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Caroline
Caroline comes into his life at an easier time (one thing he’d learnt quickly is that nothing in life was easy). She’s all lush curves and flowing hair and Edward’s pretty sure he was in love with her from the moment he laid eyes on her.
He throws himself into bed that night, exhausted, dreading working at the farm tomorrow. Right as he’s about to drift off to sleep, there’s a tap at the window. It reminds him of what Caroline had done three weeks ago, throwing rocks against his window until he came down. They’d walked around the deserted town that night as she’d told him how desperately she didn’t want to marry Hague. He’d kissed her on the waterfront, and after a moment’s hesitation, she kissed him back.
Now, he hauls himself out of bed with some reluctance that disappears immediately when he sees Caroline standing below his window again. He grins at her, and she smiles back.
“Can I come up?” she calls to him in her lovely, lovely voice and suddenly, it doesn’t matter how tired Edward is. He nods, and it’s just a moment before she slips into his room.
This isn't the norm between them, though, and Edward's concern spikes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just...” She trails off, staring at him longingly. “Wanted to see you.”
“Oh,” he replies softly, all the words suddenly gone out of him at her gaze. The moment hangs heavy between them before Caroline crosses the room and kisses him, her mouth wet and hot beneath his. She pushes him back against the bed until he’s lying on his back and she’s on top of him and she’s still kissing him.
After a moment, she pulls away.
“Oh,” Edward says with much more feeling this time, and Caroline gives him a smile that shows her teeth. She reaches up to undo the stays on her dress.
“Are you sure?” Edward rests his hands on her hips. Whenever they’d managed to meet in the past month, there was always a lot of kissing and touching and a desperate want for more that was eventually stopped by one of them, both too aware that Caroline was still promised to Hague.
“I’m sure." She opens the front of the dress and leans down to kiss him again.
Afterwards, Edward thinks he’ll die from how much he loves her.
Ben
Everything he knows about sex, he learns from Ben.
Ben couldn’t have been more different than Caroline. With her, he thought he’d done well enough but it quickly came to light that his education was sorely lacking.
It’s a slow start between them, much slower than it was with Caroline. For one, Ben’s a man and while Edward might have heard tale of what sailors get up to while they’re out at sea, it’s never something he considered for himself.
Ben took a liking to Edward, something he’s thankful for because he’s picked up a lot in the few months he’s been on the ship, and an easy camaraderie formed between them; ‘Hornigold’ slowly became ‘Ben’ as ‘Kenway’ became ‘Edward.’ But it takes him a while to understand what’s happening between them after all the late nights discussing tactical approaches and practicing swordsmanship. Sometimes, Ben brushes too close to him, or breaks apart too quickly, or doesn’t meet his eyes when they’re around the crew. Sometimes, he catches Ben looking at him in a way he doesn’t know how to interpret.
Edward’s not losing as many fights as he used to anymore.
It’s a balmy summer evening and they’re anchored at Port Royal. Most of the men, including Thatch, are on the island, in the ale house or the brothel. Edward didn’t much feel like the raucous company it offered, so he’d hung back, drinking on the lower deck, looking up at the stars.
He hears footsteps and glances up to see Ben standing there.
“Thought you might want a bout, but I see you’re already impaired beyond what you manage naturally,” Ben says, leaning against the hull.
“I can hold my liquor just fine, which is more than you can say." He extends the bottle to Ben anyway. He takes it gratefully and takes a long draught from it before handing it back. They both recognise rum is one of the better things in life.
“Thought you’d be out there,” Edward remarks, nodding his head in the direction of the island. “Don’t you superior officers have to see the powers that be so they can make sure you’re still on their leash?”
Ben scowls. “They’ve requested mine and Thatch’s company first thing in the morning.”
“More’s the pity for you, then.”
They fall into a comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth between them.
“You’ve a wife, don’t you? Is that why you’re not out there?” Edward looks over at him with some surprise at the question.
He doesn’t tend to advertise the fact that he’s technically married given the terms he left on. She’s also something he tries not to think about, not because of any vows he might have broken (He, like most officers with respectable wives back in England, had slept with whores while serving in the navy) but because he doesn’t like to dwell on the past. He’s made too many mistakes.
“Nah,” Edward says with a shrug, “just couldn’t be arsed. Besides, the drink tastes better alone.”
