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In the months following his slow row back to The Revenge - alone - Ed had plenty of time to think. And in this time, he'd come to build up an idea of how his reunion with Stede would go.
At first it had been hopeful, all apologies and kisses and sweet nothings as everyone around them clapped and cheered. Soon enough, that fairytale was replaced with something darker, the idea that Stede was never coming back at all - he'd abandoned him, and that was that. Sometimes, Ed wondered if he'd died, and he'd be overcome with grief - and guilt. Then his thoughts turned darker still - Stede would come back for him, grovelling apologies and declarations of love but Blackbeard would strike him down without a single word spoken.
It was those latter thoughts that stayed with him the most these days, the ones that felt most true to reality. His anger and his grief had consumed him, transformed him into this cruel, vicious animal. The old Blackbeard had never been like this, that much was clear enough from the way the crew eyed him, Izzy in particular, keeping as wide a berth as he could without calling his loyalty to his Captain into question. He could see the fear in their eyes and he told himself he revelled in it, but that wasn't the reality of it, not at all.
He dreamed of their reunion, of plunging his sword into Stede's chest, aiming true before the other man could adjust his stance to avoid the worst bits. Thoughts swirled of holding him underwater until the bubbles stopped, setting him and his fancy clothes alight, slicing up that pretty face. After every dream he woke up to the sound of his own howling sobs, praying to a god he didn't believe in, begging that the reality wouldn't match his worst nightmares. He knew what he had to do, someday, but the idea of it chilled him to his core, even when the voices in his head told him it was the only way he could be free of the torment that plagued his soul. The weakness that held him back and would never let him know peace. He'd balked the first time, fingers itching as he held the blade behind Stede's back as he reveled in the Fuckery. Next time he wouldn't be so cowardly.
So when Stede had arrived to board The Revenge, well, looking like that, Ed didn't know what to do. In all of his wildest fantasies, he hadn't considered it, couldn't have dreamed up the Stede that stood before him at the edge of the deck, followed shortly by his usual crew of rag-tag lackeys.
"Don't like your beard," Blackbeard scoffed defiantly as the other man approached.
Stede paused mid-step, casting him a curious, slightly amused glance. "Oh?"
"Nah. Doesn't suit your face. Looks weird."
Was this really how he chose to greet the man who had broken his heart? After all of his fantasising and mental planning, all of the witty retorts and biting words he'd rehearsed in his mind, this is what his brain chose to supply in the crucial moment?
Stede hummed to himself thoughtfully, running a hand gently through the growing hairs protruding from his chin, as though re-familiarising himself with the weight of it.
"Yeah," Ed reiterated, as though saying it over and over would make it true. "Looks weird. And scruffy. Not nice at all."
A knowing smile spread across Stede's face. "Ah, I see." He straightened his posture, continuing to stride forward across the ship towards Ed, maintaining a leisurely pace as though he had all of the time in the world. "I thought it perhaps made me look rather dashing."
"Dashing? No. No. Definitely not." Ed found himself turning away suddenly. He was losing control, losing grip of the situation. He hadn't expected it to go like this, all of his carefully practised lines about 'vengeance' and 'getting what you deserve' floating far from his mind. Taking a brief moment to try and compose himself, he turned back around and sneered at the other man, putting on his best impression of a monster. "Hate it. Hate you."
"Hmm. That's what I thought," Stede smirked in satisfaction, coming to a halt a metre or so before the other man, hands resting on his hips.
Ed took a moment to look him up and down - he hoped it looked like he was sizing him up with disdain, but he didn't expect that was likely how it was coming across, and at this stage he'd more or less given up the pretense of being big and scary. Because really, how the fuck was he supposed to deal with this?
The well-trimmed, but otherwise fairly full beard Stede was sporting had been a surprise. As was the lack of finery - gone were the soft pastels, the smooth linens and ruffles. Stede instead stood in a pair of loose brown slacks, a flowy white shirt rolled up at the sleeves (he could almost swear it was the same one Ed had last seen him in), a pair of scuffed, knee-high brown boots, a small bit of finery reflected in the blue ribbons lacing them to his feet tightly and finished with neat bows. There was a gun in a holster at his side and a knife strapped to his other leg. His hair was longer, almost long enough to tie back now, the loose curls falling around the pirates' face in a way that still somehow looked effortless, although it was clear to Ed the 'do didn't involve the careful morning routine of the past. And tucked into one of the front pockets of his slacks, billowing on the breeze, a strip of deep red silk that Ed would recognise anywhere. It looked no different to the day he'd discarded it, watching silently as it floated away on the wind, never to be seen again, or so he'd thought. What were the chances?
