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The first time Ed ever saw Stede, he was hanging from the end of a rope, feet twitching in his fancy high-heeled shoes and once pristine silk stockings. He’d rushed over to save Stede then without even knowing the man. All he knew was that the Gentleman Pirate had told him to “suck eggs in hell” and was the most interesting thing to happen in Blackbeard’s life in a very, very long time.
Now, weeks later, he’s willing to do anything to keep Stede from meeting the noose again.
****
Stede is the first of the two to be pulled up from the deck by the English. Everything inside of Ed is screaming for him to fight, tear himself free, force those fuckers to unhand Stede one way or another. But when he struggles even a little bit, trying to test the strength of the rope tying his hands together, his shoulders burn sharply and a marine swiftly kicks him in the leg as a warning. So instead he tries to smile at Stede as best he can, turning his face up to keep him in his sight for as long as possible. Unfortunately, that just means he can see the worry written across Stede’s soft, kind face when he’s roughly manhandled towards his own quarters.
Then Ed is being picked up and shoved towards the brig. He’s honestly surprised The Revenge has a brig, but in reality it’s more just a store room with a small bit sectioned off by metal bars to make an even smaller cell.
He decides to get comfortable – or at least put on the outwardly appearance of being comfortable – so he leans back against the curve of the hull. At least they freed his hands before throwing him in the brig. But they don’t even bother stationing a soldier or even a pimply private at the door, which is honestly pretty insulting, Ed thinks. They could’ve at least left a couple of well-armed soldiers to keep an eye on him. He is fucking Blackbeard after all!
He doesn’t have to sit there for long, though. A proper fancy-looking admiral type shows up, everything about him expressing utter disdain – for the ship, the situation and especially for Ed.
“Edward Teach, I presume.” It’s barely a question.
“That’s Blackbeard to you, mate.” Ed slides further down the beam he’s leaning against, crossing his stretched legs at the ankles and studying a small hangnail on his left index finger. A dreadful plan has already formed in his head. He knows what he has to do to save Stede. And all Stede has to do is keep his mouth shut.
Ed has lived a life of greed so far. In some ways, that’s what being a pirate boils down to. You want something, usually something other people possess, so you take it. But here, locked in the brig of this ridiculous ship, he can finally be the one to give something up. And he’ll do it gladly, ‘cause he’s giving it to Stede. To save Stede. And Stede has already offered so much to Ed – his friendship, forgiveness, tutelage. Ed has just kept taking and taking, snapping up every crumb, ever little piece of Stede he could. It wasn’t enough to really satisfy him, but it was better than nothing. Enough to keep him going, anyway.
The admiral clearly isn’t in the mood for much small talk, which is honestly fine by Ed. Might as well get the whole thing over with. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to see Stede before the end.
“Would you happen to know anything about the brutal slaying of Captain Nigel Badminton?”
“Yep, I killed the bastard,” he scrunches up his face slightly to emphasise just how truly nonchalant he is about this fact. “Enjoyed it, too.”
“Right.” It’s more of an exhale than an actual word. “And what did he look like?”
“All of you. You all look the same, you know.” It’s true. Hiding under the wigs and behind the shiny buttons of their uniforms, it’s not like one Royal Navy officer stands out from another.
“And how did you kill him?”
Ed’s trying to remember the parts of the story he’s heard from Stede’s crew. Stede himself has never wanted to talk about it. When Ed tried bringing it up one night after a couple of glasses of brandy, Stede had turned positively green in the face and instantly excused himself, saying he was much too tired and also had a busy day planned tomorrow. It had involved a sword, though, he was sure of that much.
“Oh the ushe, uh, stabbing.” He’s trying to keep eye contact to a minimum, just in case this bastard actually knows what he’s doing, but he also can’t just avoid it completely, ‘cause that’ll definitely be a dead give-away. Casual, callous indifference is usually the way to go – and it often has the benefit of pissing off people with huge sticks up their asses.
“And where did you stab him?” Ed is becoming increasingly annoyed with this digging for details.
“Everywhere.” It almost comes out as a question to Ed’s further frustration. “I don’t keep track of these kinds of things. You know, I’m a ‘life is cheap’ kind of guy.” The admiral isn’t giving much away, just looking stalwart and somewhat constipated. But Ed has the benefit of Blackbeard’s reputation on his side. To the world, he is exactly the type of man who would stab someone to death but barely remember the details of it. After all, how many deaths have been credited to Blackbeard? Countless, probably. And it’s an illusion that has served him well through the year, even if it did eventually drain all excitement out of his life, leading to one swift surrender after another.
He studies the hangnail again, waiting to see if the English bastard has more questions. But it seems like he’s satisfied for now. He nods a couple of times, presumably to himself, and then swiftly turns on his heel without another word, leaving Ed to brood down here in the bowels of the ship.
