Chapter Text
[Chapter one card for Please Let Me Wonder. Two banners hang on wooden poles on a beach. The top banner reads (First annual) Revenge Beach Games. The bottom banner reads Please Let Me Wonder Chapter One. A seagull is perched on the right pole.]
Stede Bonnet had the perfect vision of piracy. After all, his library stocked shelves and shelves of books about pirates on the high seas. Stede pictured swashbuckling, raiding, looting, and adventures galore. He pictured himself as a sort of gentleman pirate, a fearsome pirate captain who killed with kindness rather than cruelty. A polite menace, if you will.
In reality, life aboard The Revenge was full of surprises. Of course, it came with the occasional swashbuckling, raiding, and looting, but not the kind Stede imagined. He certainly didn’t expect to loot a fern in a tin cup, run his ship aground, or be gutstabbed (on purpose!) and almost hanged to death.
Never did Stede expect to meet someone like Ed.
Ever since Ed stepped through the flames and stood over his half-dead body, Stede had been completely enamoured. He didn’t believe in fate, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that the great Blackbeard happened upon Stede and his crew. Getting stabbed and hung by the Spaniards made Stede realise he was a terrible pirate (an opinion shared by his crew, as they openly admitted to his face). However, after taking one look at this fancy man and his fancy ship, Edward Teach decided that Stede Bonnet was a fucking lunatic who had it all sussed out. If that wasn’t incomprehensible, Ed insisted on staying aboard The Revenge to learn Stede’s gentlemanly ways, and in return, he would teach Stede everything about being a bloodthirsty pirate.
It was all Stede had ever wanted. With Blackbeard training him on how to swashbuckle, raid, and loot, Stede could finally become the pirate of his dreams. But as time passed, and he spent every waking moment in Ed’s company (and every other moment thinking of little else), Stede’s dreams fluttered away in the breeze, his attention turning to something—or someone—else entirely.
From every book he read on piracy, Stede thought he knew everything about the bloodthirsty Blackbeard. The crew shared the same belief, particularly Black Pete, who went on and on about the many cruel acts he witnessed under Blackbeard’s command (though when Stede brought it up, Ed had no memory of Pete even being on his ship).
However, something peculiar happened; Stede realised that Ed and Blackbeard shared little in common. Blackbeard wore black to match his black heart. Ed fancied a fine fabric. Blackbeard spent nights downing bottles of rum. Ed took seven sugars with his tea in the morning. Blackbeard was ruthless, violent, and cruel. Ed was funny, sensitive, and absolutely lovely. It wasn’t long until Ed became more than a guest on Stede’s ship. With his new co-captain by his side, every day on The Revenge brought an unexpected adventure that left Stede eager for more.
That was, until the day Calico Jack showed up.
When Stede awoke one morning to cannon shots, he rushed outside to witness his antique furniture being blown to smithereens, and Ed cackling next to a man who clearly couldn’t point out a bar of soap if it was held under his handlebar moustache. Stede was gobsmacked, and not because of this strange, smelly man suddenly on his ship. Around his former crewmate, Ed became loud, boorish, and, simply put, not nice. He had no problem destroying Stede’s family heirlooms with this Calico Jack. He ignored Stede during breakfast, sitting close to Jack instead. He laughed himself to tears during the most outrageous games such as whippies, yardies, and forcing two innocent creatures to kill each other. When Ed was around Calico Jack, Stede couldn’t be around Ed; the man he had grown fond of was gone.
“Honestly, Ed,” Stede said, heat and frustration itching his skin, “I don't like who you are around this guy.”
“What?” Ed puzzled, furrowing his brows. “But this is who I am… this is me.”
Stede studied Ed, a coconut in each hand, eager to hurl them at willing—or unwilling—participants, and he questioned if the lovely man he thought he knew had ever existed at all.
Later that night, alone in his quarters, Stede tried distracting himself with a book, but the commotion from Ed, Jack, and the crew made it impossible. Fuming, Stede swung his legs out of bed and threw on his fuchsia robe before storming out of his cabin. With his soft hands in fists and his peachy cheeks bright red, Stede intended to give Jack, the crew, and even Ed a piece of his mind. He stormed out on deck, ready to let hell rain down, only to come across a most unforgivable display. Jack, in a drunken fit, lashed his whip back and forth, sending the crew dodging and ducking, until he struck Buttons’s beloved seagull companion, Karl.
Nothing could be done; Karl was dead. Poor Buttons, stark naked, wheezed out hexes at Jack, maddened with grief. A decent person would’ve offered their apologies and condolences, but Jack, devoid of any heart, only laughed in Buttons’ face. Stede would not have it, this barbaric kind of cruelty. He stepped forward, not a quiver in his step, and spoke with the voice of a captain.
“Get off my ship.”
Silence fell upon the ship. Jack pivoted around, wearing the most disgustingly smug sneer, but Stede would not be intimidated by him any longer.
“Now.”
Jack sniggered with half-lidded eyes, devoid of empathy, and turned to the crew.
“Oh, come on, guys,” Jack beckoned, “you don't wanna stick around with this fop, do ya?”
