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Chapter Text

The Queen Anne’s Revenge cut a bloody swath through the ocean, trailing terror in its wake. Her very approach brought heavy storm clouds, unnatural fog, and rogue waves that rocked people off their feet. The sight of her flag flying in the cold breeze often inspired such intense fear that sailors would abandon ship to drown rather than face the bloodthirsty pirates.

Blackbeard knew it was all a bit of fuckery.

Crafting the approach had been a joy. The fizz of gunpowder, the acrid smoke from bundles of dry herbs and sticks, the complicated rope tricks. Brainstorming it all, tweaking the choreography. That had been fun. Now, though, when he offered suggestions, when he tried to change the formula, Izzy would cast a sideways glance at him and say in that tired voice of his, “Why try to fix what isn’t broken, captain?”

He was right, of course.

They had a perfect formula which made the actual job of pirating easy. Why change it at this point? Besides how fucking boring it all was.

Edward Teach took a puff of his pipe, the tobacco stinging his tongue, and stared out of the thick glass windows. The light that filtered through was so dim that he had lit candles on every available surface, the flickering orange flames casting small circles of luminescence. Maybe it would be brighter if he hadn’t draped everything in black. Still, it reflected his mood pretty well.

One hand dropped, fingers caressing the neck of the open rum bottle beside him. It was almost empty. He debated calling for Ivan to get him another, but knew Izzy would intercept. Would come in. Would talk.

Edward had no interest in talking.

A heavy wave hit the side of the ship. Rocked it hard. The bottle tipped away from his touch and rolled across the uneven floor, the last dregs of rum sloshing inside. Ed’s stomach lurched, a familiar weightlessness that rose to greet the emptiness in his chest. The numb centre of his core that seemed to seep outward day by day. Creeping beneath his skin like some sort of insidious infection.

The door crashed open, banging hard against his cabin wall, jolting him out of his thoughts. As if on cue, the ship rocked heavily back, slamming him into his seat so hard it knocked the wind from his lungs.

“Captain,” Izzy said. Or gasped. It was hard to tell with the normal breathy quality of his voice. “A storm.”

“I can feel that, Iz,” Edward said, grumpily. He lurched out of his chair, stumbling as the ship dipped forward. The dirty windows darkened as water covered them. All of the candle’s flames guttered, throwing the room into darkness. “There weren’t supposed to be storms.”

The clouds had told him so. Floating near the horizon in fluffy, soft lumps, the furthest thing from any storms.

“We’ve gone off course, captain,” Izzy said. The long-suffering tone of his voice was really very annoying. “We’re somewhere…different.”

That piqued Ed’s interest. “Different?” He ran a hand through his beard, the occasional tangle catching his fingers. “Different how?”

Izzy grimaced. He did that a lot, but there was a shine to his eyes that caught Ed’s attention. Keeping a close eye, Ed stepped closer. His footfalls silent. Almost predatory. Izzy shifted uncomfortably, aware of his position as prey in this scenario.

“Just…different.” Izzy shrugged, keeping wary eyes on Edward’s progress. “Fang doesn’t know these waters.”

That sent a shiver down Ed’s spine. Fang was their ocean whisperer. With just the smell of the wind and taste of the waves, Fang was able to identify where in the seven seas they were close to. It was beautiful to watch him, the shine on his skin as he turned his face to the sun and took deep, slow breaths. If Fang had no idea where they were, then they were perhaps in uncharted seas. Somewhere new.

“That’s brilliant,” Ed said. Trying to dampen down the thrum of excitement that traced along his nerves in sizzling waves.

“The storm is severe, Captain,” Izzy said. It was clear what he was trying to do. He was attempting to bring Ed back to earth, stop him from swinging wildly into fantasy, the thrill of the unknown. Better to keep him tethered to the deck, on a short leash, able to drift a little. Enough to keep him alive.

Edward, pointedly, ignored him. A few long strides, no longer trying to stay silent, and he was at the door. Stepping out into the storm.

The deck was awash with water. Heavy rain pelted down, waves crested at the bow and sluiced down the length of the ship. The crew were dashing back and forth, tying down whatever could possibly wash away, securing lines and sails. They worked in silence, no shouted curses or bright cries of anger, highlighting to Ed just how frightened they must be. The sight of him did not seem to settle their nerves.

Ivan was wrestling with the ship’s wheel. Wood worn smooth and shiny by years of rough handling kept slipping from his grasp, spinning wildly. His hands were bleeding. Ed swung into action, palms finding the familiar curves of the handles, catching, holding. The jolt shot up his arms and into his back, muscles trembling with the effort expended. The ship yawed wildly, throwing a number of men off their feet, clinging tightly to rigging to prevent being swept overboard.

“Thank you, Captain,” Ivan said, breathless. He knelt on the deck, scrubbing at his face, not wincing a bit as blood smeared down his cheek. “Fuckin’ thing.”

Before he could check if Ivan was alright, the ship lurched sharply. The bow caught like a stubbed toe. Tipping the stern upwards. Blackbeard had time to watch his crew tumble across the deck, catching in carefully coiled ropes and dangling from the mast, before the upward swing jerked to a halt. The sudden stop pulled Ed away from the wheel, his fingers sliding past the smooth wood just as Ivan’s had, and into thin air. He sailed through space. Weightless. Soaring. Half expecting an updraft to catch his clothes so he could glide effortlessly back onto the deck. He caught sight of Izzy, staring horrified up at him, and the rest of his crew scattered across the deck. None of them were flying like him. The few that had been knocked into the air had been caught in the rigging to dangle helplessly. Ed did not have that luck. His path avoided the masts, the crow’s nests, every single strand of rope. Almost as though the ship moved out of his way. Not daring to snag the master of the vessel.

He cleared the bow. There in the churning water he could see what they’d caught up against. A reef of brilliant reds and greens spearing out of the ocean between each wave. It was massive and beautiful and rushing towards him awfully fast. Oddly at peace, he closed his eyes and waited for impact.

Chapter Text

Edward Teach woke with a jolt, letting out a quick little whimper as pain sank teeth into his flesh. In all his years of piracy, he had never felt such widespread agony. With gritted teeth, he lay as still as he could, cataloguing the aches and stabs that had overwhelmed him so on waking. Scrapes and gashes for the most part, he thought. Bruising from top to tail. A few experimental twitches of the long muscles in his limbs, relief spiking through him when his joints moved as expected. No dislocations. No breaks? Another more decisive movement, lips pulling into a grimace as he sat upright, solidified this notion. Absolutely no broken bones at all.

His eyes slitted open. Bright colours blurred across his vision, spinning around him. Or maybe he was the one spinning. He couldn’t tell. A thin groan slipped from his lips as he lay back down, one hand lifting to rest over his eyes. Even with the lids closed, he could feel the globes twitching beneath his palm.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked. There was clear anxiety in the words, tightening them, lifting them into spikes, and Ed opened his eyes again.

Glowing gold and light bluey green met his eyes. Teal, his mind supplied. Gold and teal, a really nice combination now he was looking at it. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and stared blankly when the glows asserted themselves into shapes.

A human shape. No, not quite human. The vast majority of the teal was collected in a long fish tail, the occasional golden scale shining through, the finned tip playing in an opening on the floor where water rose and fell like breath. The rest of the gold was concentrated in the fins that sprouted from the end of the tail, that lined two otherwise human arms, and that webbed distinctly un-human fingers.

A merman.

A fucking merman.

“Hi there,” the merman said with a bright grin.

“I’m fucking dead,” Edward said in response. He closed his eyes again, waiting to sink into the depths of hell.

“Dead? Oh no, not at all. A bit battered, sure, but not dead.” The merman’s voice dropped a little, became uncertain, “I didn’t quite manage to catch you before you smacked into the reef. Sorry about that.”

Edward’s eyes slitted open, the perfect suspicious glare to level at the merman. The merman’s face was pretty close to human. He had soft cheeks, a long, curved nose, and hazel eyes nestled in a web of crow’s feet. Blond hair sat in damp curls against his forehead, shining in the light radiating from his own fins and—Ed realised now—the walls of the cave around them. Glancing down, Ed saw his clothes were smeared with the same film of glowing algae that coated the walls, adding his own luminescence to the room.