It’s not that long before he’s being brought up to the main deck by a couple of marines, his hands once again tied behind his back. He hopes it’s a good sign, that it means they bought his lie and Stede didn’t ruin Ed’s unspoken plan. Once they’re all gathered on the deck, he doesn’t have time to talk to Stede, but he’s happy just to be here next to him – albeit slightly worried to see Stede’s elegant hands also tied behind his back as they face the makeshift tribunal.
Ed is resigned to his fate. He has made his choice – made a lot of choices throughout his life, actually – and this is where it has led him. Doesn’t stop him getting snappy with the admiral though when he manages to fuck up something as simple as bloody Blackbeard. As if the name isn’t known across the entire Caribbean, whispered in fear amongst sailors and lauded amongst pirates. It’s just plain rude to pretend not to know his name!
He’s standing so close to Stede that when the gentle roll of the ocean rocks the ship just enough, their shoulders briefly touch. It’s a contact Ed welcomes most heartily, even if he can’t allow anyone to see it right now – not even Stede. It’s grounding and reminds him of why he’s doing this. He assumes these are going to be his last moments on earth before that firing squad finally has something proper to aim at. But then there is Izzy and his “service to the Crown”. That fucking traitorous cur.
Ed feels the rage inside him like a cold stone in his belly. Solid and unescapable. He wants to strangle Izzy with his bare hands. But he’s distracted when the admiral continues on to Stede. He expects this to be some sort of formality, a telling off from one aristocrat to another. But as Stede is sentenced to death for Badminton’s murder, Ed realises his entire plan has fallen apart. His sacrifice has been for nothing – sure, he'd expected to die anyway, but at least this way he could spare Stede. But no, Stede is too honest and too good and has apparently fucked everything up.
“We’ll find a way out of this, okay? We’ll come up with a plan.” He can feel the panic bubbling up in his throat, but Stede is already interrupting him with a surprisingly steely resolve in the face of death.
“Ed, no. No, I deserve this.” Ed can barely focus on what Stede’s actually saying. It sounds like something noble about taking responsibility, but the blood is pounding in Ed’s ears and all he can think about is getting his hands free from this damn rope and tearing every English soldier on this ship to pieces with his bare hands. But he knows it’s no use. Even as they do untie him, handing him over to the custody of “Captain Hands”, he knows there are too many of them. He’d never make it. Both he and Stede would be dead before the first marine hit the deck.
What he can do though is punch the shit out of Izzy, so he does. But then his entire focus is back on Stede, who has been blindfolded and maneuvered into place in front of the firing squad by now. Izzy is snivelling about something in his ear, even after the punch, but Ed’s mind is everywhere else. He’s fucking Blackbeard, the master of plans, the king of fuckery. But right now he feels like his head is empty, nothing but the buzz of panic flooding his brain.
Stede is whimpering by now, his previous calm resignation replaced by a much more human, instinctual fear. Ed can’t stand it. It feels like he can’t breathe. He almost let this happen once before, when fucking Izzy tried to kill Stede. He can’t go through this again. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he refuses to look away this time. And then there it is. Like lightning from the sky. The only possible solution. Their last chance.
“Act of Grace!” The words tear out of his throat, hoarse and desperate. It’s all he has. And then before he can even think about it, he has placed his own body between Stede and the firing squad, just shouting the words again and again. The crew all join in, shouting at Stede until he finally calls for grace himself.
Ed quickly turns to remove the blindfold from Stede, letting his hand linger on the other man’s shoulder for just a second. Stede looks at him with confusion written across his beautiful face when he asks what an Act of Grace is, but Ed just wants to look at him, wants to feel the warmth of those hazel eyes on him, wants to revel in the fact that he’s done it, he’s found a way to save Stede.
Before he can explain it to Stede, the admiral is down on the main deck with them, sweating with barely concealed rage. Ed is honestly pretty proud of himself, even if this is truly the very last resort. At least it is a resort. And as he’d told Stede just hours ago: better alive than dead. But then this bastard of an admiral is trying to ruin Ed’s plans once again, claiming Stede isn’t even a pirate, and suddenly riffles are being raised once more.
He’s not going to let this happen; he can’t. He moves to stand in front of Stede again, hand on his shoulder, ready to turn his back on the firing squad so the last thing they both get to see is each other. There’s no way Ed is going into the service of the Crown if it doesn’t spare Stede from certain death. He’ll rather just get it over with now.
But then Lucius starts reading aloud from that damn book. And the entire crew joins in again, jumping to talk up Stede’s less than stellar pirating skills. Ed has never been more grateful for this group of ragtag, barely mediocre pirates. And the other officers certainly seem to be satisfied, despite the admiral’s protests.
