Black Sails fic: The Tale of Jean D'Argent
Sep. 8th, 2016 10:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meridian_roseTitle: The Tale of Jean D'Argent
Fandom: Black Sails
Pairing/Characters: Miranda, Silver; implied relationships
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1227
Prompt: For the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo prompt "hurt comfort" and the dark bingo prompt "fever/delirium"
Summary: When Flint leaves a delirious Silver in her care, Miranda is equal to the task, even when it requires making up a bedtime story about Jean D'Argent and his companion Captain Stone.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. Hurt/comfort, fluff and hurt/comfort, bedtime story, tall tales, timeline what timeline, probably season one
Author Notes: In my first fic I had Silver help Miranda so I guess it was her turn to take care of him. This is not the ship/friendship I expected to hone in on and one of these days I hope to write Max, who I adore, as well as actual SilverFlint (or OT3) but this is not that fic – though I'm not sorry about the fic it is :)
Also @ AO3
"Sssh," Miranda soothed.
Silver blinked, bleary eyes focussed on her. "What – who are you?"
Miranda gave a small sigh. This would be the third time she'd explained. "I'm Miranda," she told him. "This is my house. You're safe here. I'm a close friend of Flint's."
He gave her a look of suspicion. "Where is he?"
"You know pirates," Miranda said wryly. "Slaves to time and tide. A prize that could not wait. And you too much a liability, but one he cared about enough to bring to me."
Her cottage, her bed, Flint knew what he was risking, revealing, asking of her. This one must be special.
Silver shifted against the pillows. "What?"
Miranda couldn't help but think what he wanted to ask was he left me behind? She gently lifted the bandaged arm. "You cut yourself and let the wound get infected. You're healing now but you were delirious. You had the crew worried."
Silver stared up at the ceiling. "I think maybe I – sang?"
Miranda laughed. "I'm told that you climbed up on a table and gave a rousing rendition of Pastime With Good Company but with your own, apparently rather risqué lyrics."
"I regret that I don’t remember that." He coughed.
"I'm sure your crewmates will tell you and taunt you about it when you see them again." She picked up a cup. "Here, drink."
Silver managed a few sips of water with her help. He protested when she took the cup away but Miranda was firm. A little at a time, lest he make himself sick.
"So rum is out of the question," he lamented, settling back down. Definitely on the mend. Miranda shook her head.
"If you eat something," she said, "I'll consider it. We'll try some broth in a while, once I'm sure you still remember who I am."
Silver narrowed his eyes. "I asked you that before?"
She nodded.
"Sorry." He gestured, to the situation as a whole. "This is quite the imposition."
She shrugged, picked up a damp cloth and wiped his face, smoothing back the tangled curls. "It's not so awful, having someone to take care of," she said, and he caught the melancholy she had failed to keep from her tone, sympathy flashing in his eyes. She forced a smile and changed the subject, talking about nothing and fussing over Silver.
He managed the rest of the cup of water and half a bowl of broth under her care.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked later, wiping her hands on yet another cloth. When he didn't answer she prompted, in case he was too embarrassed to mention it, "the chamber pot?"
He shook his head. "Not right now."
She bent over to pick up the bowl of water and his fingers fastened on her sleeve. She met his gaze and he swallowed, and now this looked like embarrassment.
"What is it?" she asked, keeping her tone soft.
"Where are you going?"
She hazarded a guess that he didn’t want to be left alone, in a strange house, still too weak to easily defend himself or make an escape. "Nowhere," she said. "I was only going to change the water. I've stayed with you this whole time. See." She pointed with her free hand to the book she'd been reading while she kept vigil.
Silver squinted at the cover, lips working as he made out the long title. "It sounds dull," he offered at last, releasing his grasp on her. "Otherwise I might have asked you to read it to me."
"I've read more exciting works," she agreed, taking her seat once more. "But perhaps I can come up with a story you'd like." Just until he fell back to sleep. He gave her a wide, endearing smile. Oh yes, she understood why Flint had fallen for this one, at least as far as appearances went.
After a moment's consideration Miranda said, "There once was a young naval officer," and Silver perked up with interest. Then she shook her head. "No, that's not only my story to tell, and James would kill me if I told it."
"Now I'm intrigued," Silver said, slyly adding, "and I probably wouldn't even remember it later."
Miranda ignored him, ferreting about in her head for something suitable. A bed-time story, a fairy tale…
"Once upon a time," she said, "there was a young boy. He had eyes as blue as sapphires, hair as dark as ebony," and she reached over to caress a long dark lock of hair, "and teeth as white as pearls. His name was…Jean D'Argent."
