A knife appeared at Alastair's neck. Ed looked. The knife was attached to... Jim's hand. 

Jim's face was stony. "Let go of him, puta madre." 

Alastair paused. Jim added pressure. Ed squirmed, trying to get loose of his grip.

"All right, all right," he said, then shoved Ed with such force he soared backwards. 

Ed hit the deck with a gasp, the wind knocked out of him. He curled in on his side, bloody feet throbbing from having smacked against the wood in the fall. After a few seconds, Ed turned onto his hands and knees, coughing. The bell rattled loudly and the British broke into laughter again.

"We understand you want to keep him like this but really, you should consider our offer," Humphrey advised them all.

"Do you only feed the slave pet cat food, then?" One of the officers asked.

Roach grimaced.

"Or is he your mouser?" Another officer jeered. 

Lucius looked like he was about to be sick.

"I daresay they make him crawl around deck, like the animal he is, just like this." Alastair pointed at Ed, who was still catching his breath, the bottoms of his feet wet with blood.  Alastair came closer and Ed recoiled. He leaned over and stage-whispered, "Consider yourself lucky, Blackbeard. It's not even the start of what we'd do to you, much less Hornigold, eh?"

Ed's eyes watered as he visibly fought his fear in favor of pulling his wrath to the surface. He was Blackbeard. He was the Kraken. 

But the beast wasn't rising to save him. He'd shed too much of it. Edward had been reduced to a man dressed in an itchy sack, a bell on his neck, no weapons. Even The Kraken agreed with the British: it was humiliating, degrading. 

No dread pirate could be like this and invoke their beast from the depths. He wasn't worthy of it anymore. 

He had nothing. His feet stung. He thought of Hornigold, of the last real memory of him threatening to flay his skin and feed it back to him. He could see the same cruelty in the two lieutenants' eyes. Alastair looked at him with blown pupils and licked his lips. 

"Come on, you're coming with us, now, aren't you, pet?" 

Ed swallowed, his brow furrowing, not understanding. 

Suddenly Alastair grabbed Ed's ankle and pulled.

"No!" Ed screamed as he was dragged, terrified now. "Fuck off," he gasped in tears, writhing as the deck's uneven boards, nails, and debris dug into his back. The bell was against one ear, ringing so loud. Ed dug panicked fingers into the deck looking for purchase but found nothing. Alastair's grip was tight as a vise. 

Humphrey reached for him and Ed put his hands up. "Please, no," he begged. "Stop." 

Alastair paused and crouched down again. "To hear the great Blackbeard beg."

Trembling, Ed bit back a sob and searched the crew again for Stede. 

Suddenly, an officer portside towards the back shouted with surprise. "What are you doing?! No!"

The sound of the man shouting inchoately then hitting cold waters; his shrill screams were unmistakable.

Alastair and Humphrey let go of him. The crowd parted to see the commotion.

Stede was there, with another officer lined up at knife point.

"Get off my ship," he roared, eyes blazing. "Now."

Stede's presence flipped a switch in his crew, activating them as one to descend on the English, weapons brandished, muttering insults and threats. 

They formed a wall between the English and Ed, and forced the soldiers to the edge of the ship. 

The officers stumbled over each other and scrambled to get down the ladder. Alastair stepped on Humphrey's hand going down too fast. The shocked cries of the lieutenant were more than satisfying before he crashed into the waters with a mangled hand.

The crew watched the tender retreat back to their ship. 

Stede rarely felt hate, but he had a vision of fire and screams on that ship. He might give the order. He was ready to.

Jim stepped back first, and gave a furtive glance to Ed. He hadn't moved. Still on the deck floor, sack and cat collar intact. He was staring, unseeing, at the shattered remains of tea and its saucer, broken bits of a plate and bread. Clearly meant for Stede.

Jim looked back over the waters.

"Probation period's fucking over," they said.

A quiet wave of assent passed through the crew. 

The sack and the collar had been petty, and comical. They'd never read it like how the English had, fucking colonizers that they were, feeding off humiliation and cruelty. 

Now they had, it was over. Subdued and disgusted, the crew of the Revenge melted away to the lower decks, their rooms or the galley. They would find other ways to protect themselves from Blackbeard, to heal.

