Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, only the AU is mine. Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, and everyone else belong to the BBC.
Author's note: I don't really know how long this will be, but it will probably be at least a another chapter before Merlin enters the story, and a couple chapters before anything happens between the boys. But it will happen, I promise!
Chapter 1 - The Dread Pirate
A furious wind filled the sails, occasionally sending them billowing, cracking, and filling again. A large group of men, most in long blue frock coats and white breaches, stood together on the main deck of the ship. They let the wind carry the ship as they listened to their captain yell down at them from the forecastle.
Captain Pendragon was one of the youngest men to ever captain a ship in the Royal Navy. As such, he was more than a little arrogant. His ego was inflated even more due to the attention he received for his attractiveness. When he returned home from his voyages, there was often a stack of letters from various ladies waiting for him, each proclaiming their undying affection for him. His only answer to these letters was always an expression of his regrets and a note about how the sea was his first and foremost love. Standing in his captain's uniform, golden hair clinging to his forehead from the salt spray of the sea and blue eyes reflecting the water, even his men could not deny his handsomeness. Despite these things, the men adored and respected their captain.
"Men, as some of you may know, we are embarking on a journey from which many of us may not return. There have been rumors of sightings of the Dread Pirate Emrys, known to some as the Black Dragon, and his ship, the Kilgharrah. We have been ordered to investigate these rumors and are therefore heading southwest to Puerto Magia in Puerto Rico, where the rumors were collected, to search for the pirate and his ship. We are to capture him alive, if possible, or kill him, if necessary. I expect that each of you will serve your country with bravery!" At that, the men let out a loud cheer. Many had joined the service for the opportunity of fighting and killing pirates. "Now, to your stations!"
With that, the men scattered. Captain Pendragon gave a series of orders to his first mate, Mister Percival, who in turn barked them to the crew. The captain then returned to his quarters.
In his cabin, Captain Pendragon poured over maps that were spread erratically on an elegant, round wooden table in the center of the room. His hat and frock coat had been tossed over a chair. A large, comfortable bed was pushed against the back wall, and candles were burning in lamps all over the room. It was easily the most luxurious room in the entire ship and it suited the confidence exuded by the young captain.
The maps the captain was staring at, and had been for hours, were those of various Caribbean and South American islands. The southern American continent seemed to be a favorite location of the Dread Pirate, as many bays, coves, and tiny islands that he had previously used as hideaways had been circled in red ink. The pirate had been chased before, having been reported at many ports throughout the years he had been active, but he had never once been even close to capture. Only a handful of times had Navy ships ever reported seeing the Kilgharrah personally. This frustrated the British Royal Navy immensely, and had caused them to send their young prodigy in hopes of capturing the menace once and for all.
Through the years, the Dread Pirate Emrys and his crew had attacked numerous prospering coastal British, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian cities, always clearing the riches from the largest houses, leaving those who were once thriving in total poverty. Many said that his ship, the Kilgharrah, was the fastest ship that ever sailed the seas. It was painted completely black, and flew black sails. In place of the typical skull and crossbones, the ship flew a black flag with a white dragon. No one knew the story behind the pirate or his ship, but plenty had been manufactured anyway. What he did with his treasure, only the captain and his crew knew. Captain Pendragon jumped a little at the sound of a sharp knock on his cabin door. "Come in," he shouted, but he didn't look up as his second mate entered the room.
"Arthur, you will tire yourself out before we even get to Puerto Magia if you stay up late looking at maps every night."
"Please, Mister Gwaine, call me Captain on this ship. We may have been friends as boys, but I hold a superior rank now. The other men will not respect me if they hear my own second mate call me by my first name! Even Percy calls me Captain..." Arthur sighed and sat down at one of the six chairs that sat around the table. Gwaine went to stand behind him, putting a friendly hand on the captain's shoulder.
"Alright, Captain Pendragon. Have you learnt anything new since you scoured these same maps last night?"
Arthur could hear the mockery in Gwaine's voice, but he ignored it. His reputation was on the line, and if he could find and capture the pirate, he would be known as a hero. If he failed, he would probably be demoted and serve the rest of his time in the Navy on a patrol ship.
"Well, tell me what else I can do, Gwaine!"
