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While Stede usually cornered Lucius into doing the laborious task of keeping his journal, there were some thoughts that Stede thought were best kept to himself.
Not many, of course, but some.
When burdened with such thoughts, Stede liked to burrow away in his library; he draws the curtains closed and nestles in a corner with his favorite quill and a small candle for light. Prior, it was the only real time he ever got to be alone. No one bothered him with quandaries in the dead of night and he was left to wax poetic to his heart’s content.
The problem was, recently, Stede had acquired somewhat of a roommate.
Ed had become an increasingly constant present aboard the ship, and even more increasingly common among Stede’s quarters. He slept on Stede’s couch, he welcomed himself to Stede’s trinkets, and he was, evidently, a major insomniac.
This was, of course, no problem for Stede usually. Being quite the heavy sleeper himself, what the dread pirate Blackbeard did in the wee hours of the morning did not oft concern him.
Until recently. The last few nights, after their excursion on St. Augustine, Ed had been more… noticeable. It seemed every time Stede turned, Ed was there. At first, Stede thought it was simply Ed finally becoming comfortable aboard the Revenge but he knew this was something different.
Something more complicated.
Something worth journaling about.
Stede attempted to be as quick as possible, tucking himself into his library corner and drawing the curtains. Ed’s raucous laughter could be heard up on the deck, so Stede was confident he had some time before his cabin mate returned.
He set to his journal, hoping to decipher these complicated feelings that had arisen.
—
Many thought Stede Bonnet an oblivious man, and in some ways they would be right. He was terrible at knowing when he was being lied to, and quite often found himself upsetting people without intending to. But Stede Bonnet was not an idiot, and he was hardly as oblivious as his crew assumed he was. He sees more than he lets on, especially in the last few months with their special guests aboard.
He heard the whispers of both his crew and Ed’s, frantically shushed as soon as he or Ed entered a room. It was becoming increasingly clearer, and the only one truly oblivious to it was Ed. It seemed every time Stede was in the room with Ed, Ed did not notice anything else at all.
So no, Stede Bonnet was not oblivious.
He saw the way Ed smiled at him and no one else. He noticed the softness in his eyes. The countless times he felt Ed’s warm hand press a comforting squeeze into whatever part of Stede was closest. He saw. He knew.
He just hoped more than anything he was wrong.
It was not that Stede did not reciprocate, that could not be further from the truth. He felt things for Ed he did not think he would ever be able to feel for anyone. Ed made him want to abandon all decorum and pretense and do whatever their hearts desired. Ed made him excited, and reckless, and happy. Ed made Stede feel like he deserved all of it.
That was what scared him so. He did not deserve it. Stede’s life was never meant to include passion or impulse or even joy, really. He was meant to marry well, have children, and serve his family name. He was meant to be a lighthouse.
Ed had said that lighthouses were to be avoided. They served as warnings for sailors, to prevent them from “cracking up on the rocks”, as he put it. Perhaps Ed was more right than he thought. Perhaps Stede had always been a lighthouse. Warning those around him of the pain and suffering that came from being different, from daring to stray from your path.
Even as a child, people had known he was different. They chased and teased him because even then they could tell. He married Mary hoping that would fix things, but it didn’t. She knew too, though he was never sure to what extent. Every time he looked at her she liked him less until he wasn’t sure she could stand the sight of him at all. He was ruining her life as well. In his letter, he wrote that it would be better for everyone if he had left, but that was not true. The truth is that he did not consider them at all in his plans. Not once did he consider his children or his wife, for they hardly felt like his to begin with. He lost his family long before he bought this ship. He was just too much of a coward to admit it. So instead, little baby Bonnet abandoned his family for a life of piracy as though he was fit for it. It was the bravest, stupidest thing he had ever done.
And the worst part? He was fit for it.
Not at first, of course. The crew intended to mutiny him, and he accidentally murdered his childhood…friend? Acquaintance? Childhood tormentor. But he had the instinct for it, even if it took some honing. He took his lessons with Ed seriously, and had developed quite the rapport with his crew. He had become firmer, sterner; a real captain.
A real co-captain.
—
Stede was pulled out of his journal by a particularly loud crash from above. He paused, gently folding the book over his hand to protect the still wet ink, and looked up, listening for a moment. He heard a spattering of laughter and then, slowly, the discordant music of Frenchie’s thrice smashed lute filled the air once more. Stede smiled softly, shaking his head fondly as he returned to his journal.
He did not notice the door open gently.
—
Ed helped Stede so much. Thanks to him, Stede was finally able to call himself a real pirate.
But at what cost?
Ed lost his first mate because of Stede. Izzy Hands had been Ed’s closest friend and confidant for years and, in a matter of weeks, Stede had driven him out of Ed’s life. Izzy had been unhinged, but something in Stede could not ignore the validity of his claims. Stede was taming Ed and, while he loved each aspect of Edward he could uncover, he knew that it was not feasible. Oluwande had told Stede, on that fateful day before Stede changed the trajectory of his life forever, that not everyone gets to choose to be a pirate. Many are pirates because they have no other choice.
Ed’s ferocity, while terrifying, had kept him alive. It had kept him fed and (relatively) safe. It was not the kind Edward that cradled silk in the moonlight that kept him afloat; it was Blackbeard. And Stede could feel Blackbeard disappear more every day. It was terrifying.
