Chapter Text
Act 1 Scene 2. The deck of a merchant ship, post-pirate invasion.
The battle has been fought, and now the pirates hold a trial of the defeated captain. The defeated crew are the witnesses, the pirates the jury. However, this trial is a little different from usual, as captain Hornigold has made the "whimsical" decision to also hear an account from the one of human cargo: an enslaved African brought up to top deck. A pirate who speaks the same language translates for him.
Tamba/Translator: We can't move a muscle, time becomes meaningless as we lie immobile in the endless dark. We're packed so tight, constantly victim to the heat and the cold. The man next to me, Rufaro, died, and I lay next to his corpse for days. Worst of all, we have been taken from our homes, all we have ever known, with no hope of returning. It's like death.... at night, the sailors come for the women.
A murmur from the sailors: some dissent but mostly laughter. They know they're not on trial here. Tamba looks up at Hornigold.
Tamba/Translator: Are you going to set us free?
Hornigold seems taken aback by the question. He pauses, considering, and grins.
Hornigold: Plead your case.
"Excellent!" Ed called from offstage "Great work all of you. Now notes: Taurayi, can you slow down a bit more when you're speaking your lines? James, can you and David move forward a bit so you're more visible. That's all for today, I need you to have scenes 3-4 memorised by Monday."
The actors filed out along the aisles, chatting and comparing notes. Ed packed up and went to meet Stede.
They met at their usual spot on the beach. Stede took Ed in his arms and kissed him.
"How's the play?" he asked.
"Everyone's really game. I'm proud of how stuck in they're getting. Still trying to work out how to write that switch, where Tamba realises the pirates have every intention of selling their captives, and he's forced to argue for himself, to join the crew."
"You're amazing Ed, to think, it's been less than a year since I introduced you to the likes of Shakespeare and Webster, and now you have your own little dramatic career."
"I am amazing. How was your day?
"Alright. I had to keep some of the children behind because they wouldn't keep quiet. I know it's necessary, but I always feel a bit guilty." Ed rubbed his arm sympathetically.
Stede's tone brightened "I had an idea of something we could do tonight."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I've bought you a new outfit. I want to see you dressed up, looking lovely while you serve me."
Ed flushed, and he looked away, but he was smiling.
"Yes Sir." He said meekly.
When they got home, the article was revealed: an ornate red muslin peshwaz, brilliant with tinsel and sequins (a kind of gown, with an open front and long sleeves; it tied around the waist, and went from the neck to the heels), and a deep blue velvet scarf, shining with gold foil stars.
"I'm not Indian."
Stede looked at him, surprised, he had clearly been expecting a more enthusiastic response.
"I know, but I saw it, and I thought it was a beautiful item, and that you'd look beautiful in it."
"You thought I'd look beautiful?"
"And I thought the colours would look lovely against your skin."
Ed felt his stomach flip unpleasantly, something seemed off.
But it is such a beautiful garment, and Stede was so kind to buy it for you.
He pulled on the loose trousers, pushed his arms through the heavy sleeves, wrapped the blue scarf around his head. Stede tied the gown at the front, and wound his arm around Ed's waist.
"So pretty Ed, I never want to stop looking at you." He carded his hand through Ed's hair, gripping close to the scalp. He pulled his head back and forcefully pushed his lips to his.
"You're mine." Ed felt a chill in his arms, a whisper of discomfort, but as he allowed himself to succumb, the voice became quieter and quieter.
Night passed. Day came.
The sun shone through the curtains of their little room. Stede yawned and snuggled into Ed's side. Ed was staring up at the ceiling. He felt sick. The soft touches of last night had been transformed in the light of the morning into something altogether more violent. Panic seized his chest, and he gripped Stede to him, trying to press away the horrible sensation.
"Stede" he shook his boyfriend gently "I don't know what's going on. I don't feel right."
Stede's eyes shot open, and he stared at him in concern. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know, just stay with me."
They stayed together, holding each other tight until Ed began to feel a bit calmer.
Act 3 Scene 2. In the depths of the ship, Tamba speaks to their translator, alone.
Tamba:
Ed stared down at the paper, trying and failing to form words.
What's happening to me?
Tamba:
I don't know what to write. What would they talk about? Would the translator advise him to join piracy? Would they collaborate and try and find a way to escape? How would the translator respond if Tamba proposed that?
Tamba:
Everything seemed so stupid suddenly, like he was pretending, playing at being a writer. He looked at the books surrounding his desk, some of which he'd chosen out, but many more that were Stede's suggestions. The desire to move came upon him, and he grabbed his coat from the wall.
Stede met him in the landing.
"Are you alright?" Concern written all over his face.
Ed took a deep breath.
"I think, I think I'm feeling a bit weird about what we did last night."
"Oh."
"I think I felt a little fetishised."
"Oh."