"How about this," Gwaine started, rolling up the maps on the table one by one, "put away the maps, get a good night's rest, and then see what we can find when we get to Puerto Magia. I know you will probably feel useless and idle until we get there, but you are no use to your crew if you are tired and out of sorts."
Arthur sighed again. He knew Gwaine was right. Gwaine, Percival, and some of the other men on the ship had been friends since they were much younger and had enlisted in the service together. Arthur, with his father's fortune and high ranking in the Navy, had been primed to be captain, and the others were happy to leave the responsibilities that came with it to him. He gratefully accepted their advice on matters, even with his somewhat inflated ego.
"You're right, of course you're right." Arthur stood and gripped his friend's shoulder. "You should get some rest as well, my friend."
"I'll leave you then. Goodnight, Captain."
Arthur smiled and nodded as the door closed. He decided he really would try to get some sleep. He pulled off what remained of his uniform and slipped into a night shift. As he lay in bed, no longer in his gold braid and buttons, no huge coat framing his well-muscled body, the captain looked quite small and quite young. The burdens of captainry had already begun to weaken him, and they would much more in time.
About six weeks had passed when the crew of HMS Albion found themselves nearing Puerto Magia. The men on the ship were filled with excitement at the prospect of shore leave after the long voyage. The officers had to keep reminding them to keep their focus on their work, but their warnings were not heeded long. Finally, as the ship approached the port, Captain Pendragon addressed his crew.
"I expect my men to remain civil while on shore leave. You will have today and tomorrow for your own pleasure, but the day after tomorrow you are expected to be at your post bright and early to shove off. You may leave in the morning as you please, but all crew members are to be back by the 11 o'clock curfew, no exceptions. If any of you are found deserting, the punishment is death. You will be rewarded if you return with information about the Black Dragon's whereabouts. Now, to your stations, let's bring her in easy!" The men scattered, taking their places, preparing to pull up against the port. They were mostly seasoned sailors, operating smoothly with practiced hands.
With the ship docked and the gangplank set, the men waited, jittering, for the final word of their captain. "Dismissed!" he cried, and the men raced for the plank, taking care not to fall into the water beneath them.
Arthur smirked after them. He knew what seamen and petty officers got up to on shore leave. And honestly, seeking pleasure at the whorehouses or getting drunk on crude ales had never much appealed to Arthur, in the same way that the women who professed their love in letters to him never had. He had a different purpose on shore leave.
The captain's trusted officers - Percival, Elyan, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon - had all stayed behind. They waited to receive instructions, as they shared the same mission as their captain. Arthur watched as the final men scurried onto solid ground before he turned to his finest officers, who also happened to have been his closest friends and advisors.
"You know why we are here, my friends. Find out what you can about our pirate friend. Do not outright search for information, you are much more clever than that. Use your senses and your stealth. Keep open ears and do your best to blend in." Arthur held out a sack of clothing to each man. &"These clothes will help you in that area. Be very careful. There are friends of pirates here and they will not take kindly to the intrusion of navy men on whatever peace they've managed to procure."
He nodded to them and they all left to their own quarters to change.
Later that night, Arthur found himself at a particularly loud and rowdy alehouse, slowly nursing a mug of cheap ale that he didn't much care for. His clothes itched and abraded his skin. They were not the fine cottons and silks he was used to, but he braved them for the sake of his mission. The cacophony of sound made it difficult to distinguish what anyone was saying, let alone to pick the keywords he was listening for from conversations.
Suddenly, a single, strange word drifted into his ears.
Warlock.
The Black Dragon went by many names. Warlock was a strange and obscure one, but when Arthur turned nonchalantly to search for the person whose lips it had left, he was certain they were talking about the Dread Pirate.
Two men, only three meters away from Arthur's own table, were leaning very close together and talking only loud enough to be heard by the other over the din. Or so they thought. They had tried to dress to fit in, but Arthur noticed the markings of a pirate immediately: the scruffy beards, the patched and unwashed clothes, the gold hoop in one ear, the cloth tied around the head. As Arthur honed in on their conversation, he realized that they had been talking about the dread pirate in code words all along, in a mix of English and the native Spanish. The words "Bahia de Diablo" were thrown between them a few times. Each time the words were said, it felt to Arthur as though other sounds were dulled; he sensed they held great importance, but he knew not why. Then the men looked around and caught the navy captain staring at them. Arthur tried to play it off, but the pirates had developed enough suspicion about him to move on from the alehouse. The captain sighed into his drink, looking somewhat forlorn that he had given himself away and lost his only lead. Then, a quite old man sat down across from him, a pint of ale in his hand. He was dark from time spent in the sun, and his skin was scarred from years of hard work. Beneath his leathery skin, strong muscles could be seen. He covered most of his body with light, loose-fitting clothes, and an ethereal feeling accompanied his movements.
