Chapter Text
The situation aboard the Revenge hadn’t gone according to a single fucking plan.
Izzy should have known better than to expect it to. When had anything in his life gone according to plan? But this….this was turning into a kind of hell that even he could have never imagined.
The plan had started simple enough: get rid of stupid fucking Stede Bonnet. How to do that had turned out more complicated than expected. Edward refused to kill the man, which was fair. Izzy had almost expected that, despite Edward’s promise to him. Edward wasn’t a killer, no matter how fierce and dangerous the man was otherwise. So Izzy stepped up, as he had always done and would always do for his captain.
Losing the duel to that namby pamby asshole had been one of the biggest insults that the universe had ever inflicted upon him.
But, fine, he could adapt and come at the plan from a new perspective. This time, with backup, since Edward had proven that he would not be in Izzy’s corner. Fuck him. Izzy would save the man anyway, because he knew what loyalty meant.
He didn’t expect that his deal with the Royal Navy would end in Blackbeard renouncing piracy to save the idiot Bonnet.
Izzy knew Blackbeard. He did. He’d served as the man’s First Mate since his first days as a captain. Blackbeard planned. He schemed. He found a way to spin the earth to his will.
He never surrendered.
But that’s what he did for stupid fucking Stede Bonnet.
And, in that moment, Izzy surrendered too. Because loyalty to his captain was all he knew and, as far as he could see, the soul of Blackbeard was dead. So fine. That’s fine. He’d take up the captaincy and honor Blackbeard by being a successor worthy of the man.
That plan lasted less than a day before the universe reminded Izzy of his place. He was not a leader of men. His role in this world was to follow, protect, even worship great men.
But worshiping a man who spent his days hiding in a blanket fort was not fucking happening. Whatever had happened when Edward had stepped off the Revenge alongside the Royal Navy, it had ripped the man’s heart out. It had exposed his soft underbelly in the worst possible way, and Edward was more in danger, and was more of a danger, than ever. He was fractured, cracked and waiting for the moment that something finished the job of destroyed him.
Izzy chose his words carefully. Angled the emotional blow just right to shatter Edward in a way that was repairable, that could reform his armor. That could reform him into Blackbeard, a man who could survive this world and carry his crew through anything. A man worthy of Izzy worshiping at his feet.
Even that hadn’t gone to plan.
Blackbeard hadn’t been reborn from the ruins of Edward. Instead, something else had risen from the ashes; something darker, more violent, more unpredictable: the Kraken.
At first, Izzy was pleased. Even as the Kraken lashed out at Izzy himself, cutting off his toe and forcing him to eat it. Izzy could take it, gladly, for the return of his captain, and the act proved that the Kraken was strong. Stronger, even, than Blackbeard. Strong enough to take on anything this world had to offer. Certainly he was once again worthy of Izzy’s devotion. Together, the two of them could rule the seas, as it was meant to be!
But the Kraken didn’t want Izzy’s devotion any more than Edward or Blackbeard did. He didn’t want to be worshiped or protected. He didn’t want Izzy to stand beside him, the two of them against the world. To be honest, it was a while before Izzy even determined what it was that the Kraken did want, beyond to speak and be obeyed, without question.
But Izzy knew how to obey.
He obeyed the orders to raid, to kill, and to destroy everything in their path. He obeyed the orders to adjust course over and over, making sure they hardly went a week between attack-sell-repeat. No downtime, no rest. Certainly no peace. Barely enough time between raids to repair damages. But he obeyed.
He obeyed the orders to find or purchase more alcohol than was wise; watching as Black-no as the Kraken drank himself into a stupor nightly. Watching as the bottle became a permanent fixture in his hand and as the great tactical know-how that Blackbeard was famous for got buried under slurred words and a drunken rage.
He even obeyed the orders to take on more and more violent crew members. Crew that would follow the man that Edward had become.
And now, Izzy was in a hell of his own making.
The men that the Kraken’s reputation had drawn to their crew were nearly unmanageable. Their need for violence unquenchable.
His old captain, the real Blackbeard, would have never taken on men like this. Men whose appetites were impossible to satisfy with drink or gold. Men who fought for the enjoyment of the kill, not as a means to fame and fortune.
Yet, bewilderingly, the Kraken still refused to kill.
