gentleman pirate.

#cptbonnet.     an    independent,    selective,    exclusive    blog    for   stede bonnet    as    seen    in    our flag means death.   written     by     lyddy.    affiliated    with    blackbearde. 

                            and just like that,    the revenge’s captain has returned.    all too late and fresh out of excuses to give that might soften edward’s resolve.    he’d imagined this moment so many times,    each time less plausible and realistic than the last.    he’d made dozens of excuses in stede’s name.    perhaps the guard edward had bribed to wake stede up simply hadn’t held his end of the bargain.    usually,    edward had something to bargain with.    at the time,    he had no valuables in his possession,   nor leverage.     all that he was able to barter in exchange for the man’s aid were simply promises.    of wealth,    of safety.    the promise that a terrible fate would not befall he all he held near and dear to him at the hands of the great blackbeard.     words,    as edward has recently discovered,    did not mean much even to those with integrity.    after all,    he’d chosen to give his heart away to a man known for his integrity and rectitude,    and look where it got him. 

                           or perhaps they were caught on their way to the beach,    the guard forced to return to his post and stede …     a great manner of things could have happened then and edward rued his wild and boundless imagination for the kind of barbaric treatment he imagined.     somehow,    in his heart of hearts,     he knew not to give credence to any of these scenarios.     there was only one reason why the man edward had promised the whole world to did not show up.    and for this,     he did not need confirmation,    but it was nice to get it all the same.     he could have laughed at that.    nice?     he supposed it was a blessing,    that.    now he could see stede bonnet for what he truly was.     a liar and a con.    a man who fell victim to his delusions of a life worth living,    who scuttled back home to his life of luxury and comfort when faced with the prospect of real danger. 

                          edward did not back down,    he did not lower the gun.    if anything,    his grip tightened on the handle and his arm remained outstretched,     stance not wavering even as stede stepped closer.     ❛    that’s close enough, dog,    ❜     he spat,    cocking the gun.    he was in no disposition to listen to any of stede’s rambling.     it hasn’t been long - though every night he drank himself to sleep seemed to tell a different story - and yet of this he was sure.     he’d concluded he did not require any explanations.     ❛     you are an intruder on blackbeard’s ship.     what do you think we do to those?    ❜     he was aware his crew were looking,    even more so that izzy was measuring his every move,    waiting for him to make the right one at last.     for them,     he would.    for their loyalty,    for the honour that they felt to serve him.     

                         an almost imperceptible shake of his head.     a silent,    unspoken disapproval more at himself than the man who stood before him prepared to bare his all,     or so he claimed.      oh,    stede.    if i ever failed to do something,    it was to teach you to beware of monsters.    he wasn’t breathing.    he couldn’t,    even if he tried.    he emptied his mind of all distractions,    his surroundings dissolving around him into a fog.    it was just him,    the reality of a gun pressed into his hand,     stede,     and the consequences of their actions.     and love.    an abundance of love which threatened to spill over.     edward kept his eyes trained on stede’s and tried to make his peace with what he was about to do next.     he did not welcome stede into his arms like he should.    he did not ask to know what made him so unwanted.     he did not betray himself again and begged stede to stay this time,    stay a little longer,     before you leave once more.     instead,    he took aim and squeezed the trigger.

       there is an eternity in the silence,  the space between close enough, dog, and you are an  intruder. he’s not expected a welcome.  not anticipated kindness.  not after what he’s done.  but each word lands as surely as a blade, and he would bleed for them. each breath stings, he watches ed, the warmth nor love does not change from his gaze.  it is the same as it has been since he woke to a man hovering above his sick bed. if anything it is a clearer gaze, one held without guilt nor haze of insecurity.  

      stede bonnet makes no ode to regret, they are not words for the crew that stand around, the second in command who eyes ed as if blackbeard were a god.  and he is perhaps in his own way, but so is ed.  so is the man who didn’t want to kill him. so is the man who cooked a snake on an adventure. so is the man who wears fine things so well. and grew to love his crew and ship too.  so he remains quiet, hazel eyes widen when the gun is raised. 

   instincts he did not have a few short months before roar through his mind, his heart races, eyes widen. his body angled, his stance firmed. he will take this well, he will survive it.  he will.  because in private. there is so much he wants to say. so many ways that sorry must be uttered, that his leaving must be explained. that the guilt had to be eradicated. and that now he left his wife and children in peace, and with love. 

   the gun goes off. each second ticking by. there’s a bloom of pain. hot. dull. throb. a stumble back. a shuddering breath. he remains on his feet for a few moments. then begins to crumble. hand to the growing red stain on his shirt. drawn away as he collapses to his knees.   eyes glazing, but still holding ed’s unwavering.   

        ‘  did i do it well? did i take it as i ought? ‘  his voice dwindles on the last word. a short breath. lungs burning now. vision beginning to fade in and out.  still upon his knees.   ‘ ed?  ed -- i can’t see -- its getting a bit dark.  ‘   hand reaching out, grasping for the one he calls. there is no rebuke in his tones. only pain, and desperate need for the one he loves.  ‘ ed ... i --- ‘

    darkness.

  stede bonnet lays crumpled on the deck of the revenge.      at the feet of the one he left, and the one he loves. 

  how much time passes before with shuddering breath and groan of pain he wakes -- he hasn’t the faintest notion.  he is within his former quarters now.  though... the room lacks for many of the commodities he’d deemed once vital.  but the fire burns in the hearth, and he is glad of the heat.  his body chilled even though a sheen of sweat gleams on pallid skin.  too large a breath makes him flinch with pain.

   a dry cough as he wets his lips,  eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room.  his dual chandeliers had kept it well illuminated and -- the windows hadn’t had the drapes pulled.  but he doesn’t many any attempt to move and see further changes, the pain real and present enough his entire body is prone now to stillness. a ragged draw of breath before.