"That thing you said about my skin, and the whole Indian dress thing."
"I... I was trying to make you feel wanted, affirmed. You love it when I put you in women's clothes and call you pretty."
Why isn't he listening?
"Do you even respect me?" Ed challenged.
"Of course I do."
"Then why did you refer to my work as 'your little career'. Why won't you apologise to me now?" Ed's frustration was building.
"Because I don't feel like I should have to apologise. I bought you a nice dress, you didn't have to put it on. Why didn't you say anything?"
Why didn't I say anything?
"I don't know, I just, please, you hurt me, please can you say sorry, or at least acknowledge what I am telling you." Ed was begging now, it was so embarrassing.
"This is a huge reaction over something so tiny Ed; you need to control yourself." Stede said coldly.
Ed saw red. "How did your family make it's money again?"
Stede's eyes widened.
"How can you possibly respect me? What's the point of this? You're never going to take me seriously."
He stormed out.
Six drinks in, sitting in a booth in a dark and dingy bar, Ed allowed his vision to blur and unblur as he stared through tears.
Stede is supposed to be the love of my life, but who could take this? To be always viewed through a dark glass. To never be properly seen.
Blinking the room into focus, he fixed his gaze on the small round table in front of him: a candle light flickering, casting a double shadow onto the table. It illuminated his glass of rum, made it glow gold.
Rum. Sugar. You were a part of this. You were on that ship.
Shame sat heavy in his stomach. He snatched his glass and downed the lot, shuddering as it made it's way down his throat.
Clumsily, he rose to leave, his legs wobbling beneath him. He walked out into bright sunlight.
Overwhelmed by the sudden change, he groaned and bent his head, covering his eyes with his hands. Then he felt a bump.
"Sorry about that, are you alright?" The voice was familiar, Ed looked up into the friendly face of Fang.
"Fang!"
Ed found himself pulled into a welcome hug.
"How've you been Ed? It's so great to see you!"
"Shit" Ed slurred "I mean, mostly good, but right now: shit. How about you?"
Fang searched his face.
"You seem pissed."
Ed laughed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, I am a bit pissed."
"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Fang asked, gently.
"Not really, I mean I probably should go back and speak to Stede but..." he trailed off.
Fang connected the dots.
"It looks like you two have had a fight."
"Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you can't change their perception of you?"
Fang's eyes met his in understanding.
"We should talk. I'm going to be doing some gardening, you're welcome to come and help."
Ed nodded, and Fang took his hand, and soon they were wandering along a dirt path through rich green forest.
"You know Izzy and I are together?"
"Makes sense."
"At the beginning, it sometimes felt like what he wanted was for me to be this big, scary brute, someone who could force him, stop him saying no, make the whole thing easier for him."
Ed grimaced, remembering.
"I bet he did."
"The hardest part was getting him to acknowledge it" continued Fang. "It was so humiliating and frustrating, begging someone who doesn't always see you as an equal to please listen, please hear your point of view."
Ed's eyes filled with tears.
"That's how I feel with Stede at the moment. How are you two still together?"
"Because he did acknowledge it, and listen, and apologise. He did and still does the work to get better. I had to do the same with him."
They emerged into the open, and Ed found himself looking at a charming, quaint little house: one-storey, whitewash walls striped with wooden beams, surrounded on all sides by a well kept-garden.
Fang approached a relatively sparse patch of earth, sank to his knees, and pulled on thick leather gardening gloves.
Ed joined him.
"When Izzy lost his leg, I really took care of him. I liked taking care of him, and it's probably part of why we got together at first."
Fang paused, looking away in embarrassment.
"I used to do things for him without asking him, I used to patronise. It was mortifying when he brought it up."
Ed asked keenly, "How did you accept that you'd hurt Izzy? What made it possible?"
"I just didn't want to hurt him" Fang shrugged, "So I apologised and tried to do better."
Ed's face crumpled.
Why couldn't he do that for me?
Fang patted him on the back.
"It's not really up to you, it's not your work: it's his. You've you told him how you feel. It's up to him now, to show you what kind of man he is. All you can do is decide how to respond. Now put these on."
Fang handed him a pair of gloves, and set him to work. It was slow and steady: a patience game, quite a lot like fishing. He could never imagine doing this alone, for fun. But it was pleasant enough to listen to Fang chat about fruiting trees, climbing plants, complementary flowers.
Just as he was starting to relax, he saw a familiar figure in the corner of his vision. Looking more casual than Ed had ever seen in a loose shirt and breeches, Izzy was making his way towards the house. Ed's gaze wandered to his missing leg, and almost of their own accord, his eyes jumped away.
He tried to focus on listening to Fang's plans to build a little patio, keeping his eyes fixed on the dirt on front of him.
Why am I so nervous?
"Alright Edward?"
He lifted his head to see Izzy's grizzled face grinning down at him.