But the crew were silent, recoiling from Jack with glares. Despite the uncomfortable moment, Stede felt an enormous weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn’t too long ago that his crew were considering mutinying against him. Now, Stede felt a true kinship with the crew, a bond that not even an unruly man with a whip could break. However, when Jack backed towards the dinghy, he turned back to Ed, and Stede’s heart froze.
“Blackie?” Jack urged. “I saved your life, man.”
Ed grimaced, unable to look Jack in the eye, but not Stede, either. He shifted on his feet, tilting his head side-to-side, and Stede’s stomach churned. Was he looking at the stranger who took Ed's place today, or the man he hoped still existed? The man Stede had come to adore…
Choose me, Stede prayed. Please choose me.
Ed’s eyes shot to Stede. His mouth opened and closed, unable to form words, but Stede returned Ed’s gaze with shiny, pleading eyes, unbreaking. He wouldn’t now, not when his co-captain was at the fingertips, inches from being ripped away. Then, with his focus still on Stede, Ed let out a long, decisive sigh and spared a glance at Jack.
“Sorry, mate. I’m staying here.”
Stede let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and his lips wobbled into a smile. However, before Stede could learn the full meaning of Ed's answer, Jack wheezed like an overblown whistle that had overstayed its welcome.
“Quit pulling my chain, Blackie. Let’s fucking go already.”
“I said no, Jack,” Ed stated, staring Jack dead in the eye. “We had fun, all right? Just go.”
Jack’s wheezes died out, but Stede saw smoke turn into fiery hot fury in his eyes. “You gotta be fucking shitting me. After everything we’ve been through, you’re ditching me for these losers?”
The crew, who had been falling for Jack’s supposed charm all day, responded most appropriately by erupting into jeers.
“Oh, get fucked!”
“Piss off!”
“Who are you calling losers, you fucking loser?”
Jack had been so cocky around the crew, but as the crew's jeers grew into a cacophony of curses and insults, Jack backed towards the railing and unleashed venom upon them.
“Oh, fuck off, all of you! That’s how it is, after everything? You’re gonna stab me in the back for this pansy?” Jack pointed a fat finger at Stede, and Stede fumed, his fists clenching at his sides.
“Leave my crew out of this,” Stede demanded, lifting his chin with dignity, “and while you’re still aboard this ship, you would do well to show the captain some respect.”
“Shut the fuck up, Steve!” Jack exploded, his hideous moustache quivering with rage. “You’re not a captain; you’re not a pirate! You’re not even a fucking man! What kind of man parades around in pink robes and white dresses? No wonder Blackie is so fucking limp; why don’t you fuck off and let the real men—”
Suddenly, as he thrashed about on deck, Jack's whip lashed around his legs, causing him to tumble over the railing and into the murky waters below. Stede gasped at the splash, and the crew rushed to the railing to taunt Jack, apparently still alive and floating in the water. Ed, however, stayed in place, rigid except for the sharp rise and fall of his shoulders.
“Fuck the lot of you!” Jack screamed from below. “You can all eat shit together!”
Ed's back stiffened, and he stared out towards Blind Man’s Cove. “Impossible to make an escape,” he murmured to himself, out of earshot of everyone except for Stede.
“Ed?” Stede fretted, slowly approaching him. “Is everything all right?”
“Hoist the sails!” Stede leapt back as Ed marched forward and yanked the crew away from the railing. “Get this ship moving! We have to leave right fucking now!”
The crew were dumbfounded at Ed’s outburst, but they pulled themselves together and sprang into action, scattering across the deck. While they hoisted the billowing white sails and retrieved the anchor from the water, Ed slammed his palms on the railing and stared at Jack bobbing below.
“You fucking set us up!” Ed shouted at him. “You were waiting for an ambush!”
“I did it for your own good, Blackie!” Jack spat. “Get in a dinghy, and we can get the fuck out of here!”
Ed growled under his breath, and without giving Jack the courtesy of a goodbye, he turned on his heel and stormed off.
“Ed?” Stede quivered, but Ed brushed past him and kept marching towards the stern.
“Keep watch over the horizon!” Ed commanded as he took control of the wheel. “Anything you see, shout it out!”
“But it’s too dark, Blackbeard,” Oluwande objected.
“So settle in! No one rests until we’re in the clear!”
The crew groaned to themselves, but no one dared protest under Blackbeard’s command. They assumed their positions, becoming Ed’s eyes and ears. All except for Buttons, sobbing over Karl’s lifeless body in his trembling arms.
“Come on,” Stede whispered, wrapping an arm over Buttons’ bare back. “I’ll fix you some tea.”
Buttons, who often professed his love for the sea, did not protest as Stede guided him towards his quarters, with fat, sorrowful tears streaming down his cheeks. However, before they left the deck, Stede heard Jack cry out one last time.
“You’ve gotten weak around him, and you know it! I swear, Blackie, you’ll regret ditching me for him! Do you hear me? You’ll fucking regret it!”
Stede flinched, but he dared not risk glimpsing at Ed. With his face ashen, Stede rubbed Buttons’s back and led him inside, while Jack’s final warning rang in his ears.