Stede must have caught him looking at it, gawking, he suspected, because he ran a hand down to his side, fingers stroking the fabric with reverence. "Ah, yes, funny story, this! I found it washed up on the shore of the island where you abandoned this lot. It rather reminded me of you, so I kept it."
"It's mine," Ed hissed, surging forward with a gloved hand outstretched. "Give it back."
Stede tilted his head to one side in amusement. When did he get so cool and collected? "Ah-ah-ah! Finders keepers." He took a sidewards step away from Ed, hand moving down to hover over the hilt of his sword.
Ed could hear Izzy squawking something in the background but he paid him no mind, neither did Stede, so no change there at least.
"Fuck you," Ed spat, for lack of anything of actual substance to say. "You fuckin' left me."
"And you marooned my crew and threw all of my possessions into the ocean." Stede countered haughtily. "We've both done things we regret."
"I don't regret a damn-"
"You're not welcome on this ship, Bonnet!" Izzy spat as he stormed across to Stede, his incessant whining growing louder as Ed rolled his eyes. God, the guy just didn't know when to shut up.
"Hands, if you don't cease your yapping I'll cut out your damn tongue," Stede goddamn growled, swiping his sword through the air and pointing it at the man without breaking Ed's gaze. Presumably it had the desired effect, because his First Mate was now blessedly silent. "Thank you," he replied to the silent man, returning his sword to its sheath.
Who the fuck was this man? Ed wondered. He certainly wasn't the one he'd waited for on the beach. But he supposed he wasn't the Ed he used to be either. They'd both changed, it seemed. Ed found himself surprised by that. He hadn't really considered the idea that Stede would come back different in any way. Either physically or…spiritually. Stede was trotting about like he owned the place, which…well, Ed supposed he did, but when he thought back to their previous adventures on The Revenge together, Stede had acted as though he was uncomfortable in a leadership position. Every move was careful, considered, almost nervous, as though he feared how people would react to his orders. He was a loud, boisterous man when he wanted to be, but he carried himself like someone who believed he was always an inconvenience, letting his crew run rampant as a result. And Ed had enjoyed that, for the most part, but this man, this man stalking the decks of the Revenge with a lightness in his step that hadn't been there before, this was a Captain.
"So, Edward," the man began conversationally as though he hadn't just brandished a sword at his First Mate's throat just moments ago.
"It's Blackbeard," Ed spat, literally, by the other man's feet. Still a gentleman it seemed, because Stede upturned his lip at the motion. "You lost your 'Ed' privileges when you left me on that fucking pier, mate."
"That's fair enough," Stede acknowledged with a nod. "Well, Blackbeard, then." He took a confident step forward, brandishing his sword. "I challenge you to a duel."
He heard gasps from the other side of the ship, presumably the crew. This was fucking crazy. So he laughed, a low rumble in his belly, more cruel than amused. "What the fuck are you challenging me for? Shouldn't it be the other way round? I should cut your fucking head off."
"You commandeered my ship. I'd like it back."
Ed laughed bitterly. "Finders keepers. You said so yourself."
Stede paused to think on that for a moment, lowering his sword for a split second as he considered his earlier choice of words. So Blackbeard took the opportunity for what it was - weakness. He surged forward with intent, but was startled when the other man's sword met his in a swift defensive motion. He hadn't taught him that.
There was an undeniable twinkle in the other man's eye, something like a smirk crossing his gaze, partly shielded by all of the thick facial hair. It hadn't even been that long, how had he managed to grow something so bushy in just a few months? Even his own beard had barely grown back yet.
"Well then, I suppose I could challenge you for marooning my crew. For attempting to kill Lucius. Honestly, that one almost ended up being a bit unforgivable."
Blackbeard faltered, but kept his grip on his weapon firm. "Attempting? What?"
Stede's brow furrowed in obvious confusion. "Did you…did you not see him climb onto the ship with the others?" He gestured to the crew, including a very undeniably alive, and absolutely seething Lucius. He couldn't tell Stede he'd hardly glanced at the crew since they'd arrived with him. How he'd only had eyes for one man, the man who stood before him brandishing a sword and demanding they duel.
So instead of reacting to his words, instead of saying how relieved he was to hear that the boy was alive, he charged forward with a shout, his blade crashing into the other man's, a man who moved with unexpected fluidity.
