulled the blade out before cutting down the perplexed man in front of him. The wound closed up, fading into a scar. A bullet passed through his neck and he didn’t even flinch as he gutted the nearest opponent. He stood, alone, in the dead silence. There were bodies strewn about from the bow to the stern. Ironically, a rainbow glittered in the sky.
Some time passed, and he stood near the docks, listening to an old storyteller recite the legends of the sea. If he was being honest, he was only there because the fire was warmer than the ally. He didn't understand why he couldn't book a room for the night without renting a woman. It pissed him off, but he would rather sleep in the street than with a prostitute. So, he would down a bottle of whiskey every evening to keep the cold away. It only partially worked but it was better than nothing.
He took another swig, welcoming the liquid fire that trailed down his throat. His head was cloudy, and he needed a drink of water. Still, he did his best to pay attention out of respect. It was quite amazing to hear about the song of the sirens, the myths about mermaids, and the tale of Davy Jones.
However, he struggled to visualize the events within the stories. The image of his young crew, laid out and slaughtered, was still freshly seared on the inside of his eyelids. They had been so lost, but they trusted him, and he couldn’t save a single one.
How cruel it was to not be able to die alongside them like a captain should. Instead, his body regenerated and healed on its own.
Some would probably envy his new ability, but he wasn’t sure he liked this “second chance.” He didn’t want to live forever if it meant watching crew after crew perish.
The guilt would only grow with time which he definitely had plenty of in his future. His immortality already felt more like a curse than a gift. He wondered if there was a way to give it back. Perhaps he could be with his parents if he did.
There is but one book that holds the secrets of the sea goddess and no one alive has ever laid eyes on it. The older man stated cryptically. The Curse of Calypso.
As if on cue, thunder bellowed in the distance. A child yelped before burrowing into their father’s chest. The weathered sailors hollered in response, quieting down when the elder began speaking again.
The tale goes like this:
Many moons ago, Calypso fell desperately in love with a mortal. Never before had she meddled with humans in such a way. To protect her identity, she appeared to him in the form of dreams, every night, and they became lovers. In their intimate moments, she would share secrets as would he.
However, he believed their affair only existed within his mind and he feared he would one day forget this beautiful maiden who came to him when the moon was high. So, he began transcribing each moment. The instant he woke up, he would begin writing every detail he could recall. The young goddess became careless, though.
The man realized she was far more than a fantasy when he discovered her to be still with him one morning. At his discovery, she would have to leave for good. He pleaded for her to come back but she could not. Before her permanent departure, she filled his mind with more knowledge and placed protection upon its pages. One final kiss and she was gone forever.
Minho could feel Chan's mind racing. This book could be the key to breaking free from this second life. He had to find it.
Excuse me, sir. He interjected, Whatever happened to that, uh, manuscript?
Well, boy, that's a whole 'nother tale for a whole 'nother time.
Oh please, sir, one of the kids begged. I'd love to hear more.
We could listen to your stories all night if you'd let us. Another one chimed.
That seemed to do the trick. He could visibly see the pride in the old man's eyes and he sat up a little straighter. Chan must not have listened too intently when he had originally lived the moment as the only words Minho caught were the Admiral's Archives. He would have to venture into the territory of the very men he was tasked to obliterate. He knew what he needed to do.
In the next scene, he stood on deck in a royal navy uniform watching the other sailors wave goodbye to their loved ones from the railings. At one point, he had been one of them searching for Hojin's face among the crowd. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was certainly a strange feeling to don the heavy coat and heinous colors again, but he had no choice.
At the sound of gunshots, the world changed. He was crouched behind a line of crates, peeking out to fire at the pirates who had boarded their vessel. While he would have preferred not to, he knew they would kill him in a heartbeat just because of his uniform regardless of his background. He did his best to only wound.
With all the grace of an injured bird, a boy tumbled into the space beside him. Originally, he thought him dead but the younger just sprang to his feet and dusted off his coat.
Hi, he was way too chipper for a fire fight. Can I hide here?
Only if you keep shooting.
Yessssir!
He rolled his eyes. The hyper bouncing would get old shortly.
What's your name? The other asked, fumbling with his musket.
