#wsv

Izzy, on the other hand, has no desire for the captaincy. It was offered to him when they first met Stede, and granted in the entanglement with the English, however short-lived. In his original plan, he hadn’t wanted to be a captain even then. The agreement was that Edward would be turned over to him, but the moment the Royal Navy had absconded with news of the Gentleman Pirate’s death, he would have returned command to his captain, and accepted the consequences, even if it turned out to be his own demise. 

No, the title of Captain wasn’t a wish he held. Perhaps as a younger man, when he still did all the dirty work on Hornigold’s ship while watching the other crew come and go, delusions of grandeur played across his dreams like sugar plum fairies, but the moment he first heard Edward speak, he was devoted entirely to sitting at the man’s right hand. Any thoughts he had of running his own ship disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

Being a first mate has been more than enough for decades. Izzy wouldn’t want anything else, and even when it was in his grasp, he was almost relieved for the mutiny, had they not been set on murdering him rather than knocking his ranking away like an opponent’s dropped knife. It’s all he’s had for a long time, besides Edward’s presence at his left like a solid foundation on which to build his life. 

He has Edward back, which is a relief, even if it’s with the accompaniment of Stede and his crew, although they’ve become progressively less useless over time. The only problem is Ed’s easy relinquishment of the title of Captain. Everyone else just calls him Ed, Edward, or worst of all the childish Eddie, leaving only Izzy to call him captain in the privacy of his own mind where Edward can’t chastise him for it, right alongside the title of Alpha that he never agreed to. Now no longer a captain, Edward’s been bestowed the title of Stede’s first mate, a role which he still mostly relegates to Izzy. The workload hasn’t changed, only become even more thankless than it had been previously. 

Of course Izzy knows he should just shut his mouth and be grateful to remain in the company of the only man he’s ever loved, even if it’s demoted and without his affection, but knowing and feeling are too fiercely separated things. Knowledge is not power. Izzy has learned that lesson the hard way over his time sailing the fickle seas at the whims of a madman prone to mood swings that make Izzy’s head spin to even try and reason through.

He should be grateful. He knows he should, knows that he’s lucky to even be alive, let alone continuing to serve on the same ship as the man to whom he has dedicated his entire life, and yet, every day gets harder to stomach when he’s lost what little respect he had from the crew besides his captain, the work has gotten harder, and it’s as if Edward views him as a means to an end and nothing more. 

Still, he rises with the sun every morning to relieve the night watch and begin taking stock of the tasks the ship requires for the day. Edward will notice some of these things, like the swabbing of the deck and the retying of the knots on the sails, but he will neglect the store room inventory and the maintaining of the artillery, left only to be questioned when the need supercedes their ability to fill it. Such is the ways of a man who has not concerned himself with tasks beneath himself as these in many years. Izzy will do it for him. Above all else, loyalty to captain, he had been told. Ed may no longer be a captain to anyone else, but he is still Izzy’s in every conceivable way. 

“Iz,” Ed calls from the prow, not even turning to make sure Izzy is coming to his side. They both know he always will. “Who’s up on the schedule?”

It’s easier to call it a schedule than to admit the nasty business of something personal. Edward has always been squeamish about it for a sailor, and the crew of a gentleman and his stray dogs have had no protests to the secrecy. The schedule isn’t even a schedule. Things come as they please, regular only by their irregularity. 

“Jim is due in a week, Frenchie a few days after that. I imagine we’ll be dropping Jim, Olu, Frenchie and Wee John off at port to ride it all out. We’ll want to stay nearby, down four. It’ll be a nice rest for the whole crew, and we run the risk of Jim setting off Lucius as well if we’re not docked soon enough.”

Edward nods. “Sounds good, I’d run it by the Captain.” The reminder makes Izzy’s chest burn. “Are you forgetting someone, Izzy?”

He doesn’t look up from the smooth wood of the deck and wills Ed to drop it. This does not work, as Izzy knew it wouldn’t, because that is how these things work. The world has always had a cruel sense of humor with him, and nowhere has it laughed harder than the days he must admit he needs to hole up somewhere safe and pray to a god he doesn’t believe in that no one finds him.

“Around the same time, aye. I could get a room in the inn if you prefer, but I should be able to keep working.”

“You’ll set off everyone else that way,” Ed replies.

Izzy shrugs. “Hasn’t historically been a problem.”

“You and I usually wound up on the same cycle, as I recall.”

“Yes,” Izzy agrees. He has to fight to not add a title onto the end of the word. “Who do you think ran the ship while you were indisposed?”