He grins at Ben, who holds his gaze. He looks as though he’s about to say something before he glances away, looking across the deck rather than at Edward.
Edward pauses for a moment before deciding to take his leave, not sure if it was something he said. Ben has a habit of falling into pensive silences, though normally they’re not quite as loaded as the one between them now. He pushes past when suddenly Ben catches him around the shoulders and turns him back to face him. Edward doesn’t know what to think or do, just stops breathing.
For a second, it doesn’t look as though Ben knows what to do, either. Then he pulls Edward towards him and kisses him, hard, his hand moving to the back of Edward’s neck. The kiss is short and when they break apart, Ben’s already on the defensive, his face closing off as Edward stands there, still pressed against him, mouth slightly agape.
He takes too long to react and Ben pulls away, brushing himself down and preparing to walk away as though nothing had happened.
“Wait,” Edward calls, but Ben doesn’t stop. Edward’s never been one to mince words, but right now, his heart is racing and as if he didn’t already have enough to contend with, his dick is making its interests known. “Wait!” and Ben finally stills, half turned towards Edward, half turned away.
He takes a deep breath. “Can we use your cabin?”
Ben gives him the look he uses during their bouts whenever Edward was being particularly obtuse, before nodding his head, towards his quarters, a small surprised smile spreading its way across his face.
“Come along, then.”
Edward ends up in Ben’s cabin most nights after that.
Adéwalé
With Adéwalé, it’s the most natural thing in the world.
They’ve been sailing together for months now, taking prizes together, watching their crew grow around them. Edward knows he wouldn’t be at the helm of the Jackdaw without Adé and that’s something he’s thankful for most days.
As with Ben, lingering touches had become something that just happens between them, helping the other one up or Edward slinging his arm around Adéwalé’s shoulder every other day.
Unlike with Ben, it’s something they let sit between them comfortably (not as comfortably for Edward while Adé works on the ship with the crew, naked from the waist up, but that’s his own cross to bear). Both of them notice the distance between them growing less and less, and neither of them shy away from it.
Right now, Edward’s watching a sugar plantation go up in flames with a great deal of satisfaction. "Let's go, lads!" The crew quickly moves away from the burning fields. Their numbers are bolstered by a dozen slaves while their masters’ livelihood quickly goes up in smoke.
They arrive at the docks where they’re intercepted by a group of armed men, determined to stop them from fleeing if they can’t salvage anything else. Edward drops the first one who steps in front of him without pause or thought: he has no pity for slavers.
They make it through with minimal casualties, the freed slaves looking shocked and cautious and a little bit hopeful as they watch two of his men stack supplies they liberated into the rowboat. Sometimes, he forgets his ship has provided a means of refuge for people other than himself.
“Let’s head back to her, gents!” Edward calls, and the men let out a holler as they pile into the boat. They’re yelling about a job well done, a victory they’ll be riding on for the next week or so until they hit Nassau.
Edward’s on his own high, feeling reckless and carefree and a little like God.
His blood is still thrumming as he pulls himself up onto the ship, content to let his men handle the cargo and their new crewmembers. Something about this feels significant, but he can’t quite figure out what.
He sees Adéwalé on the main deck, leaning against the side of the ship, his arms folded in that way he does, and he’s giving Edward his usual bemused smile, as if he doesn’t quite know what to make of him.
“It went well, then?” Adéwalé asks, but before Edward answers him, he’s crossed the deck and kisses Adéwalé, victorious, wanting to claim him and be claimed in return. He has no fear that Adéwalé will pull away from him, and he doesn’t, just kisses him back; the inevitability of it all has surprised neither of them.
They break apart, their faces still close together. “Surely you could have done that two weeks ago,” Adéwalé says, eyebrow quirked.
Edward grins. “You know me, Adé. I don’t always make the best decisions.”
“I hope you come back from all your battles this happy.” Adéwalé’s voice is deep, deeper than usual and there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes. He’s astonishing. Edward doesn’t know why he didn’t do this two weeks ago, either.
“I need you to come to my cabin. Right now. With me,” Edward says, his words tripping over themselves. He’s very aware of how close they’re standing together, the fact he can feel Adéwalé’s breathing. With a lot of effort, he finally pulls away, walking backwards towards his cabin.
Adéwalé follows.
The feeling of elation he normally gets after battles hasn’t faded, and that in and of itself is enough to make him pause.