He had a thick accent when he spoke, but it didn't sound like the same accent as those around him. "My friend, why you are looking so sad? This is a joyous place, much merry-making!"
Arthur stared at the man, debating what to tell him.
"Do you know any Spanish, my good man?"
"Spanish? Ahhh, Anhora know many languages, Spanish is but one of them! Why you are asking?"
"Well, um, Anhora, I seem to have picked up a few phrases here that I don't quite seem to understand. Do you think you can help me?"
Anhora furrowed his furry eyebrows for a brief moment before he broke into a huge smile. "Helping you! Very good, Anhora like very much helping friends! What seems to be giving you the trouble?"
As casually as possible, Arthur said, "There is one thing I heard. Do you know what...Bahia de Diablo means?"
The air around the men seemed to get thicker and the sounds seemed to muffle. The bright colors looked a touch less vivid. But only for a moment. Then, in a flash, everything returned to normal. Arthur looked around furiously. He didn't understand what had happened and nobody else seemed to notice. He was beginning to think he was going crazy when he looked to Anhora, who was wearing a grim expression, in stark contrast to his bright smile earlier
"There is being a dark power in those words, my friend. You have felt it. Bahia de Diablo, the Devil's Bay. It is being a place where evil spirits live, on the western tip of the island that is calling Virgin Gorda. Do not go there, my friend, not if you are valuing your life. Many men have tried to navigate the shallow waters and jutting rocks, in searching for the treasure and the glory, and all have failed. It is being a place of death."
Anhora's dark words struck fear into Arthur. He had felt the power those words held and instinctively knew to fear it. However, he couldn't understand out why he feared them, nor the place they named.
"Anhora, why is it that the Devil's Bay carries such fear, such evil?" Arthur took a few sips of his drink, finding himself to be surprisingly thirsty.
The old man smiled again, though not as brightly as before. "Some say it is being an old, dark magic that comes from the earth itself. Others say it is being superstition carried by old men, like Anhora. Anhora believes there is being a power in some words."
Magic.
The word echoed in Arthur's head. He had never believed in magic before, believing it to be the subject of fairy tales and the imagination of children, but having felt the dark power of the words - Bahia de Diablo - he could understand why someone else might. Still, he had his reservations.
"Magic...well, thank you very much for your assistance, Anhora. I must be going now. I hope we will meet again." Arthur stood and held out his hand to the old man.
"Yes, Arthur, I am hoping we are to be meeting in the future!" Anhora smiled and Arthur returned it.
As he was leaving, Arthur looked back at the man, but Anhora seemed to have disappeared. Arthur shrugged and continued on his way back to his beloved ship, HMS Albion.
It was only later, as he was falling asleep to the gentle rocking of the water, that Arthur realized he had never told the man his name.
The next morning, the captain shot out of bed, rushing to throw on his clothes. He kicked himself mentally for forgetting to tell his officers what had transpired the night before. What if I forgot? What would have happened then? We would have lost the only lead we have so far.
Arthur rushed onto the deck, calling his officers frantically. They followed him back to his cabin and sat around the huge circular table in the center of the room. After he described to them the previous night's events, withholding the part about the magic, the men seemed to realize that they now had a solid lead for the Dread Pirate's location.
"The waters are treacherous. You may think they are shallow, but in reality they are as deep as the pits of hell. You may think they are deep, but the sand is brushing your hull. There are rocks close to the surface that may seem to be thousands of meters below. There are rocks that tower high above the tallest mast of any ship. Bahia de Diablo, the Devil's Bay," Arthur said, pointing it out on a map of the Virgin Islands. A cold wind seemed to blow through the room, though the door and windows were all closed. Sound and color seemed muffled, as it had the night before, and the men shifted in their seats as the sensation passed.
The same sensation was felt by every man on HMS Albion the next morning, as Captain Arthur Pendragon repeated the new destination of the doomed ship to his crew.