Lucius stopped on his way out and whispered to Stede, "When you get the cat collar off him, throw it overboard. We're never..." Lucius's voice wavered. He took a drag of his cigarillo. "We're never doing that again."

Stede nodded.

The sun was setting, the light full of pinks, reds, oranges, and yellows. Stede came over and sat down heavily, the adrenaline crash hitting him. He looked to Ed, who was hiding his face with a hand, other hand supporting him. He was sitting sideways so the bottoms of his feet didn't have to touch anything.

Roach came by. "I'll get this, Captain," he said quietly, sweeping the broken and bloody dishware together and using his apron to get them all.

Ed lifted his head to watch. Roach walked to the edge of the boat and dumped it into the ocean.

"Roach?" Stede called.

"Yes, Captain?"

"We'll need some supplies for... some first aid supplies?" 

"Right away."

"And a change of clothes?"

With a worried look to Ed, who'd turned to look away, Roach nodded. "Captain," he said in quiet acknowledgement and took his leave.

It was just the two of them, then. 

Seagulls played on the ropes and sails above them. The waters were calm, the wind an easy breeze. The sun continued her descent below the horizon.

Stede pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ed, I'm... I had no idea." Stede's voice quivered.

"Don't cry," Ed hissed, twisting over to glare at him. Stede pouted, fraught. His throat worked, trying to do as Ed said but failing. The warm yellow setting sunlight reflected off the tears slipping down his face. 

"Don't you fucking dare cry!" Ed spat again, vicious. 

The bell on his collar tinkled. The blood on his feet dripped into the deck floorboards.

Stede moved in closer. Ed clenched his jaw, visibly furious.

Stede touched his elbow. 

"Stede." Ed meant for it to sound like a warning to back off but his voice betrayed him, breaking into something else. Something small, desperate. 

"I'm right here. I'm right here, Ed," Stede whispered. 

Ed shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to... Just not think about it for awhile. He focused on the throbbing pain from his feet.

But then another sensation, a touch, feather light to the small of Ed's back. 

Ed's breath came faster, eyes prickling.

"Let me get the collar off," Stede whispered, moving directly in front of him, so close Ed could smell him - coconut oil, salt, tea. 

Ed's throat closed up, his breath coming as gasps as Stede worked, the bell jingling loudly in his ears and grating his senses. He reached for Stede's shoulder, solid and warm, grounding. Stede glanced up and did a double-take. "Hang in there, sweetheart."

"Yeah," Ed said but it came out as a whimper. 

They make him crawl around deck, like the animal he is. 

The lieutenant's voice echoed in his mind. His stomach roiled.

"There we go." Stede removed the collar and threw it aside quickly. "Okay, c'mere," he said, getting his hands under Ed's arms.

"Stede," Ed pleaded, reaching for him.

Stede pulled him into his lap. Ed was a heady scent mixture of sugar, salt, and flour coming with him from the kitchens. It was insane that only a few hours ago, he'd been all soft smiles baking.

Stede hitched Ed closer against him and Ed curled in, knees at Stede's waist, face buried into the crook of his neck. 

Stede pressed his head against Ed's, kissed his temple. "God, I love you," Stede breathed, awe and wonder in it. He ducked down to whisper, "I've got you." 

Stede covered Ed's head with his hand, protective and intimate and Stede's words, his soft touches... Ed was rapidly losing control. There was nothing to keep him sharp, jaded, hateful; nothing to take him to Blackbeard. There was only Stede holding him warm, Stede's whispers he was safe, Stede covering him, keeping the outside world at bay so he could break.

Ed clutched the back of Stede's shirt, fisting the fabric, hanging on tight as tears blurred his sight and he choked on air. "You can let go, Ed. I've got you." Stede kissed him along his hairline.

Ed broke into sobs, body shuddering under the deep cries. Stede hugged him tighter. He started rocking them, a slow soothing rhythm Ed could pick up on. 

"I didn't- I didn't know what to do," Ed whimpered. Stede rubbed his bare back under the burlap, his shoulders, hands warm and steady. "I always fucking know what to do," Ed choked out.

"There was nothing you could do," Stede said plainly. "There was nothing you could've done." 