“Gross,” he said, trying to wipe the slimy plant off his fingers and instead succeeding in smearing more onto his skin. Stupid leather pants. Absolutely zero absorbency.

“ ’Tis a bit texturally unpleasant, isn’t it?” the merman said sympathetically. “Here.” He leaned over and dipped both hands into the water. The glowing webbing between his fingers bulged as he scooped up some salty water and proffered it forward like communion. Not that Ed had ever taken part in such rituals.

Now he dipped his fingers in the cool water held in the merman’s hands, rinsing off the algae. His fingertips brushed against the palm of one of those cupped hands, soft skin that was slightly warmer than the ocean and much colder than his own. The merman had clearly felt the brush too, because his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes dropped.

“Thanks,” Edward said, pulling his hands back. A long graze down the length of his middle finger started to smart from the salty water, a welcome distraction.

“No problem.” The merman closed his hands, the majority of the water splashed down onto the ground he was—sitting? Kneeling? Beached?—on. Ed watched closely as the merman awkwardly scratched along the side of his chest. His bare chest. Ed tried not to stare, yet found himself unable to pull his eyes away from the golden slits that curved around the ridges of the merman’s ribs.

Gills, he thought. The sight of them grounded Ed in a strange way, a detail that he was somehow sure his dying mind would not supply. This was real. He wasn’t dying.

“Blackbeard,” he said, holding out one hand. Then, correcting himself, “Edward, I mean. Ed.”

The merman stared down at Ed’s hand with wide, shining eyes. A fine tremor shivered through the bunched webbing between his fingers as he reached out and cautiously slipped his hand into Ed’s.

“Stede,” he said. “Just Stede.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ed clasped Stede’s hand and gave a firm shake. Stede’s skin was definitely cooler than his own, damp and soft but not slimy. That was a relief.

“Pleasure. Now, Stede, where the actual fuck are we?”

Stede laughed. A warm throaty chuckle that sent a fluttering in Ed’s stomach. He hadn’t felt that for a very long time. That was unsettling, and he decided not to examine it further. Instead he leaned into the annoyance that sparked when Stede stopped laughing and sat looking at the hole in the middle of the floor where his tail fins swayed in time with the shifting water.

Clearing his throat pointedly, Ed leaned forward and put on his best irritated glare. Izzy had always told him what a fucking nightmare this stare was. When Stede eventually looked up from his tail and their eyes met, he looked suitably abashed.

“A cave,” Stede said eventually. Ducking his eyes to avoid looking further at Ed’s glare.

“Very unhelpful, thank you.” Ed’s voice was strained between gritted teeth. “And my crew? My ship?”

Stede brightened. Literally. The light gleaming from his skin intensified into flashes of turquoise as he smiled. “Oh! They’re up there,” he said, gesturing to the roof of the cave.

“Up…there…?” Ed repeated. His eyes skated over the ceiling of the cave, finding only cracks in the stone filled with glowing algae.

“On the surface,” Stede said, as though this explained everything.

Edward, still in the dark, blinked. “They’re okay though…right?”

“I am almost certain they are,” Stede said in a tone that was anything but certain. “Apologies, I was more focused on bringing you to safety.”

Edward thought of Izzy’s horrified expression, of Ivan coughing with blood smeared on his face, of his crew dangling in the rigging, and felt his guts twist into a knot of anxiety. They must think he was dead.

“Listen,” Stede said in a soothing voice. “I’ll go check. Okay? Right now. You stay here and rest, I’ll be right back.”

And, before Ed could open his mouth to respond, the merman slipped into the hole in the floor and his shine faded rapidly from sight.

Chapter Text

The cave was incredibly boring. Once the whimsy of the glowing algae wore off, all that was left was cold, wet stone coated in slimy gunk. Every movement smeared more of it on Edward’s clothes until he was covered in an uneven coating that glimmered as he shifted. Pain rocked through him as he rolled onto his front, lifting himself onto his hands and knees. He groaned low in his throat, debating whether he’d be able to rise onto his feet. After a tentative push against the ground, he decided against it when nausea squeezed in his throat.

“Fine,” he said to himself. With a groan, he started to crawl towards the hole in the centre of the floor, eyeing the breathing tide that occasionally rose enough to splash onto the stone. Each wash of the water caused the algae there to flash bright colours, hurting Ed’s eyes. He gritted his teeth. Forced himself forward in heaves.

Finally at the edge of the opening, he sat back on his heels and dipped his hands into the water. It was cold, almost like ice, and—after an initial jab of stinging pain—numbed his fingers almost instantly. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation.

“Aye, Karl,” came a low voice, the tone conversational.

Ed yelped in surprise. Hopped away from the hole despite the bone-deep ache that wrung through his body. Lifted one hand in an automatic gun-shape, though his guns were nowhere to be found, a useless weapon pointed directly at the face peeking from the surface of the water.

The person was almost completely bald with a fringe of long grey hair that floated in a halo around them. Piercing blue eyes pinned Ed in a suspicious glare, so intense that it took Ed a moment to realise there was a crab perched on the bald pate with claws lifted in a veiled threat. From the hole came a soft, blue glow.

“H-hello,” Ed said.

The person—no, another fucking merman—narrowed his eyes further and lowered in the water until his lips were just submerged. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly clear despite the water covering his mouth. He had a thick Scottish accent. “ ’Tis peculiar.”

Ed watched, bemused, as the crab waved its claws in his direction. He tried again, “I’m Ed, nice to meet you.”

“Very strange indeed,” the merman continued. He continued to sink into the water. Now only the crab was above the surface. It dropped its claws to grab and nibble at pieces of algae floating on the gentle waves. Then it was beneath the surface as well, the gentle blue light that had been emanating vanishing.

“What the fuck?” Ed said to himself. Automatically, he holstered his finger gun, hooking his index finger into the leather strap at his hip.

So Stede wasn’t the only merman floating around in these waters then. Ed wondered briefly if there were any other mystical sea creatures lurking in the depths. Surely the kraken wasn’t real… And Stede wouldn’t have left him here if it was unsafe. Surely.

He mulled this over for what seemed like a very long time. It was hard to judge exactly how long in the cave, with nothing but the breathing of the water to mark time passing. He paced for a while, feet marking a circle tracing around the exit in the glowing algae, until the pain grew to the point he could no longer stand it. Groaning, struggling with his aching joints, he lowered himself to the hard ground and covered his face with his hands. Salt stung at his chapped lips, filling his mouth with the taste, and he was suddenly, painfully aware of how thirsty he was.

“Fucking hell,” came another voice from the hole. Ed peeked through parted fingers. Two faces this time. The one who spoke was round and kind, large dark eyes beneath short, tightly kinked hair. His voice was low when he added, “Buttons was right.”

The other face was long, thin, and utterly androgynous. This merfolk’s eyes were narrowed and suspicious, focused on Ed with the intensity of a particularly vicious predator eyeing its prey. It had been a long time since Ed had felt actively in danger, but this merfolk gave that impression effortlessly.

“Jim, quit it, you’re scaring him,” the first merman said. He effortlessly hoisted himself out of the water with a splash, revealing soft curves of brown skin and a powerful tail glowing a darker teal than Stede’s had. The gills that sliced into his ribcage had frills with orange highlights flashing a slow, steady beat. “Oluwande. Nice to meet you. This here’s Jim, they don’t say much.”

Face half-submerged in the entrance, Jim blew irritated bubbles.

“Good to see you’re real and that Buttons hasn’t gone totally mad,” Oluwande continued with a smile that set Ed oddly at ease.

“Buttons…and his friend Karl,” Ed said slowly.

Jim snorted something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“That’s the one,” Oluwande said with a giggle. “Be glad you didn’t meet Liv, she packs a hell of a punch.”

Edward didn’t quite know what to say about that, but thankfully didn’t have to when Stede’s voice rang out in an anxious shout.

“You guys!” Stede burst through the hole to land on the stone with a wet slap. His eyes were fixed on the other merfolk, one hand lifted as though he could hide Ed behind his arm. “You guys, I told you to stay away from here.”