"Alright." He tried to match Izzy's grin, but something about it felt forced.
After a short exchange of pleasantries, Izzy went inside, and came out with some bread and some cold cuts. They moved to a little table, but when Ed tried to sit down, Fang wrenched him out of his seat.
"That's Izzy's chair." Ed looked down, the seat of the chair had little spikes carved into it.
"Did you carve that?" He asked Izzy.
"And some stocks that slide onto the arms." Izzy winked at him. Ed felt his face flush, his eyes dropping once again. Fang went and got another chair.
"So what brings you to our doorstep Edward?"
"Nothing much, just saw Fang and wanted to catch up."
"You sound a bit drunk."
"Hmmmm."
Izzy's face broke into a wide smile.
"Awww, have you and Stede had a falling out?"
"Izzy, can you be a bit nicer to our guest please?"
"Yeah, try not to look so pleased about it."
"I'm sorry." Izzy held his hands up. "Old habits and that. So what's the story?"
Ed paused, not wanting to give Izzy the satisfaction.
"You know it was kind of racist Izzy, how you put me in this box of aggressive, domineering savage, all because you couldn't cope with your feelings for me. Your very own Barbary corsair, to own you and control you. "
Izzy's held his gaze "Yes it was. I am sorry about that Ed."
They stared at each other, then Ed looked away.
"Is that what your argument with Stede was about?"
Fang lay a gentle hand on Izzy's shoulder.
"Izzy, can you change the subject, I don't think Ed wants to talk about that."
"It's fine, yes, that was what we were arguing about."
"Ah, funny, I'd always assumed you were the one getting docked in that relationship."
"Me too to be honest" Fang admitted "Although, it's not really much of an assumption when you hear it every night."
"Actually, we take turns."
"Good lad", Izzy raised his glass.
There was a heat between them, Ed's eyes didn't see to want to lift.
"You're really having trouble looking at me, aren't you? Is it the leg?"
"Yes."
"You know why don't you?"
"I do. I'm ashamed."
"What are you ashamed of?"
"Well, it was my fault, and I am sorry, but I'm also ashamed that I can't look at you properly."
Ed forced his gaze to Izzy's.
"Mhmm, well, you're looking at me now."
The feeling was something that Ed didn't want to name.
"Seems that you can look at me. Just as it seems that I can manage my feelings of attraction towards you, without repression or denial." Izzy quirked an eyebrow at him, a challenge.
Ed looked at Fang.
"Are you okay with him saying that?"
Fang nodded, "Our relationship probably has slightly different rules to yours and Ed's. I am feeling jealous right now, but I trust him, and I can manage it."
Ed stood up.
"I think I've probably left Stede waiting long enough."
"Do you need us to walk you home?" asked Fang.
"No" Ed shook his head. "I think I need some time to think."
So he walked home, as the sun set, until he reached that familiar door. He took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
"Hello?" he called out.
Stede emerged from the living room, looking tense.
"Hello."
"....."
"......"
"I've been out, met Fang outside the tavern, weird coincidence, I know, but he's actually settled in the neighborhood, with Izzy, and they're a couple, they have this sweet little house, with a pretty garden, and Fang's really into gardening now...." Ed rushed his words out, knowing that if he stopped, they'd have to talk about it, and if they talked about it, he might have to leave.
Stede's eyes flickered at the mention of Izzy.
"I see."
Ed steeled himself.
"What... uh... what have your thoughts been... about earlier."
Stede took a deep, shaky breath.
"I never want to make you feel like I don't respect you. Can you please tell me what made you feel that way?"
Ed felt himself relax the tiniest bit.
"It was a few things.....I felt a bit patronised when you said "your little career". When you showed me that outfit, it made me wonder if you saw in me, and wanted me to perform, a kind of exotic otherness"
Stede averted his eyes.
"Then you dismissed my feelings, and told me you thought the colour would "look good against my skin". When I tried to share my feelings this morning, you told me to "calm down", told me my reaction was disproportionate. It made me wonder if you see me as lesser, more emotional. It made me wonder if there were any way I could possibly make you understand."
"I'm sorry" Stede reached hesitantly towards him. "You must have felt really frustrated." Ed melted into his arms.
"I'm sorry I talked about "your little career", it was patronising, I get it. I'm sorry I made you feel fetishised. I'm so sorry that I shut you down when you tried to tell me how you felt. I didn't want to acknowledge to you or to myself that race could play a part in how I see you, because I'm frightened of being not good enough for you, and I'm frightened of you leaving me."
"I'm not leaving." Ed reassured him.
"You did leave!" Stede's voice broke "I thought we were past all that."
"I'm sorry I walked out, but it felt like there was no way I could get you to hear me."
"I know; I'm sorry."
They stayed like that, wound tight around each other.
"It feels like" Ed pondered, "It feels like "co-captains" actually takes some work."