Really? Right now? He huffed at the dopey grin facing him. It's Chris. He had enlisted under an alias. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself by registering under his real name -- he was supposed to be dead, after all. If he was going to infiltrate the royal navy archives and steal a book that couldn't be burned, he needed to fly way under the radar.
I'm Kunpimook. The younger laughed at the face he made. He wasn't sure where to even begin in regard to pronouncing it. You can just call me, Mook like everyone else though .
Minho couldn't believe how talkative this kid was. How had Chan not slapped him across the face? All the chatter would have made Minho lose focus, but not Chan. He was still hitting every target. Finally, the teen next to him began shooting.
He couldn't tell if he was hearing things, but it seemed like there was a strange echo that always came a beat late. Glancing over, he stifled a laugh. With each bullet, the other was making additional sound effects with his mouth. A few pew 's and bam 's following every shot. Minho could hear Chan's amusement, finding the younger's habit to be obnoxious but somewhat endearing.
Mook, huh? He chuckled, I think BamBam would suit you better.
Really? The kid beamed.
Yeah, he nodded, but you don't have to make extra noises. Guns make plenty of racket as it is.
Oh, yeah...S-sorry…
BamBam became pretty much glued to his side. Wherever he was, the younger seemed to appear. It wasn't long before the teen figured out he had an ulterior motive, though. When their vessel dropped anchor near the admiral's port, he decided that it was time to make his move. As he crossed the deck, he could clearly pick up the footsteps that were delayed by a millisecond. He whirled around, pistol raised, glaring mercilessly at BamBam underneath the minimal moonlight.
Quit following me. He growled in warning.
Where are you going?
Nowhere.
Obviously somewhere. I want to come with.
No, he said sternly. My whereabouts is not your concern so go back to bed, kid.
I can help you though…and don't call me "kid."
Sure thing, kid. I seriously doubt you could help.
What are you looking for?
None of your damn business.
Please, Chris. The younger had his hands folded like a child at prayer. I want to be-- I mean, I want to go with you.
Well unless you intend to swim after me, you're not coming.
C'mon, I know that you're looking for something and you think it's on that island. I have spent years studying the navy. I know almost every secret passageway and piece of history--
He clapped a hand over the other's mouth, getting nervous that the whiny tone would carry into the commander's quarters.
If I let you, will you shut the fuck up? He eyed the kid with uncertainty, afraid he'd wake someone else up.
Yes, a thousand times yes!
Quiet. He hissed, I haven't even decided yet. Tell me why I shouldn't just slit your throat and be on my way.
I-I, uh, I can lead you to the archives.
He quirked an eyebrow. What makes you think I want to go there?
The teenager finally had the decency to look ashamed. I, um, I saw the map you stole from the commander's room.
Oh, you mean the one I hid in the wall, three levels below the main deck? He challenged. A timid nod was his response. Minho could tell Chan was slightly impressed. He wasn’t sure the commander had even realized it was gone yet. What do you think it is I'm looking for?
A record, of some sort. The other frowned. I'm guessing you need to find someone?
I need to kill someone. He corrected, and soon. Minho found it comical, how wide the boy's eyes became. So far, all you've done is delay me, kid. You're in my way. Either convince me why I should bring you or I'll get rid of you -- for good.
I-I know there's a passage through the c-catacombs that will take us directly to the archives. In two days, the admiral will be on his way to meet with the crown in hopes to gain funding for an expedition he believes will put us ahead of the Spanish. He will be gone for several weeks an --
Alright, clam it. I don't care. He climbed into the lifeboat, You can come, but if you make too much noise, draw any attention, or slow me down -- I will kill you on the spot.
I understand, Chris. Minho had to commend the teen for not backing out, I promise I won't.
Good. Part of him felt a little bad for being so harsh and blunt, but he couldn’t sugar coat how dangerous it would be. I'll warn you now. If you fall behind, you get left behind.
That doesn't sound very honorable… well, I guess killing someone really isn't either. The younger was mumbling mindlessly to himself, standing on deck still. What about you? What happens if you die? What am I supposed to do then?
Trust me, that's not gonna happen. He assured. Now, get in.