“Yeah, we can all see why,” Jim said. Their tone was perfectly balanced between fond teasing and cool sarcasm.

Blood filled Stede’s face, concentrated in bright red at the tips of his ears. “Look, that’s not…” He cleared his throat. “This is Edward. He’s…uh…I saved him.”

Oluwande and Jim exchanged a look. Ed thought he could see the bright spark of something between them. Telepathy perhaps. Fucked if he knew how merfolk communicated.

“And now I’d like to keep saving him, so push off, would you?” Stede said in an exasperated tone.

Jim scoffed, only to fall silent as Oluwande shot them another look. “Yes, of course. Sorry about that, Stede,” Oluwande said. He slipped into the ocean, comfortably floating shoulder to shoulder with Jim.

Teeth that were almost pointed enough to be called fangs flashed as Jim grinned at Ed. When they lifted a hand in a farewell gesture, the webbing of their fingers reminded Ed of the sharks that had circled the Queen Anne’s Revenge in times of bloodshed. Grey, rough, and thicker than the other merfolk he’d seen up to this point. He was sure that, beneath the water, Jim had the tail of a great white.

The two of them vanished beneath the surface, leaving Ed and Stede alone.

“Sorry about them,” Stede said. When he turned back, his cheeks were so red they seemed to give off their own faint glow. Hard to tell though, when so much of him gleamed the way it did. “They’re…enthusiastic…”

Edward opened his mouth to say something, made the mistake of straightening his back, and groaned instead when pain jolted through him, accompanied by a now familiar wave of light-headedness.

“Don’t push yourself,” Stede said, distressed. His hands were cool and strong when they rested on Ed’s shoulders.

Ed found himself leaning into that touch, his heartbeat quickening in his chest, eyes sliding closed. The pain eased slightly as he relaxed, a relieved sigh slipping from his lips. His cheek pillowed on Stede’s shoulder, the heat rising in his face soothed by the cool, soft skin there.

“I’ll take care of you,” Stede said in a low voice. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ed slipped into a deep, easy sleep.

Chapter Text

Ed woke with a throat like parchment and a head pounding in time with his heart. He was curled on his side on bare stone warmed by his own heat. The tip of his tongue skated over lip cracked into sheets, picking up flakes of salt so intense that they hurt his mouth.

“Water,” he croaked. Rolling onto his stomach, he started to crawl slowly towards the hole in the floor, towards the tantalising, splashing waves washing over the edge. The rational part of his brain—made small by the depth of his thirst—attempted to reassert itself, crying out the word salt over and over. He reached the edge, hooked both stinging hands onto the side of the hole, and wrenched himself forward. Intent on diving head first into the icy water.

Stopped when Stede’s head popped up from below the surface.

“Ed?” Shock widened Stede’s hazel eyes as they skimmed Ed’s face and body. “Are you okay?”

“Thirsty,” Ed managed.

“Oh, well I may have something that can assist.” Stede lifted something from around his waist, a satchel made of woven strands of kelp that was clearly dead, not dried, but also somehow not rotted. From that he drew a few items absolutely saturated with cold water. A blanket, one that looked familiar but he couldn’t place with thirst gnawing at his brain. Then, handfuls of clothes of varying sizes, none of which would fit Ed in the slightest. And, finally, a couple of glass bottles. Ed snatched one, hungrily, pulling out the cork with his teeth and gulping hungrily.

Fresh water. Cold. Exploding across his tongue and down his throat where it sat in his stomach like a cannonball of ice. He sighed in relief, dropping the now empty bottle to rattle on the stone floor.

“You need fresh water,” Stede said in the tone of a naturalist observing a particularly rare specimen of bird. “Noted.”

Ed managed a thumbs up, eyes slitting closed.

“Good thing there’s lots up on that ship of yours,” Stede continued, almost conversationally. “Managed to nab this one while the little shouty one was distracted.”

Ed snorted. His thirst quenched, his brain began whirring at its normal pace. “You grabbed this from the ship?” He sat up with a groan and picked up one of the pair of britches. When he lifted it up, water streamed from the hems to splash onto stone. They were very narrow and very long. Moonie’s. The chef of the ship, almost seven foot tall and rake thin. Could make absolutely anything into pie. It was his special skill. The shirt was Fang’s, he could tell by how few buttons there were at the front. And the long john’s were definitely Izzy’s. Worn thin at the knees.

“Oh yes,” Stede said. “I’m very sneaky when I get the chance. Just watch.”

He covered his mouth and nose with one hand, put the other on the centre of his chest. The glow of his scales flickered, then faded until his light was completely gone. He, like Ed, was only illuminated by the shimmer of algae covering the cave walls. In the gloom, it was a lot easier to imagine that he was just another human, trapped here with him.

Then Stede sneezed and coloured light flooded through his gills, fins and scales in a rush.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his nose with one webbed hand. “Staying dark tickles.”

Ed reached out one hand, gently brushing it across Stede’s tail. The scales were smooth and slick, cold. Where his fingertips touched, golden light broke through the teal. When he glanced up, Stede’s cheeks were pink and his eyes were wide.

“You’re so warm,” Stede said, his voice low and awed. “Like the sun.”

“And you’re cold.” Edward’s hand trailed up now, watching the path of gold that his fingertips made. Acting automatically, he traced an ‘X’ and smiled when the letter glowed from Stede’s tail.

Stede coughed, turning his face away, and Ed snatched his hand back. Ignoring the jolt of pain that dug beneath his shoulder blade at the sharp movement. “Anyway, you need fresh water. Anything else?”

“Something warm,” Ed said. “Food, too. Whatever you can get.”

Stede traced the tip of one finger over his palm, a movement that was almost like writing, but not in any script that Ed had seen before. Not that he was any good at writing anyway. “Noted,” Stede said. He smiled up at Ed, shy and sweet, and Edward tried very hard not to feel the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach. “I’ll go again tonight.”

Dropping his eyes, Ed managed to force out a strangled, “Thank you.” Not a comfortable sensation, but one that he thought was warranted considering just how much Stede had done for him thus far. Considering how much he would no doubt continue to do. He was utterly shocked when his voice continued with absolutely no input from his brain, “Could you…stay? Just for a while?”

“Of course,” Stede said. He lay down on the stone floor, pillowing his head in fingers as interlocked as the webbing would allow. Ed’s eyes followed the curve of his gills, watching them shift and twitch in the cool air, then the strong muscles in Stede’s torso, the long ones that started at his spine, swooped around his hip, and bulged powerfully in his tail. He must swim ridiculously fast.

Ed lay down beside Stede, wincing as the scrapes and bruises littering his skin groaned at him. Stede unhooked one hand, reached out, rested it gently on the loudest injury. Beneath his palm, the shallow gash, surrounding extensive abrasion, and lingering dark bruise eased into silence by the firm pressure and cool flesh. Ed sighed with relief, tension he wasn’t even aware he was holding easing from his shoulders, the long muscles beside his spine, his body melting into the ground.

At peace, his eyes traced over the roof of the cavern, drawing lines between the glowing vines rooted in cracks in the stone to form constellations. The familiar night skies he had sailed beneath for most of his life.

Chapter Text

Stede had a number of successful runs on the ship over the next however long—Ed’s marking of time passing had not improved in the slightest— bringing back cured food and fresh water. At Ed’s request he also brought down some of the stray coils of rope that were scattered on deck, thin enough that Ed could string them up into a makeshift clothesline. The cloth dried slowly, stiffened by the salt imbuing the fabric. Using them, Ed was able to make a warm, little nest to sleep in, protected from the slimy, glowing algae and cold stone.

While Edward appreciated the food and water that Stede brought to him, he valued the time that Stede spent most of all. He felt utterly at ease when the merman would lie beside him, telling him stories of what was happening above. Their physical contact was limited, the occasional brush of their hands or pressure of limbs when they lay on the stone. Ed found himself lingering on those moments. His mind replayed each touch in detail and slow motion.

One day—or night, time was still blurred and uncertain—Ed was snoozing in the nest of fabric. Stripped of his leather, he was dressed in soft, cotton shorts drawn closed with crisscrossing thread, and a purple shirt that ended just above his belly button.