"So you're accepting the duel then?" Stede asked jovially. "Would you not prefer to establish the terms before we begin?" A quick arm darted back and forth, dodging Ed's hits. He was a little sloppy in places still, not quite the perfect swordsman, but his form had improved considerably. His defensive technique was impressive. But he hadn't landed a hit on Ed yet, hadn't even tried to.
"I only want you dead," Ed hissed as he continued to take swipes at the pirate, every hit failing to land. He wasn't trying to incapacitate the man, not yet, but he at least wanted to get a good slice in, draw a bit of blood, leave that flowing white shirt stained with red.
"That's your only term?" Stede asked. "Seems rather paltry in comparison to the extensive list I have."
He almost got a stab in then, almost, while Stede prattled on, but he darted to the side just in time, so all he did was cut a small bit of fabric in the billowing shirt sleeve, barely a nick. His blade hadn't even connected to the skin.
"Get it out then," Ed groaned, just as Stede used his blade to push him back, putting some distance between them.
"First off, I'd like my ship back. I know you claimed finders keepers rights and that's fair, but I'd like it back nonetheless. I've grown rather attached to it, and I'm to understand you still have your own ship anyway, so it only seems fair."
Ed shrugged his shoulders and made a show of rolling his eyes dramatically. "Whatever. Next."
Stede smiled far too warmly for the circumstances. "Secondly, you owe my crew, especially Lucius, an apology. I can't promise you they'll accept it, and they may need some time coming around, but that's for you to figure out. I understand you were upset and given the circumstances, I understand completely your need to react, but they did nothing wrong. This is between us."
Ed made the mistake of glancing across to the crew as they lingered nervously at the side of the ship, a range of expressions on their faces. Mostly anger, more than anything, a deep seething rage on a number of their faces, with others only looking mildly irritated. Some of them looked sad, looking at Ed with pity. That made something ugly and uncomfortable churn in his gut, so he turned back to his opponent and nodded wordlessly.
"Thirdly, I expect you and your crew to help me conduct a number of raids to recoup some of the losses the ship has taken on; essential supplies, gunpowder and the like, but also a few of the more personal items I've been told you kindly donated to the seabed, like books. If anything, it's a good opportunity for us to spruce the place up a bit, it did need a bit of a refresh!" There was that boundless enthusiasm he'd missed, like an over excited puppy. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he spoke, and ignored the litany of groans that came from his crew.
"Anything else?" Ed drawled, pacing like a big cat, coiled up and agitated. The need to fight was still pulsating through him, his body ramped up and jittery with nowhere for the energy to go.
"Oh, yes, the most important one," Stede took a step closer, causing Ed to halt his prowling and freeze on the spot. "I would like you to allow me to apologise, and explain everything to you. I don't expect you to forgive me, in fact, it's not an essential part of the deal - I won't take your autonomy away from you. But I think you owe it to me to at least hear me out."
The man glanced down to his feet, somewhat sheepishly. "I've made a terrible fool of myself, Ed, and I let you down. I can hardly describe just how sorry I am, but I'd like to try." His head darted up, hands raised quickly, causing Ed to instinctively grip his sword-holding hand tighter. "But if you choose not to forgive me, that's fine! I would, in that instance, kindly request that you gather your things and leave the ship by first light. I think that seems fair, don't you?"
Ed stared. He stared and stared and stared, watching as the man's expression softened when he spoke his name (he decided not to correct him this time around), how pleading hands reached out, as though they were calling him closer. He remained where he stood, rigid and unmoving. He tried to recall the words he'd practised in his head, the ones that decried apologies and instead screamed for blood and terror, but once again they were nowhere to be found. All his mind could say was no, no, no-
"Yes. Yeah, that seems fair I guess."
His own vocal chords betraying him yet again, Ed cursed himself for his lack of willpower. But even so, that curiosity, that need for closure of some kind nicked away at his insides, chipping away at the thick coating of flint surrounding his heart. He wanted to know why. He needed to know. Didn't he deserve at least that?
"Do you have any further terms to add to your request?"
Ed shook his head. "Nah. Let's get on with it then."
"Very well," Stede stated plainly, before charging forward.
Ed had incorrectly assumed that Stede had been practising his defensive moves in their time apart, and nothing else, because it seemed clear that Stede had been practising…everything. Worse yet, he'd been holding back. He surged forward with a shout and Ed stumbled back with a cry, bringing his blade up before his face and pushing with all his might. He could hear cheers of 'Go Captain!' and 'That's it, Bonnet!' from the other side of the ship and ignored the deadly silence from his own crew. He didn't dare distract himself by looking for them, knowing he wouldn't like what he saw anyway. All loyalty he'd once built with them now lay in tatters.