A strange expression overtakes Edward’s face at his words. Izzy is used to reading the slightest change for evidence of his former Captain’s mood, but this is unfamiliar to him. It looks like disappointment, but there’s enough not matching up to the careful catalogue Izzy has built over the years for him to doubt it as an answer. 

“You worked through heats?”

“Have for years.”

Ed shakes his head. “No. You’re not doing that anymore. It’s not safe.”

“I can take care of myself-”

“Not safe for the crew, then,” Edward argues. “If you’re not at your best, you know what can happen. There’s a reason we stop for these things.”

Izzy fights the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, Edward. I know how to handle myself, and I’ve never had any problems aboard your ship because of it.”

“Aboard my ship, you say. So aboard others…?”

“For fuck’s sake, man, are you my Captain or not?”

He jerks back like Izzy has hit him and looks away. It was the wrong thing to say, Izzy realizes now, but he can’t take it back any more than they can take back the years of history between them. He means to apologize, but no words come out of his mouth when he opens it to do so. 

“Didn’t realize it was like that, Iz. Then do what you want to do, just keep Stede in the loop.”

Edward bumps into him too harshly to be unintentional on his way past, leaving Izzy alone as he stares out over the ways. He’ll have to talk to Stede, even though it’s Ed’s responsibility anyways, because someone has to and it’s always going to be him. He wonders on days like this one if he ever really was more than his status, more than someone to do whatever Edward didn’t want to, but then internally commands himself to bite his tongue. There is much more to life than worrying over the true intentions behind the respect he has always been afforded. There are worse places to be for people of his designation. 

He stops by the captain’s quarters next, knowing Ed won’t be there when he’s irritated with Izzy and knows that’s where his former first mate will be headed. As expected, the cracked door reveals just Stede reading some thick hard-bound book, lips moving along with each word he reads. 

“Captain,” he greets, standing at attention just inside the doorway. “A word?”

Stede marks his place with a frilly bookmark and sets his novel aside. “Of course, what’s going on?”

“Jim’s rut and Frenchie’s heat are approaching within the week. We’ll need to stop at port for them and their mates to get a room and ride it out. Depending on if we make it in time, we may lose Lucius and Black Pete for a bit as well. I recommended to Ed that we just allow it to be a vacation for the others, since it’d be stupid to try and sail down that many.”

Nodding slowly as he processes the information, Stede pulls his map out and walks his fingers over it to determine their place and figure out where their nearest stop is. When Izzy first met him, he would have scarcely been able to read the thing. It’s a testament to how far he’s come that he can easily make sense of it now. 

“Looks like our nearest port is St. Lucia. Is that alright?”

“There’s inns,” Izzy agrees. “Should be fine. I’ll have Buttons set the course. Southeast, sir?”

“Yes.”

Izzy nods, but doesn’t make to leave without dismissal. It’s something Stede has been getting better at remembering, since Izzy refuses to leave without one. After a few moments, he will often just ask if he’s dismissed, which he moves to do now, but the second he opens his mouth, Stede gestures to an empty chair. 

“Have a seat, will you, Izzy?”

He obeys as much as he’s willing, which means sitting on the arm of the chair with his feet on the seat and his arms crossed. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s funny, I could’ve sworn you were due soon too.”

“For two people who never remember the rest of the crew’s schedules, you and Edward seem very keen on tracking my cycle.”

Stede shrugs and pours Izzy a cup of tea, adding three sugars before trying to pass it to him. His lips twitch when Izzy pointedly does not reach for the cup. “He’s known you for years, he’s got a good sense for that sort of thing. I can just smell it.”

“Smell it, Captain?”

Of course there’s a pheromone component to heats; it’s how his body lures in a mate, after all, but over the years, as his fertility declines and his scars have accumulated in unpleasant places, it’s all but unnoticeable nowadays. He once led a raid in the middle of a heat without the enemy knowing. Absorbent fabric for the slick and a coating of blood and ash go a long way too.

“I should hope you’re planning on getting a room,” Stede pushes on. “It’s not safe to-”

“Have you been talking to Ed?”

“Yes, generally. He’s my first mate and my actual mate. Not since this morning, though; why do you ask?”

Izzy scoffs. “He said something remarkably similar. I’ve been doing this for years, and I can more than manage it myself without hiding away by myself in some shitty room that doesn’t smell like anything but mildew and whatever previous guest used it.”

“I see. The scent would be the major problem, then?” 