The tattoos on his legs were some of his favourites, but so rarely seen thanks to his leather trousers being very difficult to roll up. A sea serpent wound its way up his right calf and onto his thigh, ending in a finned head with massive fangs, while his left leg was a tribute to the favourite sea creatures he had seen on his travels. Manta rays, giant turtles, and sharks swam randomly on his skin. The front of his thigh was taken up with the biggest creature he had ever seen; a whale that had risen from the deep blue water to cruise alongside the Queen Anne’s Revenge for a solid hour. It had been almost as long as the ship itself. Ed remembered leaning over the railing, watching it roll in the waves, meeting a black eye that was almost a foot across. He’d made Fang tattoo the beast on him there and then.

Now, bruises still marred his exposed skin, swathes of night sky lightening to a yellowed dawn at the edges. The scrapes, on the other hand, were all pretty much healed, with only scattered scabby dots marking where they had been.

He jolted awake when Oluwande popped up through the entrance, his eyes wide and fear etched in his kind face. “Hey, whats-ya-name, wake up.”

“W-what is it?” Ed asked. The stutter was intentional, as was the dazed look on his face as he lifted his head from the nest. In the past, this strategy had given him the upperhand in an ambush, flipping the power effortlessly. Blackbeard was never surprised, after all.

“It’s Stede,” Oluwande said. His voice shook slightly, and he seemed to pay no attention to Ed’s act. Indeed, his eyes were already turned back towards the water, where the teal of his tail glowed gently, searching the depths.

Edward dropped the act. He shot out of bed and darted towards the opening, pointedly ignoring the twist of anxiety in his stomach. Oluwande pulled himself out of the water, reaching both hands down into the ocean, and by the time Ed reached the edge, Jim was there.

And, gripped in their hands, was Stede.

Ed watched, helpless, as Oluwande took Stede’s weight and pulled him free of the water.

The water that washed across the stone, sparking the algae into flashes of deep orange, was stained red with blood.

Heart beating hard against his ribs, Ed moved closer, hovering as Oluwande lay Stede down on the ground. Ed hardly noticed when Jim also pulled themselves free of the water, too busy shouldering his way past Oluwande to kneel at Stede’s side. Nauseated by the pallor of Stede’s already pale skin, the blue tint to his lips.

Stede’s upper arm was sliced open, the edges of the skin blackened, blood still pouring freely from the torn flesh. Without a pause, Ed pulled his shirt over his head and pressed it hard on the wound, relief bursting through him when Stede lifted a hand to wave weakly towards him.

“Quit it,” Stede groaned. “Hurts…”

Edward ignored him. “What happened?” he snapped at Oluwande.

“He got shot by your puto bastardo friend,” Jim said, their tone like ice. The hands they lay on Oluwande’s shoulders were protective, the baring of their fangs an explicit threat. “He would have been killed if Oluwande hadn’t followed him.”

The terror that squeezed a fist around Ed’s guts was utterly unfamiliar. The anger, however, was like an old friend, rising like flame in his throat. “Izzy, you little arse face,” he hissed.

“Oh, hi, Ed,” Stede said. His hand cupped Ed’s cheek, cool and soft, and Ed’s anger evaporated immediately. “Nice to see you.”

“Shh, don’t strain yourself,” Ed murmured as soothingly as he could. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, ouchie.” Stede shifted, pulled away slightly, and Ed followed to keep pressure on the wound. The irritation that flashed over Stede’s face settled into an uncomfortable and awkward smile when Ed caught his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I know it hurts,” Ed said. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding. I’ll take care of you. You trust me, right?”

“With the tides and the moon,” Stede said, his tone dreamy, hazel eyes drifting closed.

Ed flushed. Looked away in time to see Oluwande and Jim exchange another one of those intensely intimate glances. Annoyed and deeply self conscious, he snapped, “Oi, quit it.”

Oluwande jolted, but Jim only turned their eyes to Ed, gaze narrowing in disdain.

“What do you use for injuries like this?” Ed asked, determined to have interrupted them for a reason beyond his own embarrassment.

“I don’t know,” Oluwande said, distressed, before his light brightened and he added, “I could ask Roach. He’d know.”

Jim grimaced, but Ed ignored them. “Go get him then,” he said. “Quick.”

Not hesitating, Oluwande dived into the water and his teal light vanished from sight. Ed looked away from Jim, not liking the nerves that twisted through him at their glare, and turned his attention back to Stede.

The bleeding had stopped. He pulled the cloth away to examine the wound more closely. A glancing shot, the bullet had caught Stede in the arm and torn through the meat of his deltoid. A shallow tear in his flesh, but ugly and uneven, enough to tie Ed’s guts in a knot.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, brushing the wet, blonde curls away from Stede’s forward. “I’ll take care of you.” Ignoring, pointedly, the repetitive clicking of Jim’s claws on the stone from behind him.

Chapter Text

After what felt like a very long time, Oluwande’s face reappeared at the opening, a relieved smile on his face. The merman who appeared beside him had a damp cloud of dark curled hair and wide eyes containing a familiar gleam of madness, their glow mingling to an aggressively bright pink that hurt Ed’s eyes.

“Hello, Mister Legs,” the new merman—Roach—said with a grin.

When he emerged from the water, he did so with no effort, no pushing or straining to beach himself. His tail glowed red, the membranous fins lining his arms interspersed with white and red striped spines that ended in wickedly sharp points, just like one of those tropical fish that Fang delighted in finding: the ones that were so bafflingly toxic they caused either lifelong pain or death at a single touch. His brown skin was marked with scars, much like Ed’s own, silvery slashes across his torso and arms. Like Stede, he had a kelp satchel draped over one shoulder. As Roach moved closer, Edward hunkered over Stede in a protective movement. A gesture that Roach summarily ignored, his tail slapping the stone as he scooted so close that his strongly muscled shoulder met Ed’s.

“Hey, watch it,” Ed growled, shrinking away from the spikes that protruded from Roach’s elbows.

Roach continued to ignore him, much to Ed’s chagrin. “Oh this is easy,” Roach said, his grin widening despite how little space remained on his cheeks. At this rate, the corners of his mouth would run right off the edges of his face. “Just gotta chop it off.”

“Ch-chop…” Ed blinked, slowly, his mind ticking over the disconnect between the seriousness of the concept—amputation was no laughing matter—and the casual tone Roach was using. “For this? Absolutely not.”

Roach pouted and crossed his arms, expertly avoiding the spikes on his elbows.

“What have you got besides lopping the arm off a man with a minor flesh wound?” Ed continued, irritation laced in his tone like acid.

“Okay, okay, no chopping,” Roach said, amicably enough Ed thought. There was a long pause where Roach bent and examined the wound more closely. Ed tried not to flinch as Roach’s fingertips probed near the injury, Stede letting out a huffing little whimper. “Easy,” he said again.

“If you say ‘chop’ I swear to the fucking gods,” Ed muttered under his breath.

Without any acknowledgement that he had said anything at all, Roach started to hunt through the satchel over his shoulder, then pulled out a handful of worms. No, not worms, the tendrils of some anemone, Ed realised in the split second before Roach shoved the entire handful into his mouth. Bile rose in Ed’s throat, stung at the back of his nose, until he swallowed it back forcefully.

“Delish,” Roach said, voice muffled. With a tongue that was too long and too pointed, Roach deposited the chewed anemone into his palm. Ed retched. Covered his mouth. Watched in horror, unable to avert his eyes, as Roach slapped his palm onto Stede’s wounded arm. Stede did not react, laying still with his eyes closed. Only the fanning of his gills showed he was still alive.

“What the fuck,” Ed said in a low voice.

“Prevents infection,” Roach said. He withdrew a long, damp strand of seaweed from the satchel, winding it like a bandage around Stede’s upper arm. “Keeps it clean. It’ll heal real nice.”

Ed, examining the scattering of scars on Roach’s skin, was unconvinced of this last point, but wasn’t going to protest. Besides, with his own patchwork of silvery scars and black tattoos covering his own body, who was he to argue?

