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Stede Bonnet was dead .
The words had spun around in his head for days, since he’d first heard the news . Not from grief , he told himself with a voice like a vice ,but with dizzying repetition. Izzy had been all too happy to shout the words every chance he could, giving the moniker Dizzy Izzy a whole new meaning , and every time the Kraken had shoved him off and shoved a bottle of whatever alcohol he had to his mouth . Maybe he should have fed him a few more of his toes , but he really didn’t want to bother . Jim could use some target practice anyways .
He wasn’t oblivious . He knew of the murderous gaze they had in their eyes every time they looked at him , at Izzy , at Fang and at Ivan , at the flag, at Boohardi’s empty room, at the empty spaces where their friends once stood. That gaze only softened lightly when they looked at Frenchie , like a protective older sibling .
Not that he noticed , of course . He didn’t care . The Kraken didn’t care . Jack may have been a prick , but he was right about 2 things : he’d gotten soft and pirates didn’t have friends .
We’re just at different stages of fucking each other off!
So , he’d let them rage , that rage came useful when they had to raid a ship . At the rate they were going , his flag wouldn’t even be the scariest thing that came to mind when people saw it .
Ed would have cared , a tiny voice inside him peeped, a voice that sounded oh so like — no , he stomped it out , Ed wouldn’t have cared because he’s dead . He’s fucking dead , just like Blackbeard killed in the navy , just like the crew , just like Calico Jack , just like St—
He growled and took a swig of his bottle as he stumbled to his room . What did it matter ? They were all dead anyway . The Kraken was all that remained .
He didn’t care . He doesn’t care .
And if there were tear stains on his pillows in the morning, if anyone heard wild sobs into the night, if his kohl ringed eyes were red and wild and puffy , then no one dared to say anything .
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The Kraken was hunched in his lair, as the moon flitted into whatever cracks it could find . There had been a scuffle on board as Jimenez finally seemed to crack . Izzy had gotten himself drunk and started spitting insults about the crew , about how they were more useful as seagull feed than they were as pirates and then proceeded to ensnare Frenchie in a death grip , force his beloved lute out of this hands and throw it overboard . Jimenez had retaliated by beating him to a pulp and then Ivan and Fang as they tried to get them off him . Last he heard , they’d had managed to throw the 3 of them into the brig. Not that he cared . They could tear down the wall paper for all he cared . Besides , if the 3 of them could be beaten by one , then they must have been getting soft , and the Kraken couldn’t have a crew that was soft . He’d let them stew there for a few days , and if they roughed themselves up , then all the better .
When he eventually stirred again , the sky was once again dark . His world always seemed to be dark nowadays , which was fine by him . After all, the Kraken thrived in the dark . But it wasn’t the darkness that had awoken him from his slumber . No , there was a person in the room , cloaked in shadows , but he knew who it was anyways .
“That was quite rude , don’t you think ? Throwing me overboard . All because I tried to help you ” Lucius said as he strode towards him . Lucius in life had been rosy-cheeked and bold , in both clothing and personality, kind underneath his sassy demeanour .
There was none of that kindness left in those clouded over eyes , surrounded by barnacles and seaweed drenched hair . The smell of salt and death swirled around him , overpowering, ghastly and impossible .
Impossible , because he couldn’t be here , he can’t . He’s dead .
He’s dead because of you .
Had his mind not been so fogged from alcohol and sleep (or lack thereof), he would have stomped out Lucius’s image from his mind and swore at this mirage , maybe curse everyone on board , maybe take another swig to drown it all out , maybe even shoot it or stab it .
As is though, as he balked as those clouded eyes , all the thoughts and emotions from the past week broke down his barriers and tore through him like a tidal wave .
Dead because you didn’t want to face yourself and took it out on him instead . You did this . You killed him . You . Just like you did to those sailors when you set their ship ablaze . You told Stede you never killed anyone besides your dad , but you lied . How could you deserve nice things when all you do is destroy them ? You signed your life away for him to save him from a firing squad , but he needn’t have faced a firing squad , none of them would have been captured and threatened by the British if you had just been smarter . Instead you left them for that imbecile and led the navy straight to you . Now he’s dead , his crew is dead . It’s all your fault . You’re the reason . You yourself are the reason you don’t have nice things .
You destroy nice things .
A sob burst forth before he could control himself. In another life , just a few weeks ago , warm , caring hands would have grounded him while a kind voice would have soothed him like a warm blanket in the night , like his mother’s thin broth when he was sick . There was nothing to soothe him now .