Ed kept choosing him. Over the safety of his crew at the hands of the Spanish, over his right hand man, and Stede feared that, given the opportunity, Ed would choose Stede over himself.
The thought should bring him comfort. It does not.
It weighed heavy on him. It was eating away at his bones and it settled deep in the pit of his stomach. It was rotting him from the inside out. Yet another life, another legacy, he has diluted with his presence.
In a different life, perhaps this would not weigh on him so. A version of him and Ed unburdened by a married man’s regrets and shame. Perhaps they could have been happy.
But Stede has realized that life is not about being happy. Life is about duty, and Stede had neglected his. He does not deserve to be happy, not with the wreck of lives in his wake. His wife, his children, now Ed. Ships that did not heed the warning of the light house.
—
“You alright, mate?”
The question violently ripped Stede from his thoughts and he found himself slamming his journal on instinct. With a surprised little huff, his eyes settled on Ed’s silhouette in the spanning darkness of the cabin. His small candle was the only light source, making the small space of the nook feel even smaller.
“What?” Stede asked, still a little disoriented. He felt a creeping fear up his neck, hoping that Ed had not suddenly developed the ability to read minds in the last few days. That would make things rather complicated.
Ed let out a small chuckle, his lips twisting up into a small, lopsided smile, “You alright? You’ve been sitting in the dark scribbling away for hours.”
Stede felt blush spread from his chest to his ears and he stood up suddenly, holding his journal tight to his chest, “Ah! I was simply doing a bit of journaling. Introspection is a vital aspect to being an effective captain, as I’m sure you know, Edward.”
Stede stood awkwardly, much too quickly and much too stiff, and cleared his throat. He gave Ed a stiff nod before determinedly making his way to his wardrobe to tuck his journal away.
He felt Ed follow him after a few steps, with a much more casual gait. While Stede was fiddling around behind his nightgowns, fumbling for the secret lever that revealed a compartment where he kept his few private things, Ed stayed in the doorway. Stede could feel his eyes on him.
“You’ve never journaled before.”
It wasn’t a question, but Stede answered anyway, “I journal everyday Ed. Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed!” Stede tried to punctuate his little joke with a smile, but it did not meet his eyes. He turned his attention back to the closet in quick embarrassment, growing increasingly frustrated with his lack of light.
There was a beat before Ed said, “Lucius writes for you though. Never seen you write in one yourself.”
Stede huffed, the impact of which making the flame flicker in the more than dim room, as he finally found the lever. He pulled it, glancing over at Ed quickly only to find his steady gaze still on him.
Stede looked away quickly.
“Yes well… you would be right. But I was struck with inspiration and the boy was already asleep. It would be quite rude to wake him, of course,” Stede tucked the journal away, closing the compartment once more. He stepped away, wiping his hands nervously on his night dress. He gave Ed a small, unconvincing smile with too wide eyes, “Are you ready for bed? I’m tuckered out.”
Ed’s eyebrows furrowed silently and Stede fought the urge to crumple under his gaze, instead opting to make a beeline out of the closet.
He was stopped by a warm, ring riddled hand on his upper arm.
Stede did not face Ed. He couldn’t. Ed saw right through him, as though he were transparent. His guilt could not handle Ed’s knowing face in this moment.
For a moment, Ed did not say anything. He simply pressed his callused fingers gently into the silk of his dress. Stede felt like he would burst into flame.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, but you don’t have to lie to me either,” came Ed’s gentle tone. A tone reserved for only Stede.
Stede melted immediately. Despite his active attempts to maintain the defensive, he felt his shoulders slouch and a tension release in his back he did not realize he had been holding. He let out a deep sigh, something soft and warm dissipating in his gut. Relief.
“It’s not a secret, Ed. It’s just…Personal.”
Ed nodded, giving Stede’s arm a gently rub and then squeeze before releasing him, “Yeah. I get it. But I’m uh—” Ed shrugged, now averting his eyes, “here. Y’know if you…”
He trailed off, and Stede felt himself smile despite himself. It was his turn to reach out for Ed, taking his wrist gently with his freehand and squeezing, “Thank you, Ed. Perhaps another time.”
Ed nodded, taking the lace trim of Stede’s sleeve between his fingers so that it trailed through them as Stede retracted his arm. He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to Stede, “Let’s get to bed then.”
Ed walked Stede to his bed, giving him a nod before plopping himself down onto Stede’s couch, propping his feet on the armrest. Stede blew out the candle before settling down himself, the silence of the room resulting in a creeping anxiety trailing up his neck. He couldn’t help but feel like Ed was waiting for him to say something, do something. Ed knew Stede was acting strange, and Stede was desperate for normalcy, even if he wasn’t sure what normal was anymore.
He cleared his throat and spoke, voice drenched with unsure tone, “Thank you, Ed,” Stede said with much too much genuine affection, trying to compensate quickly with, “For making me a better pirate.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Stede could feel the awkward delivery revealing too much of his anxieties and fear. When Ed did not respond initially, Stede thought he had ruined it. That things were about to boil over in a bad way.
Then Ed spoke.
“Yeah well,” he said, and then much softer, “You make me a better man. Evens out.”
Stede rolled over promptly before he said something ridiculous like “You were always a good man” or “I love you like I need you to breathe”. Instead he closed his eyes tightly, trying his hardest to believe Ed.
That he was making him a better person.
Because Stede was not sure he was capable of such, but if Ed thought he was then maybe it was worth trying to believe.