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Edward and Israel meet in a brothel.
Ed is wet behind the ears, still new to the pirate’s life, when Jack drags him into the Republic of Pirates and through the bright red door of the biggest bordello in Nassau. Ed doesn’t particularly see the appeal to paying for affection, but he doesn’t know Jack well enough yet to tell him to fuck off. He figures he can slip out once Jack is occupied, and keep him none the wiser.
He’s in the middle of executing this plan when he hears Jack’s voice, about to round the corner. He’s only made it halfway down the hall, nowhere to run and unwilling to explain himself—so he presses an ear to the closest door, and when he can’t detect any amorous sounds through the flimsy wood, yanks it open and ducks inside.
He leans heavily against the door, eyes slipping closed as adrenaline pumps through his veins. When he opens them again, it takes him a moment to understand what he’s looking at.
A boy who looks to be around Ed’s age stands frozen, wearing nothing but a short silk robe. He’s hovering above a grizzled man who is naked from the waist down—and very, very dead. It’s not until Ed takes in the pool of blood seeping slowly out from beneath the man that he sees the knife in the boy’s hand. They stare at each other for a long moment, unmoving.
Then Ed jerks his chin towards the man on the ground. “He deserve it?”
The other boy quirks an eyebrow, wary. He doesn’t speak, or lower the knife.
“I’m Ed. You want to get out of here?”
“Fuck are you on about.” When he finally speaks, the boy’s voice is hoarse. Ed wonders idly if he makes a habit of killing his customers.
“Seems like maybe you might not want to stick around. What with–” Ed gestures vaguely in the direction of the body.
The boy still doesn’t drop the knife, but his expression shifts from wary to considering. “Israel,” he says.
Ed blinks.
“My name. It’s Israel.”
“Israel.” He turns the name over in his mouth. It suits this small, angry boy. Cracking a grin, Ed takes a slow step towards him, careful to telegraph his every move. “So what do you say, Israel? Want to join my crew?”
The boy—Israel—rolls his eyes. Not exactly the response Ed had been after. “ Your crew? You can’t be more than, what, fifteen?”
Ed frowns, petulant. “Sixteen, asshole.”
To his surprise, that’s what finally gets Israel to lower the knife.
“And I didn’t mean my crew, I meant the crew I’m on.” He pauses, considering. “I’ll have my own someday, though. My own ship. My own fleet of ships. Just you wait.”
Israel rolls his eyes again, but this time Ed can tell he’s intrigued. So he cracks a grin, and wiggles his eyebrows the way Jack does when he’s trying to get Ed to agree to a bad idea. And then he waits.
Eventually, Israel responds. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
“No,” Ed agrees. “Not asking you to.”
Israel gives him one last appraising once-over. “Okay.”
“Fucking great!” Ed springs forward, bouncing on his heels, before deftly dodging Israel as he reflexively raises the knife. The kid’s got good instincts, at least. “Sorry! Sorry. Just excited to have you on board, mate.”
The wary look is back behind Israel’s eyes, as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe Ed’s enthusiasm is genuine. “Okay.”
“You have a change of clothes? Anything you need to grab before we make a break for it?”
Israel levels him with an unimpressed look. “ We’re not making a break for it. You’re going to leave like a normal fucking John, and I’m going to grab my shit and meet you at the docks.”
“But–”
“No. I know this place inside and out, and you stick out like a sore fucking thumb.”
“What, you don’t think I’m pretty enough?”
“I think you wouldn’t know subtle if it bit you in the ass.”
Ed frowns, the vision of himself as Israel’s knight in shining armor evaporating before his eyes. “But don’t you need help?”
Israel gestures to the body at his feet. Ed had almost forgotten it was there, intrigued as he was by this enigma of a boy. “Does it look like I need your fucking help?”
“Fair enough.”
Israel ushers him out of the room, a real mother hen quality to his urging. Ed refrains from saying as much while he’s still got that knife in his hands, but right before Israel shoves him out the door, he asks, “Ever had a nickname?”
Israel’s glare is flat and unamused.
“Just saying. I think Izzy would suit you.”
Israel slams the door in his face. Ed thinks he might be in love.
He tries to hide the spring in his step as he works his way towards the exit. He must not do a very good job, because the next man he passes laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
“That good, eh?”
Ed grins at him, sharp and manic. “Just killer, mate.”
The other man smiles back, but it’s a touch more uneasy than he had been a moment before. Edward pays him no mind, and starts making his way to the docks. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Israel may not meet him there. Maybe Ed shouldn’t be this confident, not in a murderous teenage whore who seems thoroughly unimpressed with his antics.
Something tells him Israel will be there, though.
The docks are bustling, crowded with people coming and going, hawking wares and picking pockets and just generally going about their business. Ed settles at the end of a mostly empty pier, legs dangling over the edge. It’s high tide, so he removes his boots to let the waves lap at his bare feet, tilting his face towards the unrelenting warmth of the afternoon sun.
“Don’t know how you expect to build your own fleet with your eyes closed and your boots off.”
Ed grins, wide and easy, before opening his eyes to squint at the silhouette of Israel’s face, haloed by the sun. He thrusts a hand haphazardly into the air, and Israel grabs his forearm, hauling him upright. He’s wearing trousers now, with a too-large linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and pair of sturdy leather boots on his feet. Ed pretends not to notice the dark spot of blood near the sole. Israel still hasn’t let go of his arm.
“So where’s this ship of yours?”
“Oh, so now it’s my ship?” He laughs, and Israel’s face shifts into an expression that Ed is starting to find familiar. It’s not a smile, not quite, but it’s got the implication of one. Ed’s determined to get there eventually.
In the meantime, he leads Israel towards the Ranger , rehearsing his story for Hornigold in his head. He’s not afraid Israel won’t pull his own weight, but convincing the captain he’s good for it will be another matter entirely.
But if anyone can do it, Ed can.
By the time they reach the ship, Ed is back to his overconfident self, pestering Israel with questions that make his nose wrinkle in fond annoyance. Or at least, Ed thinks it’s fond. If it wasn’t, Israel probably would have left by now. There are certainly enough job opportunities in the Republic for someone with his… diverse set of skills.
Before they can board, though, they’re stopped short by a shout from down the pier.
“Eddie!”
It’s Jack. He lopes towards them, wearing the lazy, satisfied smile of a man who’s just gotten laid. He looks Israel up and down, assessing him with a keen eye, before turning to Ed. “You’re not supposed to bring ‘em back with you, you fucking lunatic.”
Ed fixes Jack with a steely glare. He’s not Blackbeard yet—just a ship’s boy who’s nearly as good with a blade as he is at running his mouth. But he’s already learned how to intimidate. Knows how to sharpen his gaze and bare his teeth, just enough of a threat to encourage compliance without provoking a fight.
He’d fight for Israel, if he had to. Hell, he’d fight for him if it just meant seeing that hint of a smile on his face.
But Jack’s smart enough to know when to back down, even if he doesn’t look it. He just smiles wanly and claps a hand over Israel’s shoulder. Ed bites back the immediate instinct to slap it away—Israel has more than proven he can take care of himself.
“Welcome to the Ranger , man.” With one final pat, Jack departs for the ladder, leaving Ed and Israel alone once more.
Israel’s gaze tracks the length of the ship, and he takes a single deep breath. “You sure about this?”
Ed nods. He’s known this strange young boy for less than an hour, and he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “Yeah mate. It’s gonna be great, I swear. Just stick with me, yeah?”
And Israel does.