“Oh , save me your tears,” the apparition sneered as he towered over him , disdain dripping from his voice like the seawater still in his hair .
“Be honest, are you really surprised that he left ?”
Please stop , screamed Edward in his mind as he dug his hands into his hair , eyes wide in a silent scream .
Please .
If the figure was a figment of his own imagination, it paid no mind to his distress .
“Love is such a nice thing to have !” Lucius continued , his cold , wet , clammy hands forcing his hands out of his ears and into his lap and leaning close with a scowl so that Edward heard every word . “ And you’re just not that kind of person , Edward Teach.”
He lurched out of bed , heart racing , head and ears pounding . His bottle was empty and the moon was still high in the sky . It had only been a few hours .
Fuck this , I need a drink .
He stumbled out of his quarters ,passing the room Jim and Frenchie had taken residence in , the two whispering in hushed conversation under the faux security of night . He ignored them and entered the kitchen , passing the shelves of spoiling rations and the kitchen table still littered with food scraps , towards the closet where they kept their alcohol . His hand was closing around the neck of a bottle of rum when something caught his eyes in the dark glass.
A face.
He knew that face .
It had just haunted him in his sleep .
He dropped the bottle and whirred around , the glass shattering upon impact , spilling the liquor onto the once-spotless , now filthy floor boards . He cursed and shakily retrieved his gun , aiming the barrel at where he was absolutely certain he’d seen that face ,and rounded the kitchen table .
And there was…… nothing.
Nothing but a cabinet . He crept towards it and wretched the door open . A few oranges tumbled out , the space too small to hide anything larger than a small child . There was nowhere to hide.
He reholstered his gun and rubbed his face .
He really needed that fucking drink .
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After the incident in the kitchen , the nightmares came every night , growing more and more vivid .
First he could see his father, a ring of bruises still around his throat as he spewed hate at his good for nothing bastard of a son, the little backstabbing son of a bitch . Then Jack, still going on about how they could have gone back to old times , that he wasn’t Blackie anymore . Then his mother, disappointment in her dark eyes, something that was almost worse than Jack or his dad’s hate . Then Stede’s crew, sunburnt to a crisp, Roach and Wee John begging with outstretched arms to be let on board again, Oluwande trying to make him see reason , the others just standing there with contempt in their eyes , as if they could see exactly who he was and had long since given up on hope .
The one person who had yet to appear to him in his sleep hadn’t slipped his notice . And yet , night after night , he still hadn’t appeared .
He was getting more and more irritated , unkempt , paranoid . He was certain that could hear shifting from the walls .
At first , he opted to sleep with his knife in his fist , but being on high alert all day everyday was proving to be exhausting . Maybe he wouldn’t have minded in his younger days. Blackbeard certainly wouldn’t have minded , he would have loved the rumours about him haunting people as they slept .
But Edward Teach had had something that Blackbeard hadn’t . He had found love, and it had somehow slipped through his defences and facades as silent and as gentle as a falling petal , filling his being with a wholeness and a warmth that he’d never felt before , lifting him higher than any of the stories ever did .
And then that warmth was ripped away. Brutally torn from his rib cage along with the memories of a man with a bright smile , a bright mind and an even brighter heart , leaving him as broken and bloody as Stede must have been in his final moments .
He couldn’t even be angry with him for leaving anymore . He couldn’t feel anything anymore . Nothing but the broken ,empty husk he was.
So when he heard people boarding his ship in the middle of the night , one mere week after he heard of Stede Bonnet’s death , heard voices of people that were no longer there , heard his voice , he decided that his time had come .
And he wasn’t going to fight it . His knife was across the room, his gun was on the shelf , he wasn’t going to try and protect himself . Edward Teach had died that night on the docks . Blackbeard had died in the navy . Whatever he was , he was already long dead. Izzy was right , though in a way that he probably hadn’t meant when he said it . Whatever he’d become was a fate worse than death. And if tonight was the night his love’s face finally came to him , if it were to be the last thing he ever saw , be it smiling down at him or hovering in the corner while someone else plunged a dagger into the heart he had so willingly given away , then he’d die a peaceful man , still gazing at the love of his life.
And if Stede wasn’t the last man he ever saw ?
Well , then.
At least , he thought as he shut his eyes at the sound of the cabin door opening , at least it would be over soon .