Gripping the hilt of his sword and channeling all of his anger, his sadness, Ed pulled back and swooped down and around his competitor, using his good leg to take a jab at the back of Stede's knees, sending him jolting half-down. Hardly deterred by the motion, he regained his footing, following Ed as he retreated further into the centre of the ship - he didn't want the man trying any dirty tricks, recalling the sand he used in his fight with 'ol Izzy. No, Ed knew that even with his newfound skills, Ed had the experience, the stamina, and the dogged resolve to win this fight, so he'd remove all outside factors, gradually wear him down. It was just the two of them. Stede and Ed. Ed and Stede.
The world around them seemed to fade away, the shouts and jeers dissolving into the sound of the waves as they gently lapped against the edge of the ship. He could see Stede stood before him, his expression firm and determined. Stede was here, he was here and he was alive and Ed was going to cut and cut until there was nothing left of the Gentleman Pirate. But his eye caught onto that red strip of silk at the man's waist, the way his fingers flexed against the sword, then up again to pour over the resolve in his gaze and he felt weak at the knees. He couldn't allow this man to continue to take from him, he couldn't face the heartache all over again, but now he was here, promising an apology and an explanation, and all of Ed's carefully crafted stories and fantasies paled to nothing in the face of the truth.
And maybe this time, maybe if Ed asked him to stay, he would stay. His vision filled with bright memories, a hand on his shoulder, his head resting on Stede's hand in a darkened room lit only by candles, nimble fingers folding a piece of fabric to his lapel with reverence, soft eyes glowing in the moonlight. Could he really have this, after all?
Maybe he could-
He felt tentacles coiling around his ankles, reminding him exactly who he was and who he had become. He recalled waiting on the beach, his back pressed against the wooden pier as the sun grew low in the sky above him. In some ways, he never really left that pier - Ed was still there, still waiting for Stede to come for him. But Blackbeard was here.
He couldn't risk it. Couldn't go through it all over again. So with a sharp shout, he threw himself towards the man stood before him, his sword pointing ahead like a compass, aiming true.
It happened in a blur. He had to put it down to the tunnel vision he supposed, the way he stared at the man's torso, focused on driving his sword into one of the areas that he knew would do damage, somewhere that guaranteed no happy endings. But he'd not been paying attention, he hadn't adjusted his stance or kept his body loose, because when Stede darted to the side and sent him flying forward into nothing but empty air, he took a moment to reassess - a moment too long.
Stede charged into him with laser-sharp focus, clashing his sword over and over and over - Ed caught every rapid jab but he stumbled back, losing his footing and catching himself just in time before he fell - lucky, really, because now he was cornered - Stede brandishing a sword before him, and behind him, the endless expanse of the sea. He tapped his boot back, and yep, that was the unmistakable feeling of the edge of the ship. Nowhere to run.
"You shouldn't have come back," Ed groused through gritted teeth, feeling his breathing grow shallower as he considered his options. "You made your choice."
Stede shot him a thoughtful expression, the crinkles at the edges of his eyes soft and sweet.
"I've decided I'm done letting the world choose what Stede Bonnet gets to make of his life. For years I've been stuck in this endless cycle of doing what everyone expected of me, regardless of what I wanted."
As he spoke, Ed took the opening, darting forward again to meet the other man's blade - it was his only option to get away from the edge, after all. Undeterred, Stede continued to speak. "When I left you, I was continuing that cycle. But I've decided it's high time I just go ahead and take what I want."
"And what's that?" Ed growled as the Gentleman Pirate surged forward once again, the pressure of Stede's unexpected strength pushing into him as he tensed his arm under the weight of it.
"You, of course," he replied curtly, smiling sweetly as he kneed Ed right where it hurt, sending the man swearing to the floor amidst a round of jubilant cheers. He felt the familiar sensation of cool metal pressed against his skin, dangerously close to his jugular, a pinprick away from drawing blood. "We're pirates, Ed! I figured it was time I started acting like one. We fight for what we want, don't we?"
From his place huddled on the floor, Ed grimaced, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. The butterflies hammering against his ribcage threatened to burst out of him, skirting that delicious line between exhilaration and all-encompassing terror, a line Ed lived for, a feeling that always seemed to scream of Stede, Stede, Stede.