Oh, he ordered and orchestrated more death than Blackbeard ever would have allowed. But when the time came, even when it was life and death, the Kraken never struck that killing blow.
Edward would have known that his own weakness and refusal to kill would be exposed quickly and fatally in the company of men like this. The Kraken either didn’t realize, or simply didn’t care. Given his rush to ever increasing danger, Izzy feared it was the latter.
Izzy was exhausted from watching his back at all times. Stepping in during raids and slitting a throat where Edward could not. Encouraging the stories of the Kraken’s violence amongst the men in an effort of hiding the truth from them.
Worse yet, it was no longer just Edward that Izzy was forced to protect.
Izzy had never taken on the title of Quartermaster, despite it being the same job duties as First Mate. He refused to swear his loyalty to the men that served under him. No, Izzy Hands was Blackbeard’s First Mate; and his loyalty was first and forever with his captain.
That didn’t mean that he was reckless with the lives of his crew. He had to show them some measure of loyalty, or they’d never obey his orders. But, in the past, when he had defended the crew or redirected some of Blackbeard’s more risky plans, it had been just another form of loyalty to his captain. Protecting the crew was, in its own way, protecting Blackbeard. A captain is nothing without a crew to follow him, after all.
That fact hadn’t changed. It had, however, become infinitely more difficult when Izzy had to protect his captain from the majority of this crew.
The majority, but not all.
Blackbeard no longer existed. And Edward was buried so deeply inside the Kraken that Izzy wouldn’t have been sure that he even still existed, if it wasn’t for the Kraken’s refusal to kill.
Izzy was sure that Edward was still in there though. He was certain of it. And as much as he’d tried to save Blackbeard at the expense of Edward, Izzy was now determined to save Edward at the expense of the Kraken.
And there were only four people aboard this ship who were not a threat to the man hidden within the Kraken: Ivan, Fang, Frenchie, and Jimenez.
Unfortunately, those four were in as much, if not more, peril than Edward was at the moment. The crew had yet to discover Edward’s weakness. But Ivan, Fang, Frenchie, and Jimenez…they wore their weaknesses on full display. They took care of each other openly. They defended each other and cared about each other. They didn’t enjoy the violence, didn’t revel in it the way the rest of the crew did. They drank less, talked more, and stood exposed and vulnerable among a crew who would enjoy nothing more than to feast on their pain.
~*~*~*~*~
Izzy had to walk a fine line nowadays.
The crew tolerated his loyalty to their captain because it was expected of a First Mate and because, for now, the Kraken had their begrudging respect.
Any protection that Izzy could offer to the four original crew had to be subtle. If the rest of the men realized he was protecting them, it would be taken as a weakness and was likely to get him killed. And, while the Feckless Four may watch each other's backs, Izzy was under no illusion that they would watch his. The Kraken certainly wouldn’t.
That was fine. He knew how to watch his own back.
Izzy took a breath and allowed his sword to drop, pointing toward the deck of the merchant ship they stood on, but not relaxing his back and arms. He would be able to lift the sword again at the first sign of trouble.
The merchant crew were currently seated, faces and eyes downcast, in the center of the deck. The Kraken’s crew were sprinkled sporadically in a circle around the merchants, jeering and cursing them for their fear. They had hoisted a white flag the second that the Revenge had raised the black, surrendering without a fight. Izzy understood the decision. These men weren’t pirates, or even gentry. The cargo aboard their ship didn’t belong to them, so why risk their lives so that some rich fuck could be even richer?
The Kraken’s crew had no interest in understanding the surrender, however. Izzy could see in the way they circled the merchants like predators: they were in want of a fight and didn’t care about the reason for it.
Izzy paced the deck, watching the crew that were above and waiting for Edward and the rest to come back from collecting the goods below deck. When Edward did saunter back onto the deck, Izzy was at his side immediately.
“What is it, captain?” The question was barely above a whisper, attempting not to draw attention to the two of them.
Edward smacked a log against Izzy’s chest, muttering, “They aren’t merchants,” without so much as looking at Izzy or breaking his stride to where the surrendered men knelt.
“Slavers,” Jimenez stated, coming up from below and stopping beside Izzy. “Or, at least, transporting slaves. Though there are as many corpses below as living men.”
