Chapter Text
Ed had been enjoying a rare stretch of quiet when the shouting started. They had become stuck in port at the Republic of Pirates while the Queen Anne underwent repairs after a storm that had rattled planks and rigging alike.
Naturally, the quiet didn't last. The shouting carried straight through the cabin door, Izzy’s voice, sharp with fury. Another voice layered over it that absolutely didn't belong on a pirate ship. Too polite, too bright and almost cheerful.
There was a thud, the scrape of boots, the soft skitter of something hitting the floor. Something struck the wall.
Ed sighed and stood.
When he opened the door, Izzy had a fist twisted in a stranger’s lapel, hauling him close like he meant to shake sense into him. A notebook lay open on the floorboards, its pages fluttering, a quill rolling beside it.
“What now,” Ed said.
“This fucking imbecile walked straight up the gangway,” Izzy snapped, face flushed. “Demanded an audience with Blackbeard. When I told him no, he just went looking for you anyway. I was about to haul him off and kill him.”
Ed looked past Izzy’s rage and took in the imbecile in question.
Silk cuffs and lace at the throat. A coat in a shade too colourful for a man who walked around the Republic of Pirates. Hair neatly styled, hands soft-looking and ink-stained. Clean, floral scent that had no business being aboard the Queen Anne.
Handsome.
Annoyingly so.
And strangely he didn't look like was afraid, not even a little. Just irritated, staring at Izzy with open disdain.
“Well?” Ed said lightly. “Let our guest speak.”
Izzy glared at him like he was the imbecile now, but he released the stranger and stepped back, simmering.
The man straightened his coat, smoothed himself down, retrieved his composure, then smiled at Ed as if this were a dinner invitation rather than the brink of execution.
“Stede Bonnet,” he said, bowing with careful dignity. “Of the Barbadian Bonnet family. Writer and independent scholar.”
Ed watched him closely. There was no fear, no hesitation. Just eagerness, bright and slightly unhinged. He let his gaze roam over Stede at an unhurried pace, openly appraising him without any attempt at discretion, before it finally snagged on a fresh tear at the cuff of his coat.
Ed raised a brow and smirked. “Brave profession.”
"Eyes flicked pointedly to the silk and lace before returning to Stede’s face. “Especially dressed like that,” he added.
Stede followed his look, noticed the tear, and flushed faintly before smoothing the fabric as if he could will it back into place.
“I’ve found it can be,” he said cheerfully.
He bent to retrieve his notebook and quill, brushing dust from the pages with far more care than Ed had ever seen anyone treat paper.
“I’m in the process of conducting a formal study,” he said, brightening. “Field research, you might say. It will form the basis of a book titled A Gentleman’s Guide to Piracy.”
Izzy scoffed under his breath.
“It isn’t a self-help guide,” Stede added quickly, flushing just a touch. "It's an academic examination of pirate culture and conduct.”
He glanced at Ed, hopeful. “I’ve been on the Republic of Pirates for several days interviewing, but I’ve had… limited success.”
“That tends to happen when you bother people who make a living at violence,” Ed said dryly.
Stede smiled, entirely unoffended.
“I thought…well. If one were to study piracy properly, one should consult the gold standard,” he said, indicating Ed with a small, almost theatrical sweep of his hand. “Blackbeard.”
Ed waited for the punchline. But the silence stretched just long enough for the realisation to sink in. He wasn’t joking.
Gentleman Stede Bonnet was entirely serious.
“Bold of you,” Ed said. “Walking onto my ship like that.”
“I assumed you’d be impressed by my gumption,” Stede replied, eyes bright with a touch of mischief.
Izzy bristled. “Impressed—”
Ed lifted a hand, eyes still on Stede.
Stede met his gaze openly with no hesitation. Just interest and a reckless kind of delight that made Ed feel like a fascinating exhibit in a museum.
