Chapter Text
On a dark night in the Caribbean, Edward Teach carves his heart out of his own chest and lets it go on the wind. The red silk flutters in the breeze a moment, held aloft by the same air pressure that fills the sails of their (no, it’s not theirs anymore, maybe it never was) ship, before it falls into the sea below, lost to the waves.
He’s not expecting anyone to catch it.
He only stares dispassionately, the gentle rocking of the ship threatening to lull him into sleep, where he might forget, for a few blissful hours, the knowledge of Stede’s mouth on his.
He turns to go back inside when he hears it. There’s no splash of water, no heavy footfall to herald the arrival of another presence. Just the voice. But when it comes, it drives him to his knees.
“A heart is a valuable thing.”
It yanks him under like a riptide, the sound of a wave being pulled back into the ocean over sand and shell and rock.
“Do you know what you’re throwing away?”
Ed’s eyes are shut against the terrible voice. It’s not harsh, nor cacophonous. It doesn’t sound like a whirlpool, or a hurricane, or any of the dangerous things the sea might conjure up. It’s seductive, and mellifluous, and it makes him feel heavy and tired.
“I don’t want it mate, it’s yours, take it—”
“Look at me.”
It’s an order, and Ed tilts his chin up, forces his eyes open and stares at the face of Davy Jones.
He’s the same height at Ed and he’s taller than the mainmast at the same time, seeming to occupy two worlds at once. His feet are planted firmly on the deck of the ship and yet he seems to stand on the bottom of the ocean, rising thousands of feet to breach the surface. He’s a handsome man, but then Ed’s vision blurs and he sees a massive cephalopod, tentacles wrapped around every inch of the Revenge, ready to pull it under.
“What do you want?” Ed manages to bite out, and his eyes are burning before he realizes he’s crying.
Davy Jones cups Ed’s cheek in a hand that is ostensibly human, but all Ed feels are the suckers pulling at his skin. There’s something like pity or even affection in Jones’ eyes, but it’s undercut by the hunger.
“I want to make you a deal.”
“There’s nothing—” Ed’s voice cracks, and he tries to shake free but there’s nowhere he can go, nowhere he can look except up at this dreadful creature, this pulchritudinous man. Still, he gets the words out. “There’s nothing you can give me.”
Jones smiles, but is a beak capable of a smile?
“What about oblivion?”
For a moment, everything quiets.
He’s too much of a coward to end his own life. He’s tried it, before, once or twice, but couldn’t go through with it, instead choosing to throw himself into the most dangerous situations he could, praying for the day a stray bullet or a saber pierced the wrong side (the right side), or better yet, his heart, to do the work for him. Then Stede came along. Stede, who showed him a way out. Who showed him he could be gentle, and soft, and beautiful.
Stede.
Stede did the worst thing anyone could have done. He showed him another way, and then he shut the door on it, locking it behind him so Ed couldn’t follow.
But Ed can’t forget. He can’t un-know what it’s like to be Edward Teach instead of Blackbeard. He can’t shove those feelings down anymore. They threaten to overtake him every moment of every day. His ribs threaten to cave in on his chest, pierce his lungs until he’s coughing up blood. There’s a tightness in his throat whenever he opens his mouth to speak like he’ll swallow his own tongue if he says one more word. He lives in an unbearable agony, pulled between two selves. He doesn’t want to be either of them. He just wants to forget.
“I can make it like Stede Bonnet never walked into your life. I can take away the anger and the hurt. I can make Blackbeard disappear. And Edward, too.”
Fuck, he wants it so bad. But—
“Why?” He scrapes out, his throat raw.
“Oh, Edward…”
The soft sigh sounds like something Stede would say. Oh, Edward… You look marvelous like that. Oh, Edward… You have a bit of marmalade on your chin, let me get it for you. Oh, Edward… kiss me again.
He shakes his head, trying to pull away, but the phantom feeling of tentacles across his body keeps him paralyzed.
“You’ve fed me for years, do you know that? Spilled so much blood into these waters. Poured so many riches into my maw. It’s the least I could do for a perfect little devotee like you.”
It’s too good to be true.
“I’ll get you more. I’ll rob every ship I come across, I’ll send armadas to your locker—”
Jones shakes his head.
“There’s nothing more valuable than a heart, my dear Edward. Not death, not ships, not all the riches in the world. Just a heart. Still beating. Furious and bleeding and weeping, but still loving. Don’t worry, you won’t feel any of it. I’ll take it all from you, and soon, you won’t even remember your own name, let alone that of Stede Bonnet.”
“Why don’t you just take it now? Why ask? Why—” His voice cracks. “Why offer?”
Suddenly, the grip holding him in place is gone, and Edward slumps forward like a marionette with its strings cut.
Jones looks away from him then, stares out across the unending sea, and Ed thinks that perhaps Davy Jones knows exactly how he feels, or did, once.
“I was a pirate for longer than you can imagine. I’ve stolen and plundered and killed. I’ve taken ships full of jewels only to leave it all burning behind me. But nothing comes close to the feeling of when someone willingly gives themselves over to you. The thrill of an open heart…”
And fuck, Edwards knows that thrill. Stede’s mouth opening under his, the way he kissed back for just a moment, before—
“I don’t take anymore, Edward. Give it to me willingly, or live with the pain.”
But then Davy Jones turns his agonizing gaze back to Edward.
“You call yourself the kraken, don’t you? But you’ve never truly seen one before. Do you want to?”
Jones walks to the railing, turns back to Ed and holds out a hand.
“The choice is yours. If you’re willing to choose.”
On his hands and knees, tangled greying hair stiff with salt, the husk of Edward Teach looks up at his salvation.
He spares one last thought to what could have been. He lets himself remember the feeling of silk on his rough skin, the dry drag of Stede’s lips on his, the fucking look in Stede’s eyes after they kissed, like Edward was the most precious thing he’d ever seen and—
Ed reaches out, takes Jones’ hand, and shakes.
There’s no heavy footfall, no splash of water to mark their departure.
In a moment, Edward Teach is there. The next, he’s gone.