As soon as the seaweed bandage was secured, Stede stirred. Hazel eyes slitted open, light speared through his scales until he gleamed. His gaze landed on Ed, still crouching near him, and the smile that relaxed onto his face eased the icy fist that had clutched Ed’s heart. Warmed him. Brought a flush to his cheeks.

“Oh, hello, Roach,” Stede said. His smile waned every so slightly when his eyes flitted towards Roach, who was still leaning over him. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you,” Roach said, matter-of-factly.

His grin was significantly less unsettling when it was directed at Stede. It seemed softer at the corners, that fewer teeth were showing. Even his eyes seemed warmer, the colour deeper. Ed was reminded of his mother’s eyes, when she’d sung him to sleep as a child, a memory that rose fully formed from the very dark corners of his mind where his childhood lingered. The surprise of it brought tears to his eyes, a sting that he blinked away forcefully.

“And now he’s saved you can shove off,” he said, his tone significantly harsher than he’d intended. Annoyed, again, at not just the spike of guilt that needled at his gut, but the knowing twitch of Roach’s eyebrows.

“Yes, sir, Mister Legs, sir,” Roach said.

Stede grimaced. “Oh, come on, Roach, you know better than to point out a man’s flaws.”

Flaws. The word squeezed around Ed’s head so hard he felt a little dizzy. He became painfully aware of his bare legs poking from the hem of his underwear, how thin and fragile they seemed next to the powerful tails of the merfolk around him. Flushing with embarrassment, he tucked them close to his side, hoping they were less visible.

“It’s rude, and we’re not rude to our guests,” Stede continued, not seeming to notice. His voice was building in strength as he talked, colour rising in his cheeks. He looked almost back to normal. Well, as normal as a mythical sea creature could, Ed supposed.

Roach nodded, then turned to Ed. “Sorry, Mister Beard, sir.”

“Better,” Stede said in a proud little voice. “Now push off, the lot of you. I’m fine.”

“You do seem fine,” Jim said, their voice startling a little yelp out of Ed, who had quite forgotten that they were still there.

Oluwande piped in, amusement in his tone. “Thanks for all the worry, really appreciated.”

Shame pinched at the corners of Stede’s eyes, and a bright spark of rage flared in Ed’s ribs. He turned to Oluwande and Jim with his teeth bared, his eyes alight with fury, and snarled, “Get out.”

Jim bared their own fangs in return, a much more threatening sight than Ed in his undies, and dove into the opening without a second glance. When Ed turned his gaze slightly, Oluwande lifted his hands in a gesture of supplication and said, “Only banter, mate, don’t get all twisted.” His smile was reassuring—No hurt feelings. He slipped into the hole tail first, allowing him to offer one last wave before he disappeared beneath the water.

There was a long moment of silence, where Roach grinned his slightly unhinged grin, and Ed and Stede watched him.

“You too, Roach,” Stede said finally, a lot gentler than Ed would have.

Roach put a hand on his chest, the striped webbing in his fingers flashing red. “Me? Oh. I see.” He leaned in to Stede, tipped his head. “Anything else before I go?”

“No, thank you, Roach, that’s plenty.”

Despite Stede’s assurance, Roach still lingered for a moment at the entrance. Then, with another nod, he slithered into the water and vanished beneath the waves. The relief that passed over Ed was dizzying, and he slumped down beside Stede with a sigh.

“Sorry about them,” Stede said, sounding genuinely remorseful. “We’re an odd bunch.”

A laugh burst from Ed’s mouth. Uncontrollable, bright, joyful. He leaned his head on Stede’s shoulder—the uninjured side—and let his laughter ring out. The relief softened, warmed, and he relaxed into the feeling, not knowing if it was caused by being so close to Stede or by how quickly he was recovering.

Chapter Text

Stede recovered quickly. He would, Ed thought, recover faster if he were in the water, but for some reason he insisted on staying in the cave. The days passed, Stede marking each of them until Ed was able to read the tides himself.

It took three days for Ed’s food to run out. He ate the last orange in segments, lying on his back beside Stede, enjoying the burst of sweet juice that filled his mouth with each bite. He licked his sticky fingertips, wiped his hand on his shirt, and sighed a little sadly.

“No more food… Time to start starving to death, I think.”

Stede rolled onto his stomach, covering his mouth with one webbed hand, horror in his eyes. “You mustn’t!”

Amused, and a little touched, Ed snorted. “I’m not actually going to starve, Stede. I’m sure I’ll find something to eat.”

“There’s plenty on the ship,” Stede said. “I could go and grab some things for you.”

Ice slid down Ed’s spine, gooseflesh rippling across his skin. His hand shot out of its own accord to squeeze tight around Stede’s. “No, you can’t.”

Stede blinked, eyebrows pinching together, confused. The hand Ed was gripping closed gently over his own, the cool flesh and soft, pliant webbing encasing his knuckles. Soothing, a damp washcloth on a fevered brow. Some of the tension winding up in Ed’s shoulders eased, and he managed to loosen his grip slightly.

“You might get hurt,” Ed said, gaze flitting to the kelp bandage still wrapped around Stede’s bicep. “I don’t want you going alone.”

“Ah.”

An uncomfortable pause. At least, uncomfortable for Edward. He was not used to showing such outright protectiveness. Usually, these acts were more subtle. Turning the ship to give Izzy the best morning sun for his usual glowering at the horizon, ‘throwing out’ looted weaponry so the crew could scavenge some sturdier swords, hell, even avoiding looting peanuts because Ivan was allergic.

“You could come with me?” Stede offered, the uncertain lilt in his voice making the question clear. Ed’s head swung up, their eyes meeting. Stede was smiling. “Keep me safe.”

Ed’s stomach flip-flopped, his heart leaping into his throat to crowd out his voice. He swallowed, pushing the feeling away. “I can do that,” he said, forcing bravado into his voice. That was something he was familiar with. His eyes dropped, fixing on the bandage again. Stede, following his gaze, pulled his hand free and tugged at the kelp. It tore into pieces immediately, the fragments soft and limp in Stede’s hand. He flicked them off with a wrinkle of his nose.

“See, good as new,” he said proudly, offering his arm up.

Edward would not go quite that far. Shiny, purple scar tissue had knitted the edges of the wound together, raised and uneven. It would take a long time to fade, Ed was sure, and he felt a stab of guilt. Izzy was too good a shot. Shaking the thought away, he moved forward and examined the scar closely. Ran his fingers along the new tissue, watching Stede closely for the slightest wince.

“Roach did a great job,” Stede said. His smile remained firmly in place despite Ed’s prodding. “The anemone really helps it come together.”

Ed tried not to grimace at the memory of the half-chewed coral, but didn’t quite manage. Judging by the way Stede’s lips twitched, he had clearly seen the expression shift. Blood rose in Ed’s neck to fill his cheeks and burn at the tips of his ears. He became aware of just how close they were, his hands on Stede’s arm, facing each other, barely a foot apart. Stede’s tail was curled in a big arc around him, smooth scales on his bare leg. Usually, this would make him feel claustrophobic and vulnerable, but knowing it was Stede…was different. He felt safe, secure. At home, almost.

Even a week ago, he would have pulled away from the sensation, put on a grin and made some sort of snarky remark. Now, though, he settled in more comfortably, leaning his weight onto Stede’s tail.

“Tonight,” he said, releasing Stede’s arm. “Not now.” Unable to suppress a grin at Stede’s wide smile and the brightening of his scales.

“Brilliant!” Stede lay the back of his fingers against his own forehead, then reached out and gently touched the same spot to Ed’s. The tenderness in the gesture weakened Ed’s joints, brought blood to his cheeks, and sent a spark of warmth through his gut. “In the meantime… I would like to show you something.”

Ed tipped his head. Curious as to what there was left for Stede to show him. They had already gone over every inch of the cave, naming every plant and identifying every rock. Ed had been bullshitting the whole time, of course, but maybe Stede had known what he was talking about.

“Home,” Stede said.

“Home,” Ed repeated. He pointed to the entrance hole. Then to himself. “In there?”

Stede nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed! It’s not far.”

“I can’t breathe in there,” Edward said. “And…” He twitched his legs, flushing.

“I’ll swim with you,” Stede said. His hand was cold when it landed on Ed’s knee, gentle pressure. “I’ll keep you safe. You trust me?”

