Chapter Text
This stupid, fucking foppish play pirate crew was hiding something on this stupid fucking bizarre ship, and Izzy was going to find it or burn the fucking thing down to do it, so help him God.
You didn't need years as a pirate to know when a hostage crew was being especially dodgy. Sure, there were some behaviors you could expect from any overtaken boat - cowering, pleading, prayers, sometimes tears, attempts at seduction in varying levels of hilarity - but there was always, always one tell when a crew was hiding a secret.
There. Again. Between the curly-haired one smart enough to know they were probably going to be killed and the blonde one with the accent. A shifty side-eye heavy with meaning.
The crew is hiding something. Something that has to be absolutely ridiculously important.
Couldn't be loot. More, that is. The wealth just on gaudy open display on the ship? Izzy had run a quick tally in his head when the crew (his crew, a fucking proper pirate crew) reported to him what was on board. Just the kitchens alone had more in spices than the entire amount of booty they'd looted from the Italian pleasure boat Blackbeard had sunk last month.
Honestly, who in the blazes travels with that much sugar, are asking for rats.
And that wasn't counting the captain's quarters - closets full of clothing, the furniture, the jewelry (dear Lord the jewelry), the stupid ridiculous library that probably cost a fortune in and of itself. Even the stupid chandeliers could pay the Queen Anne's wages AND maintenance for a month. Each.
So not more booty then. But what?
The ship itself is some weird labyrinthian layout that makes no sense. It's like a child designed it. Which, when Izzy looks over the shifty-eyed crew and considers the Captain, sweating and shivering in his bed… tracks. Rich boy playing pirate. Built himself a toy ship. Picked a crew of what he thought pirates would look like. Paid them a wage for the shitting Lord's sake? Completely kills the urge to be a fucking pirate. Why do you need to loot another boat if you have fucking money?
No one does this for fun, for God's sake.
"Mr. Hands. Found what we're looking for."
Izzy follows Jon below deck. He hears the thudding of tools hitting the deck, the panicked shouting of Bonnet's inept crew and Fang hissing at them to get back to work. Intimidation doesn't work and they follow Izzy, a cacophony of overlapping excuses and pleas and nonsense, Fang's threats floating unheard over the panicked noise.
Very important treasure then.
Finn is standing by what looks like, for all purposes, a regular piece of the wall. "This captain's a crazy fucker," he says with a sly grin (which is saying something, they're all crazy, the sea does that to you) and presses on the wall. It swings open smoothly, the hidden door having blended in perfectly with the wood grain (God damn maniac) and comes face-to-face with the the secret treasure of The Revenge.
Two pairs of dark eyes peer up at him from under dark blonde heads of hair. Both children - children! - have obviously been crying, tear tracks obvious on their dirt-smudged faces. One, a girl about eight, has her arms wrapped tightly around what can only be her brother, a boy of about six.
If they're not Stede Bonnet's children, Izzy will eat his own sword.
Finn's grin widens as he watches Izzy's face vacillate between shock, awe, and something resembling horror. "Mental, sir. Absolutely insane."
"Please don't kill them," one of the play pirates begs softly from behind.
"What. The absolute. FUCK?"
—
"Good-bye children."
Stede's in the process of closing the door as quietly as he can - something he's an expert in, he likes to sneak in and give them a kiss after they've gone to bed but before he does - when he hears it.
"Papa?"
Damn. Louis is going through one of his light sleeping cycles. Alma is like him and can sleep through a cannon, always has. Louis goes through months of light sleeping, followed by months of sleeping like the dead.
Stede eases the door open and slips inside. "Hello love. Just came to give you a kiss and tell you good night." He steps as quietly as he can across the room in his shoes and sits on the edge of Louis' bed. "Let's tuck you back in, hmn?"
"Why are you dressed?"
Stede takes an extra moment as he tucks his son in. What should he say? He hadn't expected this. He'd wanted to just slip away in the night. Easiest and cleanest way to do things, right? But… but the kids deserved the truth. He'd told Mary in his letter, he imagined she would pass that information along. What harm could it do to hear it from the source?
"I… am leaving."
"What? Why? Papa, don't go!"
"Shhh, it's okay. I'm going to be a pirate."
Louis' eyes grew big and round in the dark, the meager light filtering in from the hallway making his eyes dark pools. "For real?"
Stede nods, his face splitting into a grin.
"Can I come? Please?"