Izzy glanced at them, then at Frenchie, who stumbled up the stairs and immediately to the railing, looking like he was about to be sick. Ivan and Fang joined him, Fang clasping the bard’s shoulder in an offer of comfort as Ivan stood silently beside them.
“Blackbeard left a few men below. Told them to break the bonds holding anyone who was still alive,” Jimenez’s eyes flickered back and forth between the slavors and Frenchie, watching their friend’s back, concern evident on their features.
Izzy opened the log and scanned through it quickly, “Nothing marking the cause of death.”
“Not like it’s hard to guess,” Jimenez muttered.
They were right. There were really only three possible options in a situation like this. Rebellion was a possibility, but the least likely. More likely, the deaths had been caused by illness or starvation. In either case, that would be a direct result of neglect and maltreatment by their captors. Izzy watched as the Kraken’s crew shuffled their feet, becoming more and more restless as news of the “cargo” spread amongst them.
He moved away from Jimenez, striding up to Edward, “What’s the plan then?”
“The captain, quartermaster, and boatswain are coming with us. Hostages. The rest…their fates will be decided by the men below.” Edwards' voice was cold.
“They in any shape to man this ship?” If half of them were dead or dying, it didn’t seem likely that they’d survive to deal with their captors and sail the ship to any port of safety. Izzy wasn’t even confident that there’d be any among their number who was familiar enough with these seas to know where to make port.
“They’ll figure it out, if they want to live badly enough,” the Kraken shrugged, turning his cold gaze on Izzy.
Izzy hesitated, but nodded. They didn’t have the space or rations to take on another dozen men, let alone to nurse ill or injured men back to health. They could sail beside them long enough to offer some protection and direction but…Izzy honestly wasn’t sure that having this crew that close would offer any real protection. No, leaving them here with the chance to determine their own fate was possibly the kindest thing that the Revenge could do for them.
“Alright dogs, chain up the captain, quartermaster, and boatswain and remove them to the Revenge , they’re going to be our…guests…for a time!” Izzy yelled the instruction, watching as men jumped to comply. “The rest of the crew will be left to face whatever fate that their cargo has in store for them.”
He watched as the kneeling “merchants” shifted and squirmed, unsure and afraid.
“They to be unharmed when they face their fate?” someone yelled out the question.
Izzy glanced over to where Edward was already crossing back to the Revenge , not bothering to ensure that his orders were complied with. He hadn’t specified anything regarding the state that they had to leave the others in…
“Oh,” Izzy shrugged, attempting nonchalance, “I think alive is good enough.” The screaming started up before the last word faded.
He turned his back on the scene and limped over to Jimenez. He hadn’t brought his cane with him, never did when they boarded another ship. The limp and the pain in his foot put him in enough danger, without also losing the use of one hand to the blasted cane. He’d pay for the decision later. Always did. Edward kept him too busy to really allow his foot to heal, but at least Izzy had been able to successfully stave off infection so far.
“There any maps below?” Izzy asked once he reached Jimenez.
“Sí.”
“Get a pen and ink and cross off any port that deals in slaves,” Izzy instructed. “Try and find someone who can navigate in the bunch below and make sure they know where to go.”
Jimenez tilted their head, looking sideways at Izzy, but it was Frenchie who spoke up.
“We’re just going to leave them?”
“That’s our orders,” Izzy nodded, turning away from the four and watching as the hostages were shoved across the gangplank that had been erected between the two ships.
“They’ll die!” Frenchie’s voice was harsh, desperate.
“They might,” Izzy acknowledged, “But they’ll have a chance.” He moved away before anyone could say anything else. It was time to get back to the Revenge and get his cane, then find somewhere to keep the hostages, since stupid fucking Stede Bonnet hadn’t included a brig on his stupid ship. He’d have to reallocate one of the other rooms to serve the purpose. Then he’d have to be back here to direct the crew back aboard the Revenge before they disconnected the two ships and set a new course.
In the meantime, he’d tell himself that he’d done all he could and he’d try to make himself believe it.
~*~*~*~
“Give the hostages to the men,” Edward didn’t turn around. His chair back was against his desk, and he looked out the windows in the Captain’s Quarters much as he used to do aboard the Queen Anne.