"I could've-"

"Edward," Stede pulled back for a second. Ed went still, held his breath, his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face worried, like maybe Stede was about to reject him. "Honey," Stede said quickly, voice soft and affectionate. He brushed Ed's hair away from his face, thumbed tears off his cheeks. Ed's chin quivered and he bit his lip to stop it. "There's nothing you could've done," Stede promised. 

Ed's face screwed up. He turned back into Stede's neck and Stede was more than happy to wrap around him again, be his blanket as sobs wrested out of him.

It took Stede's breath away, to have anyone, much less Ed, latch onto him with such abandon, such trust. But Ed... Ed was fragile with him. For some reason, Ed let Stede in. He always had. Maybe since the moment he'd introduced himself as Ed, just another man on Blackbeard's crew.

A tear slipped down Stede's cheek. It was enormous, this feeling of love he had for Ed. Consuming and stressful, heartbreaking and worth living and dying for.

They were so locked in, it took a minute for Stede to realize Roach was back.

Stede brought Ed up closer, drew his legs around him when Roach came into view, an instinctive reaction to anyone infringing on such a private moment, he supposed. Ed shifted under Stede's handling.

"Roach," Stede said. In his arms, Ed started and froze for a second. 

"A change of clothes," Roach explained, setting them down in front of Stede. Ed relaxed, just stayed tucked into Stede's arm.

"Thank you, Roach."

"Yeah. And I brought the first aid supplies to your cabin."

"Thank you, Roach."

"Will you be needing my help? With his feet?"

"Ah, no. If you don't mind, I'll be taking it from here."

"Whatever you want, Captain," Roach replied, tone low and respectful. He departed silently, back down to the galley.

"Hey Roach?"

"Sir?"

"In an hour could you bring us some food in my quarters? Just some snacky bitings."

"You got it."

"Thank you."

The last sounds of Roach's footsteps faded. Stede sighed and rubbed Ed's back. Limp and exhausted, Ed shivered under Stede's hands. Stede jostled the dread pirate and kissed his temple again. "Don't fall asleep."

"I'm awake," Ed grunted into Stede's neck.

It was dark now, the wind picking up.

"M' not hungry," Ed added the complaint, voice wet and gravelly but steady. Stede smiled down at him.

"Well I am. You smell so good from the kitchens," Stede explained with easy honesty, and proceeded to snuffle like an excited dog along Ed's hairline. 

"What the hell-" Ed started but then Stede got into his ear, his playful breath and sniffling sounds so close and loud, a laugh punched out of Ed, then another as he tried to get away with a manly squeal and Stede fell into laughter too, relenting, instead pressing butterfly kisses to his head, his hair.

Stede was weird and embarrassing and hilarious and Ed relaxed in his arms, giggling between sniffs and rubbing his eyes clear. 

Steady enough to sit on his own now, he shifted up and Stede gave him space for it until Ed gasped in pain, the bottom of his foot coming into contact with the deck.

"Oh ouch," Stede hissed, moving around to take a look as Ed clutched his ankle.

"Forgot," Ed murmured. Stede hummed, distracted.

"I can't get a good look at your feet. It's too dark out now."

"Temperature's dropping too."

"Right," Stede said, resolute. He picked up the change of clothes Roach had brought them and handed them to Ed. "Hold on to those."

"Okay," Ed said slowly. "Oh, whoa!" Ed gasped as Stede scooped Ed up, one hand under his knees, the other his back. "Bloody hell, Stede!"

"Relax, I've got you," Stede advised, getting used to Ed's weight and balance.

"I am relaxed. This is great. Did you..." Ed trailed off a second as Stede took his first, surprisingly solid steps with Ed in his arms. 

"Did I what?" Stede asked, not terribly out of breath. 

"Um," Ed stalled. It was suddenly difficult to think. He hadn't known what to expect with Stede picking him up, but exceptional strength and balance wasn't exactly it.

"Ed?" Stede prompted lightly, maneuvering them into the hallway to the Captain's Quarters.

"I, um, I made myself the bride on a wedding cake topper we'd found after a raid," Ed confessed.

"You..." Stede trailed off, processing. The entryway into his quarters was tight, and a pivot had Ed knocking his foot against the door's threshold.

"Oh, fuck, Stede," Ed gasped in pain, curling in and holding on around the man's neck tighter. Stede squeezed him back in apology.