With not a moment’s hesitation, Edward nodded. It was true, instinctually. Stede had saved him from drowning by bringing him here, had tended to his wounds, kept him fed and watered. If Stede believed it was safe, Ed would follow.

Stede dived into the water first, the gold of his light dimming considerably once he was in the water. He popped his head up, shaking droplets from his hair, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at Ed. The thump of Ed’s heart against his ribs seemed very loud suddenly, as though it was going to burst free at any moment. He put a hand over it, willing it to calm down, before he stripped down to his undershorts. Already shivering, he jumped into the water before he could think long enough to hesitate.

It was like being squeezed in a fist made of ice. He kicked up to the surface, taking big, heaving breaths, clinging to the edge of the stone as his legs flailed. Stede waited patiently, watching with interest. Beneath the water, his tail drifted, smooth scales brushed up against Ed’s skin. At least Ed hoped it was Stede’s tail, and not some vicious fish ready to sink teeth into his arse.

“Ready?” Stede asked, when Ed’s breathing slowed and his legs stopped thrashing.

Ed looked down, into the water. Stede’s tail glowed teal, casting gentle light onto Ed’s legs. Seeing them beside each other in Stede’s native habitat, Ed was acutely aware of how useless his legs were, barely able to keep him afloat with their own power.

Pushing the thought away, Edward put his hands into Stede’s, drew in as much air as his lungs would hold, and nodded. A flick of his tail, and Stede had pulled him under, into the icy water, and away from the opening to the cave.

Chapter Text

Salt water stung Ed’s eyes, but he kept them open regardless. Stede’s hands were wrapped tight around his own, warmer than the water that flowed so quickly past them, stronger than he had realised. Ed was a fish caught in the claws of a diving bird of prey, dangling in its grip, out of his comfortable, known habitat and unable to breathe.

The area directly outside the cave he had been living in was dark, but it didn’t take long for lights to appear around them. All the colours of the rainbow, glowing softly from darting schools of fish, slowly drifting strands of kelp, and an ever increasing number of coral forms sprouting from dark stones. The coral grew larger, congregated, and formed a wall of reef.

Ed’s lungs began to burn as they turned along the wall. His hands squeezed shut around Stede’s in a panicky spasm. Bubbles trailed from his lips, whisked away by the water rushing past him. Fear stabbed through him, the sudden certainty that Stede was going to watch him drown. How could he be so stupid?

But then they turned. Stede’s tail beat the water and pushed them beneath the shelf of the reef. The light was dimmer here, but Ed could see the rippling mirrored pools collected on the rocky surface. Fine bubbles trailed from his lips and seemed to splash into the puddle. He kicked hard, surging towards it, only for Stede to hold him back with one strong hand. A panicked glare, eased when Stede pushed his hand into the space. It vanished up to the wrist, then the mid-forearm. Stede nodded, and Ed broke the surface with a cough.

Ed’s forehead bumped against the back of Stede’s wrist. After taking a ragged breath, the ache in his chest easing, he blinked the sea water from his eyes and squinted around the small space. Stede’s hand was braced against a spear of stone, protecting Ed from smacking his head into the point. Gratitude flooded him, warm and soft, and he felt guilty for ever doubting. He rested his forehead on Stede’s wrist, managing to resist the urge to press his lips to the soft spot at the base of Stede’s thumb. Only just, but still.

“Thank you,” he murmured. Closing his eyes, floating weightless, the salty air stinging his lips as he took slow breaths. A long moment, enough for his breath to flow easily and the ache in his chest to subside completely. He took another deep breath, then ducked back underwater and held his hands ready to be dragged away.

Stede didn’t hesitate. Gripping Ed tight, he took off again. Now that Ed knew there would be chances to breathe, he focused more on the sensation. Stede’s tail churned, the current tugging at Ed’s legs as they powered through the water.

Together they crested the reef, sailing into open water. Far above, the surface roiled and crashed. There was no sign of the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Ed considered asking Stede to take him there, then decided not to. When night fell, they would make their way there. Dropping his eyes, his gaze followed the arches of coral down into a sandy valley housing a large forest of drifting kelp.

He was just beginning to feel the pressing urge to breathe again when Stede dipped into the valley and beneath an enormous brain coral. Another mirrored puddle was collected on the underside, and this time Ed reached his own hand up and explored the space hidden behind. No crags, but not a lot of space either. He surfaced with just his face, aware that his whole head wouldn’t fit.

“We’re very close,” Stede said. Despite being submerged in water, his voice was just the same. “And then in only an hour or two it will be night.”

“And we can storm the castle,” Ed said. He snorted laughter, only to cough up the dribble of seawater that snuck into the corner of his mouth. The surprise of it dipped him beneath the surface, and Stede put a concerned hand on his arm. Ed waved him off, kicked off enough to put his face back into the air bubble, and took a long, steadying breath. “Give me a minute, then I’ll be good to go.”

Stede didn’t respond, but Ed was sure that he was nodding enthusiastically. How he knew this, he wasn’t sure, but he did all the same. The image brought a smile to his face, made his heart beat just a little harder in his chest.

When he was ready, he ducked beneath the surface and was immediately grabbed by Stede again. Whisked away towards the kelp forest. They deftly weaved through the tall trunks and into a small clearing. There were rough structures built from stones and weaved together with living kelp. Ed caught a glimpse of Jim, dark hair floating in a cloud around them as they watched from a window. Oluwande popped up beside them, offering a sunny smile and friendly wave. Buttons floated lazily nearby, untethered to anything, with Karl scuttling back and forth across his stomach, alongside the biggest rainbow shrimp that Ed had ever seen in his life. Liv, he presumed. Other merfolk were swimming around this little village. He recognised Roach, but the others were unfamiliar to him.

He didn’t get a chance to catalogue them before Stede pulled him into one of the buildings. Inside was lined with glowing algae, and the roof was completely taken up by another mirrored puddle. Stede didn’t hesitate to pop his head through, and considering he didn’t jolt or fall immediately back into the water with blood gushing from a split forehead, Ed felt comfortable following. The air bubble was large enough that he could comfortably fit his entire torso upright inside with only the top of his head brushing the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths to ease the ache in his chest, before smiling.

“So, this is your house?”

“Yes.” Stede smiled a little shyly. The water dripping down his face shone in the light coming off the algae, highlighting the soft lines of his face. Ed reached out one hand, brushed away a lock of golden hair. Grinned at the flush that rose in Stede’s cheeks.

“I love it,” Ed said softly. “Did you put all this air here yourself?”

Stede’s blush intensified, so concentrated that Ed thought he could feel the heat of it radiating onto his hand. “Yes,” Stede said eventually. “It took me forever.”

Ed looked at the air-filled pocket that had taken up, he realised now, a good third of Stede’s habitable space. Imagined the trips Stede must have taken, back and forth from the surface, trailing bubbles behind him as he’d gone. Thought of all the effort it must have taken. And, again, had to hold himself back from leaning forward to kiss Stede square on the mouth.

Chapter Text

Nightfall came with a dimming of the light filtering in from beneath the air bubble. Ed filled his lungs again, and allowed Stede to pull him out into the open. The other merfolk were nowhere to be seen, the village dark, and he watched the glimmer of the coral brighten with each brush of the current as they passed. They rose gradually to the surface, Ed allowing air to drain from his lips in a silvery trail. Bursting through the surface together, they looked up at the night sky. The stars were strange, sitting in unfamiliar constellations, seeming to visibly circle the enormous silver moon that sat low on the horizon. Ed blinked, rubbed his eyes, tried to orientate himself. Some of the reef extended above the water, shining with its innate light.

“The ship isn’t far,” Stede said. “I thought you may want to swim on the surface instead of holding your breath the whole way.”

So thoughtful. Stede was actually thinking of Ed’s needs. Though Ed wasn’t sure why he was surprised at this point, he still felt a flush of warm pleasure that started in his cheeks and pooled low in his stomach. “I’d like that,” he managed through a wide—and, he was sure, dopey—smile.

“Excellent.” Stede rolled in the water, his tail flicking droplets up into the cool night air. “If you hold my shoulders I can get us there quicksmart.”