Adéwalé under the door frame and very deliberately shuts it behind him. For a moment, they just stare at each other before Adéwalé’s backing him up against the bed, hands sliding under his shirt.
Edward knows how to play this game now, and rolls his hips against Adéwalé’s. Adéwalé lets out a low, deep moan and Edward smirks at him, very pleased with himself.
He realises a moment later what a mistake that was as Adéwalé pushes him down on the bed and slides his hand between Edward’s thighs.
“God, Adé,” he moans, his head tilting back and his legs falling apart and his hand coming up to grip Adéwalé’s shoulder. Edward can’t even bring himself to care about how easily he gave in, just so long as Adé keeps touching him, so long as Adé’s close to him.
It’s smooth sailing from there.
Charles
Edward and Charles fuck once. It’s full of bitterness; Charles is an angry person, Edward’s always known this. That’s why he’d stayed away before now -- he has enough anger on his own.
When they finally reach the beach, Edward does his best to salvage what he can. The Ranger, while gutted of her sails and rudder, still had barrels and water and rum aboard when it wrecked on the beach.
At some point, Charles starts yelling bloody murder at Jack again. Edward’s sick of the noise, sick of this whole situation. Marooning wasn’t a punishment he doled out as captain, nor was it something he ever considered he’d be in himself, but he's too tired to try and figure out a way out of this tonight. Nightfall is too fast approaching and all he’d managed to do was build a fire.
Vane’s still pacing along the beach, backlit by the firelight. He knows Vane blames him as much as he blames Rackham, he’s just hiding it a little better right now. Him and his stupid quest for the Observatory, something that’s coming to matter more and more to him everyday and he’s not sure how or why.
“Take a goddamn seat, Vane. There’s nothing more we can do till daybreak.” Vane swings around to glare at him before, thankfully, taking a seat beside Edward.
Edward grabs one of the bottles of rum dug into the ground beside him and passes it to Vane. Vane accepts it wordlessly and tries to down half the bottle in one go. Edward watches him a moment before joining him, ignoring the burn of the alcohol.
Eventually, Vane’s anger for him seeps through the cracks. “This is your fault, Kenway,” he sneers at him, getting to his feet in great, lumbering movements until he’s towering over Edward, fists clenched.
Edward blames it on the rum for standing up too slowly, and that fist slams into his cheek. He stumbles backwards, swearing; blood fills his mouth and he’s suddenly as rage-filled as Vane seems to be, ready to beat him into the ground and leave him to rot.
“What the fuck’s your problem?”
“You’re my fucking problem, Kenway! You and your fucking observatory and your filthy fucking lies.”
Edward knows he’s right, and lashes out, his fist slamming into Vane's chest. The air goes out of him, and Edward takes the opportunity to hit him again, while Vane’s knee drives into his thigh and his stomach and anything else he can reach. Edward grits his teeth and hits Vane again, and again until Vane’s doubled over.
Edward surveys the damage for a moment. “You’re done, mate,” he says, the fight going out of him as soon as it came. He moves to walk off Vane straightens up, goes to punch him again, misses and ends up shoving Edward as he falls himself.
Edward crashes to the ground moments later, the wind completely gone from his lungs. Vane moves beside him so he’s above him. For a moment, Edward thinks he’s going to get punched again, but then Vane leans down and covers Edward’s mouth with his.
He’s not sure if it’s the rum, or the situation they’re in, or how much he wants to feel something right now (probably all three) but he kisses Vane back, biting his lip and pressing up into him.
That seems to be all the permission Vane needs. He pins Edward’s hands above his head with one hand, his other moving in rough-clumsy-frantic movements between them. Edward doesn’t mind rough, he’s done rough before, but never like this, so he just gives himself over to the feelings.
It’s the least he could do.
The next day, Vane recoils away from him. It’s like something’s broken in him, and as Edward watches him retract further and further into himself, he can’t help but think that it was him that did this. He breaks everything he touches, and Vane’s no exception.
By the time he escapes, Edward’s rewritten the narrative entirely until he’s all at blame.
Mary
Even before he knew she was a woman, Edward was attracted to Mary.
There was something about the way she was so sure footed, wearing her confidence as well as any man, if not better. She was one of the few people who’d ever made Edward feel clumsy and ungainly, and he couldn’t stop looking at James Kidd, even when he tried.