He clocked the details without meaning to. The softness of Stede’s hands. The clean fall of lace at his throat. The way the silk caught the light in Ed’s dark corridor. How absurdly out of place he was here, like a tropical bird in a world drained of colour.
And yet he stood there like he belonged.
No flinching. No blubbering.
That unsettled Ed more than screaming ever could.
“You don’t talk much,” Stede observed after a moment.
“You talk enough for both of us,” Ed replied, a corner of his mouth lifting despite himself.
Izzy opened his mouth as if to speak.
“Leave us,” Ed told him, not looking away from Stede.
Izzy hesitated. “Ed—”
“Now.”
Izzy stormed off, muttering under his breath.
Ed stepped aside and gestured toward the cabin. “Come in, then. Let’s hear your terms, Mr. Bonnet, of the Barbadian Bonnet family.”
Stede stepped past him, notebook hugged to his chest.
As he passed, Ed caught his scent again. Soap. Ink. Something faintly sweet.
He told himself he only noticed because it was strange, not because he liked it.
Inside the cabin, Stede looked around with open fascination.
“So, what exactly are you proposing?” Ed asked.
“One hour a day,” Stede said eagerly. “For one week while your ship is being repaired, one-on-one. I’ll ask questions, take notes, and then I’ll leave you in peace. You’d be contributing to a definitive study on piracy.”
“And that includes me, as the subject,” Ed said slowly.
Stede smiled, just a little. “Blackbeard,” he agreed. Then, after a beat, “And the man beneath the legend, if he’s willing.”
Ed stared at him. Watched Stede watching him.
It felt like standing under a microscope.
Stede wasn’t looking at Blackbeard like a threat. And Ed didn't quite know what to do with someone who found the Blackbeard myth fascinating rather than terrifying.
And somehow, worse.
Like a person.
Ed leaned back against his desk, studying the man in return.
He should have laughed. Or ordered Izzy to throw him overboard. Or done it himself.
Instead, he felt something twist in his chest. Curiosity. Amusement. A flicker of something warmer and more dangerous that he refused to name.
“You’re not scared of me,” Ed said.
Stede blinked. “Should I be?”
He sounded genuinely curious, which was unsettling.
Ed let out a quiet, humourless huff. “Most men are. Haven’t you heard what I’ve done?”
Stede watched him closely.
Ed ticked it off like a ledger. “They say I’ve sunk a dozen ships in a single night. That I’ve taken entire ports without firing a shot and killed more men than the sea. That I raid faster than the navy can sail, that I never sleep, that I’ve died three times.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Supposedly there’s not a man alive who could keep up with me.” He looked at Stede, daring him to flinch.
“You speak like someone who’s lived a hundred lives,” Stede said, studying him with a frankness that would have gotten most men stabbed.
“Feels like it,” Ed said. The words surprised him as they left his mouth.
He covered it with a crooked grin, as if he’d meant it to sound clever rather than true.
“So,” Ed said, leaning back against his desk, lips quirking. “You want to sit in my cabin for an hour a day to pry into the life and crimes of the great Blackbeard.”
Stede brightened. “With your permission, yes. I’ll do my best not to be intrusive.”
Ed snorted. “You’ve already failed that.”
Stede flushed, but didn’t retreat. “One week,” he said hopeful. “I won’t interfere with your command or your work. I’ll simply ask questions.”
Ed studied him. The nerve. The polish. The ridiculous, shining courage of walking onto Blackbeard’s ship with nothing but a notebook and a smile.
He should’ve thrown him out.
Instead, something in him stirred. Curiosity. Boredom. Loneliness. A dangerous interest he refused to name.
He was so utterly bewildered by this enthusiastic, posh lunatic that he decided to play along, just to see how far Stede would go.
“One week,” Ed said at last. “You get your hour a day. After that, you’re on your way.”
Stede’s face lit up. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Ed said, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “You might regret asking.”
Stede only smiled.
Later, long after Stede had left, Ed had the uneasy sense he’d just opened something he wouldn’t be able to close again.