Author's Note
This story is retelling of "
The Adventure of Sir Percivale" - but I added a
Black Sails and
Merlin twist to it. Basically, I used the
Merlin version of Percival (without the "e" at the end) and crossed that over with
Black Sails.
Why?
Because Tom Hopper, who played Percival in
Merlin, plays Billy Bones in
Black Sails. So, for the purposes of this storytelling, he's an Immortal (this is explained at the end of my story) who has outlived Arthur and all the Knights of the Round Table, and he's just kinda drifting and then he becomes a pirate, because hey? Why not? You'll also see in the story a mix of him calling himself Percival and Billy, this is intentional and is supposed to demonstrate the sort of identity crisis (which is probably too strong a word, more like minor turmoil) he's going through.
If you're not familiar with
Black Sails, just imagine Sir Percival as a pirate and there you go. Or, you could just look at the picture at the end of this note.
Billy's captain from
Black Sails, Captain Flint, is featured, but you don't really need to know much beyond him using Billy to squash a mutiny (this is all in the very first episode). The name of Flint's ship is
The Walrus.
Sidebar: I recommend Black Sails if you like pirates and such, but trigger warning for sexual assault in the 2nd (maybe 3rd?) episode.
Anyway! A summation of "The Adventure of Sir Percivale" is featured
here if you want to know ahead of time. I feature some of it in the story through flashbacks.
-z-
Sometimes, Percival dreams of drowning and a lion’s roar in
the distance.
-
“Oh, Sir Percival,” a woman's voice, soft and light as air, warm as
the sun, whispers.
-x-
Billy wakes up in a cold sweat, heart thudding in his chest as
he struggles to remember the year, which language he was supposed to be
speaking, and which faces around him he was supposed to know.
“Nightmares?”
Billy looks up from where he’s been staring at the ocean
sliding smooth around the bow of The
Walrus and sees Flint.
Flint who is strong and steady in the secrets he keeps tucked in close.
“Yeah,” Billy answers.
Flint stares, as if he were waiting for Billy to continue. (Maybe he was waiting for Billy to ask if
Flint had had his own nightmares.)
But Billy turns away, looks back at the ocean. It’s still dark – the full moon sitting low on
the horizon, setting; they’re still a while from sunrise, but Billy knows he’ll
get no more sleep tonight.
-x-
(Sometimes, Percival dreams of drowning and a lion’s roar in
the distance.)
“What are you doing here?”
Percival can’t see her face, but her voice still wraps
around him like a thick blanket – soothing.
“Nothing,” he answers.
He thinks he adds something else, but he’s can’t remember.
“If you promise me a favor,” the voice says, “I’ll lend you a
horse from my own stable – and he’ll take you where you wish you to go.”
“Yes,” Percival says.
-x-
“We have no kings here,” Billy says, holding his knife to
Flint’s neck.
“I am you king,”
Flint snaps.
Billy wants to laugh in his face – wants to tell Flint that
even if he had been of royal blood, that Billy’d never serve him. He wants to tell him that he’s served a
true king (once, a long, long time ago) and that he was something that
Flint could never hope to achieve. But there’s a whistle from The Walrus – calling them back in from
the dingy, to see to the unrest aboard.
-
Flint’s covered in a dying man’s (traitor’s) blood and he’s
holding his hand out to Billy, a slip of paper between his fingers.
For a sharp, split second – Billy remembers Arthur, now long
dead and gone, bloody and wounded holding a hand out and Billy is suddenly Percival
again and he sways forward, Latin words of allegiance and devotion on his lips –
before he remembers himself.
Because Arthur never lied to him – never told him they were chasing
after one thing, when they were actually after another. Arthur, the greatest of Kings, who had wept
when the Knights of the Round Table had planned to go after
the Grail because he had known it would mean their deaths.
Billy feels his stomach turn as he unfolds the paper – sees that
it’s blank but for blood. Flint wasn’t
Arthur. Could never hope to be.
Flint’s watching him, careful and assessing, and for one more second,
Billy thinks about telling the truth.
“It’s the missing page,” he says instead.
Flint, still dripping in blood not his own, smirks.
And Billy thinks to himself,
I’m getting too old for these games.
-x-
(Sometimes, Percival dreams of drowning and a lion’s roar in
the distance.)
He dreams of a voice, warm and soft and gentle as a breeze,
and a stallion, black and beautiful and fast as a gale.
Sometimes, when Percival isn’t
Percival he thinks the dreams are memories – but, honestly, he’s
been on this earth too long to tell the difference.
Just old dreams mixing with new nightmares.
When he dreams of that voice and that stallion –
sometimes the stallion drowns him, sometimes he doesn’t. But, every time, a lion – mane huge and
frightful – comes to him.
The lion curls around Percival, growling deep in his throat. And a warmth spreads through him – seeps from
his skin down to his muscles and to his bones – filling him.
And, after that night, Percival does not die.
-x-
“I’m going to make you the princes of the new world!” Flint shouts. Then he looks over at Billy and, for the
first in a long, long time, Billy longs for his chainmail and helm – wanting to
hide his regret and his shame behind something metal.
(But his armor has long since been hidden, sequestered away
in a tomb half a world away.)
And not for the first time he wonders what Arthur and the
others would think about the men he’s killed – of all the ships and all the gold he’s taken
in the name of his captain and his shipmates.
Billy turns away from Flint and the roar of the crew,
clutching the blank-but-for-the-blood scrap of paper.
That night, when Billy dreams of drowning and a lion’s
roar in the distance, he knows that it’s time to move on, to leave Flint to his
secrets and his plots. And when that
opportunity comes, he takes it – lets himself jump into the ocean and be swept
away, chasing after that roar.
-
When Percival washes up on a beach, the roar in his head is
quiet.
“Hello, old friend.”
Percival opens his eyes, blinking against the sun – and sees
Merlin.
-z-
End.
-z-