“All due respect, sir, but I’d prefer you quit mincing your words and say what you mean.”

“Fine.” Stede stands up and crosses over to Izzy’s chair. Izzy shrinks back slightly at first before remembering himself and straightening his spine. He won’t be intimidated or cowed by any Alpha, especially not this one. “I have concerns about you working through your heat. I get not wanting to go somewhere unfamiliar when you’re unmated and used to certain scents, but you will not be acting as though nothing is happening. I’ll give you a couple options, alright?”

Izzy tilts his chin up defiantly and meets Stede’s eyes in a wordless challenge. “And what would those be?”

“Number one, you stay on the ship, confined to a cabin. Yours, if you want, or mine and Ed’s if you’d prefer a larger space. I’ll see that you’re brought food, water, whatever you need. Two, you go to an inn by yourself, though I understand you don’t want that. Three, you choose one of the crew to go with you so you aren’t alone. Four, I choose someone to go with you. Of course, if you do go ashore, you’re welcome to bring who and whatever you need to feel more comfortable. I have an array of rather soft blankets, if you’d like. I won’t force you to one choice over another, but I will command you out of your chores if I have to. Is that understood?”

“Fuck off,” Izzy spits.

Stede reaches for him. It could be to grab him by the back of the neck and force him into submission, or to pin him to the chair and argue with him until he feels too trapped and cornered to do anything besides acquiesce, or any number of horrible things that so many people have attempted or succeeded in doing in the course of Izzy’s life. Instead of waiting to find out, Izzy grab’s Stede’s wrist first and bites down hard on his hand. He lets go almost immediately, point proven as Stede yanks his arm back and cradles it close to his chest, little droplets of blood beginning to run down toward his sleeve. 

“What the fuck?” he cries. “Jesus, Izzy!”

He shrugs and stands up, trying to hold his breath against the anger rolling off of Stede in acrid waves. “I thought I was just some fragile, stupid, irrational Omega.”

“I didn’t say any of those things, and I would never-”

“You didn’t have to say them. Thanks for your concern, Captain, but I’ll be doing what I always have because someone around here has to be useful, and it’s not going to be you or Edward.”

Izzy leaves before Stede recovers from the shock enough to command him to stay or otherwise stop him. He goes to his cabin to calm down, curling up on his tightly made bed and pressing his face into his pillow. He stole its case from Stede and Ed’s cabin a couple weeks ago, but it still boasts a hint of Edward’s scent if he focuses hard enough and inhales so deep his lungs protest from the fullness. He’ll need to replace it before his heat so he can get some comfort from it when he takes fitful naps between restlessly finding tasks to keep him occupied. Admittedly, it’s not the best routine, but it’s enough. 

He never wanted this. He never wanted to be captain, but he had wanted to keep being Edward’s first mate for as long as he could. Until death do they part, like mates, although they never have been and never will be. It’s only a matter of time until Stede’s courtship turns into a bite on Ed’s throat and a twin one on his own, leaving Izzy without even the comfort of his Captain’s pure scent to survive on. Were he stronger, he might leave entirely to avoid that devastation, but it would be worse to be alone. He will always follow Edward, so long as he’ll have Izzy at his side. 

After ten minutes, he feels settled enough to go back on deck and direct Buttons to get them to St. Lucia and speak with the crew. He directs Jim and Frenchie to make sure they have what they need, as well as to make plans with their mates to get to the inn safely. He even checks in with Lucius about potential preparations the man will need in case he’s triggered into an early cycle by the competing pheromones that are sure to rise over the next few days before they reach port. He thinks he’s being rather polite about the whole thing, until he goes to the kitchens to brew tea and runs into Roach, who is studiously making a vat of stew over the stove. 

“You reek,” Roach says eloquently. “Are you alright?”

“The fuck are you talking about? Everything’s fine.”

He raises an eyebrow and stirs his stew. “You seem pissed, is all. You know we talk things through-”

Izzy makes a frustrated sound and stares at the kettle as if this will make it boil faster. “As a fucking crew, yes, I’ve heard, thank you for that. The Captain is just being irritating.”

“Would it have anything to do with you biting him?”

It is only from years of careful training to suppress any unfavorable reaction that he manages to keep from saying or doing something he may not be able to explain and apologize away- not that he’s ever much been one for the latter. He presses two fingers against the side of the kettle to see how warm it is, sighing when he realizes it’s nowhere near hot enough yet, which means even more time with these questions upon questions.