"Do you yield?" the man towering above him commanded, one brow raised, still looking ever the picture of an aristocrat, even without all of the fineries he normally paraded around the Revenge in. "I'd much prefer we talk about this without the use of weapons, this isn't really my style to be honest. Although I must say, I've learnt a thing or two since our practice sessions. Wouldn't you agree?" He had the absolute gall to wink.
No, Ed thought to himself once again, this really wasn't the Stede he'd foolishly kissed on the beach. This was a man who firmly stood in his own shoes with pride, someone who took what he wanted and to hell with anyone who got in his way. And fuck, Ed was hardly going to be the one to stop him. For all of his bravado, the kohl haphazardly strewn across his face, they wanted the same thing, in the end.
The Kraken sank under the simmering waves, nothing but bubbles left on the surface, and Ed hung his head before letting out the shaky breath he'd been holding in. "Alright," was his plain reply, taking the hand offered to him so he could rise to his feet. He suddenly found himself naked and exposed in the cold light of day, endless pairs of eyes watching his every move from the outskirts of the ship. He'd spent weeks sticking to the shadows, all hard lines and jagged edges. But now, on the open deck, his sword discarded on the ground by his feet, the Caribbean sun beating high in the sky, he felt Blackbeard starting to slip away as Ed clawed his way back to the surface. And Ed felt...ashamed.
"Shall we?" Stede asked, his voice hopeful and light, even with the undeniable hint of hesitation. He drew his arm out to gesture towards his cabin, their cabin really, now that Ed thought about it. He nodded again, and the other man hummed in approval, before they moved across the deck to the silence and solitude of the cabin, plentiful watchful eyes on them until the door finally closed.
Maybe a little bit of Blackbeard had slipped through the cracks and remained after all, because as soon as the door clicked shut Ed was on the other man with urgency, demanding his apology. Stede met him with equal measures of fervour, calloused fingertips grasping at his jaw to pull him closer before they moved to his shoulders, his hair, his waist, eventually pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it to the ground (so much for the Gentleman Pirate, Ed mused as the other man breathed hot and heavy into his neck, grazing teeth along the edge of his jugular and causing the deadly pirate to shiver).
"God, I missed you Ed," the other man whispered between reverent kisses. "I thought about you endlessly."
"You broke my fuckin' heart," Ed half sobbed, pushing himself off of the other man suddenly as the tears threatened to spill. The Kraken might have its own plans, but Ed, well, he wanted to know why.
Stede gulped, nodded, and moved to sit by the cabin window, patting the space beside him as Ed drew closer, carried by an overwhelming need to know everything. And he did tell him everything, from the moment they parted ways in the academy that fateful night through to his arrival just a short time ago on The Revenge. Stede told him every single moment in detail, even the bits he probably shouldn't have, like the time he spotted his wife getting it on with some other guy. He told him about all of the times he saw something interesting or pretty, and his mouth would move of its own accord to form Ed's name, before remembering he wasn't there with him. How sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve to be happy, how everything Badminton had told him when he'd held him at gunpoint had echoed the thoughts he told himself every day.
And Ed listened, damn it, he listened with baited breath and a lump permanently trapped in his throat. It didn't make it okay, didn't erase the hurt he felt, but it was cathartic, like pulling a sword from an open wound and letting all of the guts spill out. Stede was telling him the truth, being upfront with him in ways he'd never been before, like he was baring his very soul for Ed to gaze upon with wonder and fascination.
When Stede was done, he did the very same, poured out all of the feelings he'd been holding inside; how he'd wished Stede was dead because maybe then the pain would go away, and how sometimes he didn't really feel like a person, not really, and that no-one really knew him at all. Except for maybe Stede. And when he'd left him, he knew it was all true - he was nothing worth waiting around for.
There was a lot of crying, a lot of apologising, some harsh words exchanged, then more crying, then that moved to hugging, then kissing again. But it was softer now, a little bit like that time on the beach, just as hopeful but this time more true, something like a promise. Stede cradled him in his arms like he was something precious, like Ed was someone worth coming back for, someone tangible and real with flaws and mistakes and parts that someone could cherish all as one. Stede cherished him. And, god, Ed cherished him too.
His calloused fingers moved to brush the thick blonde hair framing the other man's face, and Stede let out a light chuckle.
"You don't really hate it, do you?"
"Nah, I don't," Ed replied, pulling the other man in so their lips met once again. "Not one bit."