Silver smirked.
"He was charming and clever," Miranda went on. "But Jean was – an orphan, I think."
Silver didn't contradict her so she continued her tale.
"And he dreamt of finding treasure, enough money to build a large house and fill it with friends and pets and books, and to throw parties and never go hungry or be lonely ever again. So he learnt to read, and write, and to sail a ship. He scavenged for maps and eavesdropped on rumours and listened to any stories that mentioned gold. Then one day he found half of a map on a market stall and he purchased it with his last coin."
Silver scoffed. "I'd have just stolen it."
"Hmm. Well this young man had morals," Miranda said, mock scolding. "Anyway, what use was half a map? Jean compared it to every other map he had, even tried to sketch the other half. He tried everything he could think of to use the map to find the treasure. Then when he'd almost given up, Jean was in a tavern, staring at his map when a man strode up to him. This man was a sea captain."
"With auburn hair?" Silver muttered eyes half-closed now.
"Yes, with auburn hair," she agreed. "And the other half of the map. They made an agreement, to find the treasure together and split it, fifty-fifty. So off they went, Jean and Captain Stone. And they had many an adventure on the highs seas. They even saw mermaids."
She paused to assess her patient. Silver wouldn't stay awake much longer, so she began to wrap up the tale. "At last they found the treasure, and split it equally, and Stone went on his way, and Jean purchased a huge mansion. But Stone missed his companion, and Jean found he was still lonely in the midst of strangers who came to his parties for the food and not his friendship. Many months later, Jean was walking in his garden when he caught a glimpse of auburn hair. Stone had returned, with a woman in tow, and said, 'She is also my treasure,' and Jean said, 'And you will both be mine, and more precious than any gold to me.' And the three of them lived happily ever after."
A moment of silence. Silver, unable to open his eyes, nonetheless managed to ask, "Do you think that's possible in real life? A happy ending?"
Miranda blinked away tears. She leaned over to brush his lips against his forehead. "Sleep," she said, voice hoarse.
She took up her dull book and tried to focus on the dry facts, desperate to ignore her foolish heart which wanted her to believe in happy endings and secluded houses where three people could live in peace and comfort ever after.
Fandom: Black Sails
Pairing/Characters: Miranda, Silver; implied relationships
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1227
Prompt: For the
trope_bingo prompt "hurt comfort" and the dark bingo prompt "fever/delirium"Summary: When Flint leaves a delirious Silver in her care, Miranda is equal to the task, even when it requires making up a bedtime story about Jean D'Argent and his companion Captain Stone.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. Hurt/comfort, fluff and hurt/comfort, bedtime story, tall tales, timeline what timeline, probably season one
Author Notes: In my first fic I had Silver help Miranda so I guess it was her turn to take care of him. This is not the ship/friendship I expected to hone in on and one of these days I hope to write Max, who I adore, as well as actual SilverFlint (or OT3) but this is not that fic – though I'm not sorry about the fic it is :)
Also @ AO3
"Sssh," Miranda soothed.
Silver blinked, bleary eyes focussed on her. "What – who are you?"
Miranda gave a small sigh. This would be the third time she'd explained. "I'm Miranda," she told him. "This is my house. You're safe here. I'm a close friend of Flint's."
He gave her a look of suspicion. "Where is he?"
"You know pirates," Miranda said wryly. "Slaves to time and tide. A prize that could not wait. And you too much a liability, but one he cared about enough to bring to me."
Her cottage, her bed, Flint knew what he was risking, revealing, asking of her. This one must be special.
Silver shifted against the pillows. "What?"
Miranda couldn't help but think what he wanted to ask was he left me behind? She gently lifted the bandaged arm. "You cut yourself and let the wound get infected. You're healing now but you were delirious. You had the crew worried."
Silver stared up at the ceiling. "I think maybe I – sang?"
Miranda laughed. "I'm told that you climbed up on a table and gave a rousing rendition of Pastime With Good Company but with your own, apparently rather risqué lyrics."
"I regret that I don’t remember that." He coughed.
"I'm sure your crewmates will tell you and taunt you about it when you see them again." She picked up a cup. "Here, drink."
Silver managed a few sips of water with her help. He protested when she took the cup away but Miranda was firm. A little at a time, lest he make himself sick.
"So rum is out of the question," he lamented, settling back down. Definitely on the mend. Miranda shook her head.