“Captain or not, assholes get what they deserve.”

Nodding sagely, Roach stirs the stew again. “You’d be right on that one, Mr. Hands.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Izzy allows the conversation to lapse into silence and waits for his water to boil, periodically letting his fingertips skim the surface to test the temperature. He knows it’s about to whistle less than a minute before it does, and pulls the kettle off just as its screech fills the air.

He makes himself his tea and leaves before any followup questions can be asked of him. Izzy will do now what he has always done, which is to survive his heats with stolen glances of Ed’s scent and sheer force of will. His body does not control him. It never has and it never will. He's more than just a slave to his baser instincts. So, even if his heat is approaching, he is more than capable of carrying on like normal.

At least, this is his plan until the next morning comes with a wave of nausea and a slight fever. He always rises before the sun, creeping on gentle footsteps up to the deck long before the rest of the crew even blink their sleepy eyes open. It's Pete's turn on watch, and he hardly even acknowledges Izzy's presence, as is customary for these pre-dawn hours. Normally, Izzy takes this time to fully wake up and make a mental list of what needs to be done for the day, but this morning, he walks straight up to the railing to throw up over the side of it. He heaves a couple times before his stomach is empty, and then a couple more times just because the world is against him, and straightens up to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. 

"Hey, Izzy, are you okay?" Pete asks, voice rough with exhaustion. "Do you need me to get Ed?"

"Fuck off!"

He storms back below deck before Pete can think of a response. Izzy doesn't need coddling. This is just part of the cycle, he knows, and he dealt with it fine even when he was worth more than an extra mouth to feed. He makes himself a cup of tea and takes some hard tack from the stores, not willing to even try for the rich confectionaries that Stede loves to indulge in for breakfast, lest it further upset his already roiling stomach. He’ll need to eat a bit more before his heat, just to keep up his strength and energy, but for today, he’ll make an allowance to stay bare-bones. After all, he did spend many years subsisting on far less. 

When he finishes his breakfast, he gives the ship a cursory once over before determining that it’s good enough for him to retreat to his cabin and hope he feels better after a bit more rest. The last thing he needs is to show weakness to the crew. Back in the days before Ed’s captaincy, when they were both just deckhands running on spite and hope, he heard those fateful words from Hornigold that have stuck with him in every single year since. His first mate, the one that only lasted about a month, had been an Omega as well. When his heat came knocking only a few short weeks into his tenure, the man had arranged for Edward to take on the majority of his work while he rode it out beneath deck, towels shoved against the door to prevent as much scent from escaping as possible. 

“If Teach can do it, what the fuck do I need you for?” Hornigold had yelled from inside that small cabin, loud enough for the whole ship to hear and pause in their duties. “Useless, you’re all fucking useless!”

Everyone heard what came next. Edward was given the title by the next morning, fresh and shiny new like the nickname Blackbeard that Jack bestowed upon him. The first task Ed was given as a first mate was to dispose of his predecessor’s body. Izzy helped him, the way he always has, and while they dragged what was left of the man up to deck to throw him into the sea, Edward had looked at Izzy with something dark and serious in his eyes. 

“Hide what you are,” Edward told him. 

He didn’t need to elaborate, not in what exactly Izzy was, nor in how long he should hide it. It’s been so long since then that Edward has likely forgotten, but things like that have a way of sticking in Izzy’s mind permanently. There’s an unspoken agreement that they hide Izzy’s weakness, and he is given the opportunity to make himself useful. It’s different aboard Stede’s ship, where Frenchie and Oluwande and Lucius flaunt their dynamic and receive heaps of comfort that no self-respecting pirate would accept, but they have a privilege Izzy does not: they are permitted to be useless from time to time. Izzy can never be useless. 

As he lays in his cabin trying to get some rest, he finds the restlessness beginning to build. This is not unfamiliar to him either; he knows that he’s too used to hard work all day to feel content to rest, but it’s a different sort of thing which threatens him now. The burn in his muscles to move will not be so easy to resolve as finding something to do on board. His body wants something else. It wants the comfort and the guidance of the man who has been his captain for so long, his Alpha in every sense but the concrete, but Ed is no longer his captain, and has never been his mate.

Now, Edward is the second in command to Stede, and Izzy is a lowly crewmate who will prove himself useless if he cannot work through this. It would be different, he imagines, if he had ever had the ambition to make the rank of captain, and could easily require the crew to leave him alone or ignore the pleads of his cycles, but he has never wanted that kind of power, only to be an accessory to it.