The quiet plea makes his heart stutter. His gut instinct is to say no. He and Alma will be safer here on land, with their mother. Happier. Besides playing pirates, he doesn't seem to have much in common with his children anymore. When they were younger, they would tottle up to him for hugs and sticky kisses and stories and he had secretly adored it, even if others had given him odd looks. He'd loved watching them learn about the world, the wonder in their tiny faces as they learned anew something that he had come to take for granted.
But maybe…
A half-formed, mostly mad idea forms in his mind. And mostly mad Stede Bonnet grabs onto it with both hands. He'd built the ship for all of them anyway, right? The children already had a room. And maybe this way he could convince Mary to come. Not now. But give her six months. Give the kids long enough to get their sea legs, to fall in love with the natural world as much as he's always been. It's not like Barbados was going anywhere.
A bonding experience. Proof he could be a good father. And then they could pick up Mary and all be a proper pirate family.
Or drop the kids off if they absolutely hated it.
"Okay. But we have to be quiet. I'll wake your sister, yeah? Pack whatever you can't live without in a small bag."
Louis nods, and proves he is his father's son by grabbing the book on his nightstand first.
—
Ed can hear the arguing from his seat next to the ridiculous Gentleman Pirate. It sounds like both crews are about to come to blows - something likely if he leaves Izzy in charge of the arguing much longer - so he sighs and stands. "Don't go dying in the next five minutes or so, yeah?" he tells Bonnet, who lets out a feverish groan and shifts uneasily under the sheets. Ed makes a mental note to grab the Revenge's cook - what was his name, Beetle? - to check his bandage and heads on deck.
Izzy is apoplectic, swearing up a blue streak, the back of his neck a truly stunning shade of red that Ed's only seen him turn a few times in his life. He only gets that mad when he's sick or offended on a moral level which, as a pirate, is saying a lot.
Bonnet's ridiculous crew is standing in solidarity in front of his own, the Bird Guy standing placidly face-to-face with Izzy in the weirdest (First Mate?) confrontation of all time. The calm demeanor is doing nothing but fanning the flame of Izzy's ire, the seagull hopping from head to shoulder and back the only sign of any sort of nerves. The tall fucker - John? Feels like he was called John - is hunched down, making him the height of the rest of the crew. It would be hilarious if it didn't have to do with what had set his First Mate off.
"I don't know what's fucking more ridiculous," Izzy is shouting, "the fact that your stupid fucking captain would pull a stunt like this, or that you'd all stay with him after he did it! "
"After he did what, exactly?"
Everyone's head whips around in his direction. Izzy steps aside. "This," he snarls, pointing at Big Fucker John like an accusation.
Big Fucker John and the two small children he's got wrapped in a protective embrace.
For a split second, Ed feels an uncontrolled rage flash through his veins as he assumes the worst. He's seen a lot. He knows what the worst of the human heart can hold. He knows what money can buy, what money can make you look away from. If Stede Bonnet, Gentleman Pirate, is that kind of Gentleman, Blackbeard will cut his heart out and sacrifice it to the ocean himself.
Then he looks again.
They look… fairly clean. Healthy, no obvious injuries. Well-fed. That doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it's a start. The older child, long dark blond hair braided back from their face, turns to look at him and oh.
Well. Now he gets Izzy's rage. Who the absolute fuck brings their children on a pirate ship.
The Gentleman Pirate, apparently.
Ed steps forward in between the two crews and leans down to be closer to their level. Big Fucker loosens his hold on them, and both of them turn a bit to look at him. "Hey there. Let me guess. Baby Bonnets?"
The younger child, a boy, nods, hair flopping into his dark eyes. The older one takes his small hand in hers, pulling him slightly closer, slightly behind. Ed grins behind his beard at the showing of big sibling protectiveness. "Nice to meet you, Baby Bonnets. I'm Blackbeard."
The boy's mouth falls open in a gasp, eyes growing even wider in surprise. The girl's eyes widen as well, mouth pressing into a thin line. Ed straightens as he watches her watch him, intensely curious to see what the offspring of the man who'd captured his attention by telling him to suck eggs in Hell would be like.
She takes her time, taking in his beard, his tattoos. It's been a while since Ed's felt so scrutinized, and it's absolutely amusing that this child who's not even double-digits is examining him with such a critical eye. He can sense her upbringing in the analysis, the way one would examine a workhorse or maybe appraise a piece of art. You could hear a pin drop on the deck in this weird standoff.
"Thought you'd be bigger," the girl finally says with the most casual shrug Ed has ever seen in his life.
Ed throws his head back and roars with laughter.