Ed’s eyes roamed over the expanse of Stede’s back, the broad shoulders, the soft, rounded curves at his hips where his skin began to change into scales, the gentle golden gleam of his gills. When Ed reached out, his hands landed instead on the base of Stede’s spine, putting the slightest pressure so his fingertips could feel the powerful muscles beneath a layer of soft flesh. Similar to his own stomach and hips, signs of his age. He appreciated them in Stede’s body now, aware of how intensely he was blushing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting his hands enough to hook them onto Stede’s shoulders. “S’dark.”

“Quite alright,” Stede said. Maybe he was blushing, Ed couldn’t tell.

Before he could examine any further, Stede’s tail flicked and they began to power through the water. Ed kept his head above the water, wind combing through his beard and salt stinging his eyes. The Queen Anne’s Revenge emerged from the mist, familiar lines and beams highlighted in silver light from the crescent moon. She was stranded, not rocking gently with the tide as she usually did, instead standing eerily still. Ed’s heart panged with longing for his old life, the memory of all his years spent at the helm. He had carved out his own destiny there, forgone the expectations of his youth, made himself a legend.

Stede slowed as they approached the stern of the ship. The wake of the ocean closed behind them, the waves settling into gentle undulations. Above them, the windows of his cabin flickered with candlelight. Without another word, Stede covered his mouth and nose, and his light dimmed until he was completely dark.

“Hold on,” Stede said. Ed’s hands sank into the muscle of Stede’s shoulders, eyes wide and mouth pressed tightly shut, as they both surged out of the water. Straight up, further than Ed would have thought possible. Stede’s hands caught onto the beam just below the windows, lifting them up until they could both peek through.

The room was empty, of people, at least. Lit candelabras stood on each flat surface, shining flickering light on a variety of trinkets that Ed had gathered during his travels, and also dangerously close to rolled pieces of paper, handbound books, and maps of every inch of the ocean he’d crossed.

“You’ve got a lot of candles,” Stede said. “Seems like a bit of overkill.”

Ed flushed. “We don’t all glow, mate. Some of us need help to see in the dark.”

The soft hum that Stede made showed he had clearly never considered it. “I like your skulls.”

“Thanks,” Ed said. He wrapped one arm around the front of Stede’s chest, leaning his chin on a broad shoulder. “How do we get in?”

“I’ve been just flopping up on the deck when everyone’s asleep,” Stede said softly. There was a momentary pause, wherein Ed’s thumb found the ridge of scar on Stede’s upper arm and traced it lightly. “Probably not the best plan at this juncture.”

Ed, still leaning his head on Stede’s shoulder, chewed on his lower lip. “Can you get us around to the bunk? I’ve got a sneaky way in.”

“Can do.” And Stede did. He swung them around the ship, the very tip of his tail grazing the ocean beneath them. Ed clung to his shoulders as he did, admiring the ease in the movement, until they were just beneath the window over his bed.

Edward clambered up and over, briefly kneeling on Stede’s shoulder as he fiddled with the window. The catch here was loose, barely functional anymore, and with a firm rattle he was able to dislodge it.

“Ed, wait,” Stede said. He dangled with one hand for a moment, dropping out of Ed’s sight, before holding up his satchel. “For our illicit wares.”

Snorting laughter, Ed took the satchel and draped it over his shoulder. “Thanks, mate.” He turned, stepped back into his old life.

The cabin smelled of smoke, leather, oil. He pushed through the webs of memory that threatened to snare him, focusing on pilfering what he could. There were bottles stacked by his desk, full of rum, kept at the ready in case of his return. He took a long swallow from one, then put two others in the satchel. The alcohol loosened his muscles, soothed his nerves. He added one of his favourite journals, a skull encrusted with wax. There was a bag of oranges sitting beneath his smoking chair, the sharp smell of citrus still lingering like a cloud. He tore into one, eyes watering slightly at the tartness of the slightly under ripe fruit. Still, it quieted his stomach enough that he could focus. He pulled the bag free, then froze at the sharp chime of a bell.

Running footsteps from outside, Izzy’s booted feet, as familiar to him as the smell of this room. Ed sprang into action immediately, sprinting for the window. The cabin door slammed open just as he dove, sailing through the open window and into the ocean below.

Stede was there to meet him, catching him, swinging him away from the jagged outcropping of coral. Ed laughed, a cloud of bubbles. Gripped the back of Stede’s neck. Rode the surge of adrenaline, followed where it led, and pulled the merman in for a deep, passionate kiss beneath the waves.

Chapter Text

Just as quickly as he had initiated the kiss, Edward pulled away. His face was bright red, his heart hammering in his throat, and he found he couldn’t meet Stede’s eyes.

“Blimey,” Stede mumbled. “Is that some sort of…human thing?”

Ed, unable to talk beneath the waves, shook his head and flapped one hand in dissent. Doesn’t matter, the gesture said. Don’t worry about it.

Embarrassed, he spun in the water, kicking for the surface, only to have his arm caught in Stede’s grasp. A short tug brought him down, close enough to see the smile on Stede’s face, the roses in his cheeks.

“I liked it,” Stede said, eyes searching Ed’s face. “I would like to do it again.”

Ed’s grip loosened, the bags drifting away. Palms caught Stede’s cheeks. Thumbs brushed over his cheekbones, soft as butterfly wings. Edward pulled Stede closer, their lips meeting. The taste of salt mingled with oranges. Stede’s arms enfolded Ed, held him close. The sensation was overwhelming, and incredible all at once. Of all the kisses in Ed’s life, this was, by far, the best.

Only the burning of Ed’s lungs brought him back to his senses. He pulled away, gasping ocean water into his mouth, and Stede pushed him up to the surface. He emerged coughing and spitting, taking huge gulps of the cool night air.

Too late, he realised his mistake.

“Blackbeard!”

A name that had almost lost all meaning to him. He blinked upwards, blearily, grimacing when he saw Izzy’s face looming from the deck. Dread creeping through him as Izzy was joined by Fang, then Ivan, then the rest of the crew.

“Fuck,” Ed said. He looked down, searching the water, his heart skipping a beat when he realised that Stede’s glow was nowhere to be seen. “Stede?”

A huge splash beside him, distracting him from the absence of any merfolk nearby. Izzy surfaced with a cough, treading water clumsily. “We thought you were dead, captain,” he said. There was fear in his eyes as he looked at Ed, a sight that was oddly comforting. “Quick, let’s get you on board.”

Ed cast another look down into the ocean. The glow of the reef was barely visible, with no other signs of life below. No fish, no sharks, and no Stede. Grief hit Ed hard, sapping him of strength. He allowed Izzy to wrap an arm around his chest and drag him towards the ship. He was pulled up onto the deck and left in a sodden heap.

“You’re alive,” Fang said. He dabbed at Ed’s forehead with a scrap of cloth, tenderly, with a smile on his face. Guilt stabbed into Ed’s gut at seeing it. The fear that his crew had held for him, the certainty that he had been dead. The chill of the ocean hit him all at once, and he started to shiver.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a thin smile onto his face. “Sorry about that. I was…indisposed.”

“That storm was a rough one,” Ivan said. When he lifted his hands, his palms still looked a little raw, an ongoing reminder of his grappling with the wheel. Clearly, Ivan had done as Ivan often did, and pushed himself harder than his injuries had allowed too soon, not giving himself time to heal. Ed wondered if he could get a hand on the anemone Roach had used to treat Stede’s wound, if that might help.

He pushed the thought away.

“Are you alright, captain?” Izzy asked. There was something in his tone that set Ed’s teeth on edge, but he pushed that feeling away as well.

“Never better.” Ed pulled himself to his feet, gathering his shirt and wringing it out. Water splashed on his bare feet, warmed from his body. “Now…what’s the plan?”

Silence, a few shifted looks back and forth. Izzy fidgeted with his belt, grimacing the way he always did when he didn’t want to admit an answer. In direct comparison, Fang and Ivan had exchanged a glance that, now that he thought of it, reminded Ed considerably of Oluwande and Jim.

“You don’t have a plan,” Ed said, focusing his attention on Izzy, who quailed under his gaze.