“It’s enough for us. Blackbeard renounces piracy to serve the Crown? We’ll be dining with Ol’ King George himself.” He hates the sound of that officer's condescending giggle. Ed can feel something knotted inside of him, like a part of him has curled up and died in his chest. Like this is the moment Blackbeard is defeated – the moment he willingly decided to give himself up to save another man. A friend. Pirates don’t have friends, as Calico Jack had reminded him. But Stede is Ed’s friend.
And now that damn admiral is attacking his friend, calling Stede “a nothing”. Ed is proud to see Stede trying to stand up for himself, talking about his people-positive management style, but then the admiral is advancing with his sword drawn and everything feels like it might go to hell after all. The admiral – Chauncey, Stede calls him – is getting more and more erratic, his voice becoming increasingly high-pitched when he realises things definitely aren’t going his way. In the end, he’s wrestled to the deck by four soldiers, and Ed almost feels bad for him. It’s a truly undignified affair.
They all just stand around for a minute watching Chauncey being led away into one of the English jolly boats. In this weird moment, somehow suspended in time while they just wait, Ed realises he’s still standing so close to Stede that their arms are pressed together. He can feel the soft cotton of Stede’s shirt against his bare arm with every breath, and through the fabric, he can feel the solid heat of Stede’s body. It once again grounds him and reminds him of why they’re doing this. To save Stede’s life. To keep this silly, bumbling, kind, strangely brave man breathing for another day.
Once Chauncey has been taken care of, the marines turn their attention to their captives again. Ed and Stede are both led towards the captain’s quarters with firm shoves between their shoulder blades. Just as they’re about to leave the deck, Stede turns around to look at Ed with an expression Ed can’t quite place as either sad or happy. First his brows are slightly drawn together, his forehead crinkled in worry, and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just smiles at Ed softly, but not really the fond smile he normally gives Ed. Ed wants to say something too, though he’s not sure what. Before he gets the chance to figure it out, a marine is impatiently shoving Stede through the door and down the hallway towards the cabin.
There, on Stede’s own desk no less, they’re presented with a document that makes the hairs stand up on Ed’s arms.
“Oh shit. Damn.” Stede seems to be in agreement with him. Ed can’t help but shoot the officers a pointed look as he talks about using smaller writing to hide tricks. Annoyingly, the shorter of the officers just has a smug smile on his face that doesn’t seem to falter at any point.
That’s when they mention that dreadful detail – the ten years. Ed doesn’t really know what he’d expected; he honestly hadn’t thought this far. Stede clearly isn’t thrilled with the prospect either, but when the alternative is going back in front of the firing squad, he quickly signs. Ed watches him, the flourish of his penmanship, the beautiful pattern of his name at the bottom of this dreadful, embarrassing document.
“’Course, it’s only valid if Mr. Teach signs on.” And then Stede is looking at him, those worried wrinkles cutting across his forehead again.
“You really don’t have to do this.” His voice is soft, giving away no sense of expectation. Ed once again finds it hard to meet Stede’s kind eyes.
“Yeah, I know I don’t.” He’s come this far. He could’ve let Stede die up on deck, let him be riddled with musket balls and allowed this whole thing to come to a natural end. He would’ve gone back with Izzy, back to his old life – Blackbeard’s life. Pillage and plunder and absolutely mind-numbing, soul-smothering boredom. It’s not what he wants. He wants to save Stede. So he takes the quill from between Stede’s delicate fingers, briefly feeling the soft skin against his own rougher fingertips. He sucks in a deep breath before exhaling loudly, steeling himself.
“Think what you’re doing, Ed. Do you really want to lick the King’s boots?” Fucking Izzy making a most unwelcome appearance once again. Ed just looks at him, this man who has loyally followed Blackbeard for many years, doing his bidding, controlling his crew, catering to his whims. He knows Izzy well enough to see that he’s desperate now, clinging to the image of his Captain Blackbeard, even if it means having to call him Ed.
But it’s done. He doesn’t even answer Izzy. There’s really nothing to say after all. Izzy wants him to be a person that doesn’t exist – maybe he never really existed. The dreadful pirate Blackbeard has slowly been crumbling for years. Ed just needed to meet Stede to really understand what his life could be without Blackbeard. He has let go. The mask has fallen and he won’t be able to put it back on. So he just scrawls his X under the elegant letters of Stede’s name.
The tension in the room feels heavy, even after he’s signed. The tone of Stede’s voice is defeated and sad when he asks for a copy of the document. Ed can feel Stede looking at him, but once again he can’t bring himself to meet Stede’s gaze, afraid of what he might see there. Pity, maybe, or disappointment somehow. So he just looks down at the paper on the table, at Stede’s name in ink and his own little X. He wonders how many documents are out there with Stede’s name on them. A deed to his estate, Ed imagines. Presumably a marriage license. Lots of other important, official papers necessary to live an upper-crust life of honesty and societal decency. And now this in lieu of a death record.
This will be Blackbeard’s death record instead. He can just be Ed now. Edward Teach, friend of Stede Bonnet. That’s enough.