By the time she’d shaken her hair out, he was a little surprised, a little disappointed and mostly awestruck by the person sitting beside him.
“Your name’s not James, is it?” he asks, for want of something better to say. Sitting there with her, the island spread out in front of him is a peaceful moment, the likes of which he hasn’t seen in months.
She gives him a soft smile. “Not most days, no.” She slips off the roof without a sound, landing lightly on the ground before turning back to smirk at him. “Are you coming, then?”
Edward pulls his hood up and follows her in a heartbeat.
Months later, he’s lying on the island, trying not to go mad, trying not to think of her parting words. See you ain’t pulled into the drink like this drowning rat.
He’s not doing a very good job of either.
Seeing her and Adéwalé again feels like a salvation he doesn’t deserve.
He’s far too aware of how he keeps shying away from Adéwalé’s touches and Mary’s questioning gaze but he can’t stop it, until Mary raps on the wood in front of him and forces him to meet her eyes.
“So what now? Still chasing your elusive fortune?” she asks, same old gently-mocking-tone they’ve always had between them and Edward’s just so goddamn glad for her.
He takes a deep breath and a drink and forces the part of his mind that’s still trapped on the island with Vane into a deeper, darker place, where he doesn’t have to look at it.
When he replies, it’s wooden and mechanical, something she’d expect him to say. Maybe if he goes through the motions long enough, he’ll feel like himself again.
She’s not pleased. “Put your ambition to better use, Kenway,” she says and Edward’s not sure he’s ever had someone so aggressively believing in him. Caroline doubted him, Ben trained and abandoned him, Adéwalé had a read on him from the second they met, and so never expected more from Edward than what he was willing to give but Mary. Mary pushed and pushed and didn’t know when to stop pushing.
Being caught between this almost-belief in her words, and what’s easiest, what he’s always done, always leaves Edward feeling on edge.
“I've no stomach for you and your mystics, Mary,” he hisses, stepping away from the table so he doesn’t have to see her face. “I want a taste of the good life. An easy life,” and he takes a deep swig of rum, trying to drown out her words and expectations and how good she is.
She doesn’t say anything until he glances up. “No one honest has an easy life, Edward,” and her voice is full of pity, pity for him, and he resents her for that. “And it’s aching for one that causes the most pain.”
She walks off and Edward is left feeling more heartbroken and alone than when he was on the island.
Their relationship was built on ideological differences, though, and so Edward knows it’s okay when he slinks to the inn where she’s staying, where they all stay, later that night. The rum’s long worn off and Edward still can’t quite trust the sounds of island around him but he needs to be with someone so he knows at least some of this is real.
He knocks on the door, then opens it before she can reply. She’s sitting on the bed, window wide open to the bay where their Jackdaw sits (it might be his in name but it’s all of theirs, together) and clear-cold-moonlight pouring into the room.
“You right there, Kenway?” she asks when he says nothing, and he forces himself to move across the room until he’s sitting beside her.
“Not really, no,” and he pushes a laugh into his voice, as if this is all a big-fucking-joke and his mind’s not falling apart, piece by piece.
She reaches across to his lap with her small, strong hands, as weatherbeaten as his, and links them with hers, before pulling Edward towards her.
His breath catches. He hasn’t had a woman since before Ben, but Mary’s different. She’s small and lithe and beautiful and he doesn’t deserve her, not at all, but she’s giving him that soft smile of hers again and she’s telling him it’s going to be okay.
Afterwards, Edward knows he would die for her, in a heartbeat.
Anne
The two of them are like ships set adrift, gracelessly brushing against each other. At this point, there’s no one Edward would rather have at his side, but there are these great gaps between them, lost history and missing pieces.
They set sail, leaving Nassau behind for the last time; they make small talk with Jennifer and answer her questions about the ship, and Edward even musters a smile when she tells him that she wants to be like Anne someday. But it’s hollow and raw between them, him and Anne (and it’s never been just Edward and Anne before now) and he finds himself ducking her gaze.
Anne comes to him, heartsick, in the middle of the night. In a way, he’s glad she did because he was considering finding the edge of the ship, but he’s a father now and that wouldn’t be allowed.
Neither of them talk. He just pulls her down onto the bed, and they lie there, curled into each other until neither of them can cry any longer, and the day breaks.