"If you eat something," she said, "I'll consider it. We'll try some broth in a while, once I'm sure you still remember who I am."
Silver narrowed his eyes. "I asked you that before?"
She nodded.
"Sorry." He gestured, to the situation as a whole. "This is quite the imposition."
She shrugged, picked up a damp cloth and wiped his face, smoothing back the tangled curls. "It's not so awful, having someone to take care of," she said, and he caught the melancholy she had failed to keep from her tone, sympathy flashing in his eyes. She forced a smile and changed the subject, talking about nothing and fussing over Silver.
He managed the rest of the cup of water and half a bowl of broth under her care.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked later, wiping her hands on yet another cloth. When he didn't answer she prompted, in case he was too embarrassed to mention it, "the chamber pot?"
He shook his head. "Not right now."
She bent over to pick up the bowl of water and his fingers fastened on her sleeve. She met his gaze and he swallowed, and now this looked like embarrassment.
"What is it?" she asked, keeping her tone soft.
"Where are you going?"
She hazarded a guess that he didn’t want to be left alone, in a strange house, still too weak to easily defend himself or make an escape. "Nowhere," she said. "I was only going to change the water. I've stayed with you this whole time. See." She pointed with her free hand to the book she'd been reading while she kept vigil.
Silver squinted at the cover, lips working as he made out the long title. "It sounds dull," he offered at last, releasing his grasp on her. "Otherwise I might have asked you to read it to me."
"I've read more exciting works," she agreed, taking her seat once more. "But perhaps I can come up with a story you'd like." Just until he fell back to sleep. He gave her a wide, endearing smile. Oh yes, she understood why Flint had fallen for this one, at least as far as appearances went.
After a moment's consideration Miranda said, "There once was a young naval officer," and Silver perked up with interest. Then she shook her head. "No, that's not only my story to tell, and James would kill me if I told it."
"Now I'm intrigued," Silver said, slyly adding, "and I probably wouldn't even remember it later."
Miranda ignored him, ferreting about in her head for something suitable. A bed-time story, a fairy tale…
"Once upon a time," she said, "there was a young boy. He had eyes as blue as sapphires, hair as dark as ebony," and she reached over to caress a long dark lock of hair, "and teeth as white as pearls. His name was…Jean D'Argent."
Silver smirked.
"He was charming and clever," Miranda went on. "But Jean was – an orphan, I think."
Silver didn't contradict her so she continued her tale.
"And he dreamt of finding treasure, enough money to build a large house and fill it with friends and pets and books, and to throw parties and never go hungry or be lonely ever again. So he learnt to read, and write, and to sail a ship. He scavenged for maps and eavesdropped on rumours and listened to any stories that mentioned gold. Then one day he found half of a map on a market stall and he purchased it with his last coin."
Silver scoffed. "I'd have just stolen it."
"Hmm. Well this young man had morals," Miranda said, mock scolding. "Anyway, what use was half a map? Jean compared it to every other map he had, even tried to sketch the other half. He tried everything he could think of to use the map to find the treasure. Then when he'd almost given up, Jean was in a tavern, staring at his map when a man strode up to him. This man was a sea captain."
"With auburn hair?" Silver muttered eyes half-closed now.
"Yes, with auburn hair," she agreed. "And the other half of the map. They made an agreement, to find the treasure together and split it, fifty-fifty. So off they went, Jean and Captain Stone. And they had many an adventure on the highs seas. They even saw mermaids."
She paused to assess her patient. Silver wouldn't stay awake much longer, so she began to wrap up the tale. "At last they found the treasure, and split it equally, and Stone went on his way, and Jean purchased a huge mansion. But Stone missed his companion, and Jean found he was still lonely in the midst of strangers who came to his parties for the food and not his friendship. Many months later, Jean was walking in his garden when he caught a glimpse of auburn hair. Stone had returned, with a woman in tow, and said, 'She is also my treasure,' and Jean said, 'And you will both be mine, and more precious than any gold to me.' And the three of them lived happily ever after."
A moment of silence. Silver, unable to open his eyes, nonetheless managed to ask, "Do you think that's possible in real life? A happy ending?"
Miranda blinked away tears. She leaned over to brush his lips against his forehead. "Sleep," she said, voice hoarse.
She took up her dull book and tried to focus on the dry facts, desperate to ignore her foolish heart which wanted her to believe in happy endings and secluded houses where three people could live in peace and comfort ever after.