“Captain?” Izzy had barely made it past the door when Edward had spoken. They’d separated from the other ship only two hours prior, and had finally lost sight of her along the horizon. Izzy had headed to the Captain’s Quarters to give Edward an update and chart a new course, but he hadn’t gotten a word in before Edward had spoken.
“You heard me,” Now Edward did turn his head, just enough to glare over his shoulder at Izzy. “Do I need to start repeating myself now?”
“No, Captain,” Izzy shook his head, then cleared his throat, “Just…Did you want the men to keep them alive?”
“Fuck if I care,” Edward turned away again, taking a swig from his bottle, “Aren’t worth nothin’. Alive or dead. May as well let the men have some fun.”
Izzy nodded, “We did manage to secure a few items from the raid. Some sugar, coffee, and spices. Not a lot, but enough to resupply once we’ve sold it off.”
The only acknowledgement that Edward heard his words was a heavy sigh.
“Tortuga is the closest, but we’ve the rations to make it to the Republic of Pirates, even down to Port Royal, if you prefer,” Izzy offered.
“This really is all there is,” Edward muttered. The bottle was empty now, and hanging over the arm of the chair from a limp hand.
“Captain?” Izzy asked again, taking a tentative step forward.
It was the wrong move.
Edward was out of the chair, face enraged as he slapped both hands down on the edge of the desk. Izzy was not too proud to admit that he jumped, banging his injured foot hard in the process. A shockwave ran up his leg, settling in his knee and hip.
“Make the plan, execute the plan…” Edward shook his head, letting the statement trail off. “Doesn’t matter what port we dock at. They’re all the fucking same!” Edward stood up, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.
“We’d probably get better deals in Port Royal,” Izzy ventured, attempting to steer the captain’s mind in the way he had all the times in the past when Blackbeard was in one of his dark moods.
Edward’s shoulders slumped, “Then what, man? On to a new plan and repeat and repeat. It was awful before…before…Now it’s unbearable! ”
“It’s life,” Izzy sighed, “We’re pirates. It’s what we do.”
“We could have done something else. I could’ve had…” Edward’s face crumpled and for a moment, Izzy thought he was going to cry. The moment passed and the dangerous madness descended again, pulling forth the Kraken.
“Why couldn’t you have just let me have it?” Edward’s voice had gone cold and quiet.
Izzy didn’t know what to say. He’d navigated Blackbeard’s moods for years, but they’d never been like this. They’d never turned on him, the way the Kraken would. Izzy backed up a step as Edward stepped forward. He knew it was futile, knew there was nowhere to go. He forced himself to hold his ground as Edward closed the distance between them.
“Hm, Izzy? No smart words now?” Edward jutted his chin out, looking down his nose at his First Mate.
“As ill-conceived as the methods proved to be, I was trying to save you-”
The punch was not unexpected, but it still knocked him to the floor. Izzy pushed himself up to a reclining position, staying on the floor and hoping that he didn’t get a boot to the ribs for his trouble.
“You were right, you know. You should have let the English kill me,” Edward knelt down and grabbed Izzy by the face, digging his fingertips into the new bruise forming on his jaw. “I don’t care where we dock. Figure it out yourself, since you’re so keen on deciding my fate.”
“Y-yes, Captain,” Izzy forced out, though he could barely move his jaw to speak in the grip that Edward had on him.
“Get out,” Edward shoved him away, using the corner of the desk to haul himself to his feet.
Izzy struggled to raise himself from the floor. The pain in his foot and leg throwing his balance off even more than usual.
“Oh, and Izzy,” Edward’s words were almost warm now, but the danger still lurked behind his eyes, “You might want to start locking your door at night.”
Nothing else; the threat was left unsaid. Still, cold rushed up Izzy’s spine as he turned and limped through the door. The taste of blood in his mouth making him nauseous.
He made it to the deck and up to the helm.
At Frenchie’s suggestion, the hostages had been tied to the mast. They were there now, the crew circling them like vultures. Even the Feckless Four were on deck, staring and taunting at the three bound men.
“We’re setting sail for Tortuga,” Izzy called out, waiting until all eyes were on him, “And our three guests are Blackbeard’s gift to you, to repay you for the lack of haul from the raid. Do with them as you will!”
The hostages lasted nearly three days. Longer than Izzy would have anticipated. He had their bodies dumped into the sea without fanfare once the crew was done with them.