“Not…exactly,” Izzy conceded. “We were mulling.”

Ed groaned, leaned against the railing. Unable to help casting a quick glance into the water. Darkness, as he’d expected. Still, it jabbed at him again. He turned pointedly away from the ocean. Fang was now twiddling his fingers together, casting wide eyes at Ivan.

“Do you have something to add?” Ed asked, overcome with weariness.

“Well,” Ivan said. Slowly, uncertainly.

Fang took over. “The full moon should bring a big high tide come dawn…”

“Which will lift us high enough off the reef that we can start moving,” Ivan said.

“And then all we need to do is sail straight until we clear…wherever this is,” Fang finished.

Edward mulled it over. Looked at the sky, with its whirling stars and enormous full moon, the absolute lack of clouds. There was a breeze, very gentle coming off the waves, but he thought it would be enough to get them moving.

“Good plan,” he said, appreciatively. Fang flushed with pleasure, and Ivan squeezed his fist in a gesture of triumph. “Get it all set up then.”

“And you, captain?” Izzy asked, sounding a little panicked. He had never done well without guidance. He got too intensely wrapped up in his own mind, his own insecurities. Which often led to lashing out, viciousness, superiority.

Ed shot him the smarmiest grin he could muster, holding both hands out and dipping his head. “I’ll be in my cabin, having a nap. Toodles!”

Before Izzy could stop him, Edward strode across the deck and into his cabin, slamming the door shut tight behind him.

Chapter Text

The full moon tide was indeed enough to lift the Queen Anne’s Revenge off the reef. Edward stood in his cabin, leaning against the window, watching the ship rock as her belly floated free. From the deck, he could hear Fang’s voice rallying the crew, his tone gentle and encouraging. So different from the abrasive snarling Izzy usually employed. The ship’s movements were delicate, precise, and Ed knew that Ivan was at the helm.

Each creak and list of the ship as they gained speed was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. His stance shifted to compensate with every lurch, keeping him steady. Heavy clouds rolled in, obscuring the strange, whirling constellations. The moon would not be hidden though. Her silver light was as bright as midday, gleaming on the wake of the Queen Anne’s Revenge passage through these uncharted waters. Ed watched, unable to stop himself searching for gold in the waves.

Stupid. Why would there be? He remembered how the merfolk looked at him, their curiosity. He’d been a side show for them. There couldn’t have been many humans in this part of the world, so the sight of him must have been fascinating. But humans were dangerous, too. The scar on Stede’s arm was proof of that. Humans had weapons, a vicious streak, so why on earth would Stede willingly follow a whole boat full of them?

Just because Ed was there?

Foolishness.

Ed sank into his bunk, groaned. Fished up a bottle of rum and took a deep swig. Sinking into the sensation, and welcoming the blurring of his consciousness.

And so it was. For weeks. Months.

Izzy had spent it all fretting outside the cabin door, trying to coax Edward back into the open. However, Fang and Ivan were keeping things running just fine without his help, so Ed didn’t see why he should bother. It was a stark reminder of how bored he had been, how tired of the whole situation. This life wasn’t fulfilling, or fun, or exciting. He was over it.

Now, the full moon was hanging low overhead. As big as Edward had ever seen it. Clouds thin as tissue paper drifted across the sky, glowing silver.

The crew was asleep, scattered over the deck. Ed stepped over and around them, bare feet clumping on the swollen wooden boards with no thought of how loud he was being, wearing only a pair of leather trousers. He wasn’t drunk. First time for…longer than he cared to admit. The residual hangover he had woken up with earlier that night had faded to the point that it was only an irritated twinge above his left eyebrow. In his hand, a bottle dangled from his grip and rum sloshed inside, enticing. He could taste it already, spiced heat lingering at the back of his palate.

His knee twinged as he swung himself up onto the wooden railing. A cool breeze drifted off the Pacific, lifted the silver hair at his temples and ruffled through his salt and pepper beard. He leaned into the sensation, rope wrapped around his wrist, swinging out and over the water. Soaring, weightless.

Usually, when he stood like this, he kept his eyes on the sky. Mapping out the stars, analysing the clouds, imagining he was flying. Now, though, something drew his eyes down. To the waves, the dark, undulating water beneath him. Combing the depths.

He spotted a glimmer, the faintest hint of golden light.

Heart thudding hard in his chest, a wide grin spread over his face. Did he trust his eyes? His heart? Did he trust Stede?

Of course. With the tides and the moon.

He loosened his grip, allowed the rope to slither from his grip. Falling into the water with his arms open wide.

Stede was there. To catch him in strong arms, to draw him closer, to enfold him.

“I don’t want to live up there,” Ed said, his voice muffled by the water. “I want to be with you.”

Stede’s scales brightened, his cheeks flushed. “I’d love that.” He brushed Ed’s hair off his face, fingertips trailing to tangle in the wild, untamed mess of his beard. “I can maybe make it happen…”

“Please.” Bubbles trailed from Ed’s lips as he said the word, eyes fixed on Stede’s. It was all he’d ever wanted.

Stede turned and began to dive. His tail left golden trails in the water behind them as the darkness closed in. Their arms entwined, chests pressed together. Edward tried hard not to panic when his chest began to burn for oxygen. The burning concentrated in the bases of his lungs, intensifying into bands. Then slices. He gritted his teeth against the pain, hands clamping tight on Stede’s shoulders. When they reached the sandy bottom, visible only from the glow from Stede’s tail, they parted. Ed floated in the deep, darkness, weightless and lost.

“The first merfolk rose from the drowned,” Stede said softly. “I can help you become one of us.” A long pause, where Ed’s heart beat so hard in his chest he felt the water vibrate around him. The sensation of Stede’s hand on his chest, warmer than the cool water around him. “Breathe,” Stede murmured.

Ed did. Cool water slid down his throat and into his chest. Then out of his chest. Through his ribs. He looked down and saw silvery slits in his chest. They parted as he took another breath, glowed like the moon on the waves. The burning hadn’t faded. Instead it moved, down his limbs, into his hands and feet. He watched, wide-eyed, as fins delicate as tissue burst from his skin, webbed his fingers and toes.

He was not a merman. Not like Stede was. He was something new.

“You can still go back,” Stede said. “But now…you can also come with me.”

Ed flexed his fins, took a deep breath of the ocean. Then swam to Stede, his movements clumsy and uncertain. He hooked both hands around the back of Stede’s neck, drawing himself close.

“Lead the way,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep some human shit around, though?”

“Not at all,” Stede said, earnestly. “It’s important for you to feel at home.”

“Good.” Ed grinned, a touch wickedly, leaning forward until their lips touched. When he continued, the gentle brushing pressure against his almost drove him mad. “I don’t want to give this up.” Their mouths slotted together, as though they were made for each other, and despite the action being apparently completely foreign to merfolk in general, Stede returned the kiss just fine.

Chapter Text

Of all the myths and legends that came from the golden age of piracy, perhaps the most intriguing was the story of Teach’s Light. A phenomenon that began to be reported after the disappearance—and supposed death—of Blackbeard.

Ships sailing at night, perhaps navigating unfamiliar waters, would often see lights glimmering in the distance, flashing above the waves. Gold or silver.

The stories spread through docks over the world, low voices murmured in shadowy corners, pirates and sailors alike telling the tale of their encounter. Those with the most fearless reputations would tell of how they followed the light, tracked it beneath the full moon until it vanished into the darkness.

It was them who told the tales that the light led to Blackbeard’s lost treasure. That if someone could follow it to the end of the trail, could drop below the waves at that spot, they would find Edward Teach’s ship and the looted gold within. Never mind that the Queen Anne’s Revenge still carved her path of terror through the seas, helmed by incredibly effective co-captains, or that there had been no record of Blackbeard losing any significant amount of loot overboard to be claimed by the sea.

Despite this, the stories weren’t exactly wrong. Just misguided.

In truth, if one were to be able to catch up to the light and sink beneath the waves, they would find Edward Teach’s greatest treasure.

The golden tail of the merman he loved. The silver fins lining his own limbs. Flashing in the moonlight as they swam together. Forever.