"I'm so sorry. I can't see a damn thing in here," he griped. 

There were only a few lanterns lit in strategic places around the room - the desk, a built-in shelf by the bed, and atop the fireplace mantel. He shuffled over to the settee and lowered Ed down carefully.

Ed let out a slow breath and sank into the cushions as Stede rustled around, searching for and finding additional candles to light. 

Ed was still mostly in the dark when he touched his chest and remembered the spare change of clothes still there. He sat up a little straighter, flipping the shirt out.

"Ed?" Stede's voice came from a few yards away.

"Yeah I'm here."

"I'm almost done. I've found the supplies Roach left, and I've just about enough candles, I should say."

"Cool," Ed replied, glib, getting one arm out of the burlap sack through the neck hole, then the other. He popped the billowy cotton shirt over his head and pressed it to his chest, closed his eyes. He leaned back against the cushions with a deep sigh. The burlap sack had felt like sandpaper. In comparison, the shirt was practically cashmere.

Stede rounded on him, a flickering bright candelabra in one hand, a wooden crate of medical supplies in the other.

"All right, ready," Stede announced, happy at the renewed sight of Ed. He paused though, noticing Ed had changed. The sack was still pooled around his waist - he'd need help with the pants. 

Stede scratched his chin in thought. "So do you want the sack all the way off right now?"

Ed took a deep breath. "Y-yes, yeah."

Stede nodded. "'kay," he said softly. He knelt. "I was going to wait until I'd treated your feet, but this is more than fine. We can just make sure that your feet are protected as I remove the rest..." Stede trailed off, setting his things down before turning back to Ed. He reached for the sack's folds along Ed's waist. 

Tattooed hands braced his wrists and Stede stilled, tilted his head up at Ed, eyes wide. "Ed? You all right?"

Ed licked his lips. He swallowed nervously. His stomach was in knots. 

Stede was about to take his clothes off. He was about to see him nude.

Can we just take this slow? Sometimes it's nice to just be patient, and wait.

Stede had been so accepting then. But Ed didn't know, with such intimacy they were about to share here, if Stede would make a move; go too fast again.

Ed's heart hurt, thinking about having to push Stede away. With every fiber of his being, he didn't want to. Not again. He wasn't ready. If Stede initiated, Ed wasn't sure he had it in him to say no.

"Hey," Stede murmured, just as a tear slipped down Ed's face. "No, Ed. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ed lied, sniffling. 

"Really?"

"Okay. I-I can't," Ed blurted, heart breaking. "We - I can't do anything tonight." He looked away, fidgeted with the upholstery on the settee, eyes watery. He didn't want to see Stede's face twisting in annoyance, or worse: falling to disappointment.

"Ed, no. Those aren't the vibes right now. You're hurt."

Ed squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the British soldiers' threats.

It's not even the start of what we'd do to you, much less Hornigold, eh?

"You'd be surprised," Ed choked on his laugh, a few tears falling down his face. Hornigold had preferred him hurt. Calico Jack had always been rough. There had been others too-

"Here," Stede had gone and come back again with a blanket, a sea green-blue velvet with tassels at the ends. He draped it over Ed's lap.

- none of them had ever been as kind as Stede.

"Is this alright?" He asked, burrowing his hands under the blanket to pull the sack the rest of the way off of him. Ed sniffed and nodded.

"Thank you," he said weakly.

"No need, my love. No need." Stede wrapped a warm hand around Ed's ankle and carefully removed the sack from down one leg so the rough fabric never touched the bottom of Ed's feet. Then the other leg, and then the sack was all the way off him, and Ed felt the pain in his feet but Stede's hands were warm, the blanket covering him was soft...

The pants were drawstring with big holes for legs so Stede just bunched them up to go through Ed's foot at once. He let them out as he brought them up to Ed's knee, and moved to do the other leg.

"'kay, lift up a bit? There we go," he coached as he got the pants up to Ed's waist. 

"Can I-" Ed started then stopped. Stede stilled and waited beside him, patient. "I can do the drawstring."

"Okay. I'm gonna get your feet now, alright?" He stroked Ed's hair back behind his shoulders, pressed a palm to the back of his neck. 

Ed took a deep breath and nodded. His cut up feet hadn't been the center of his attention yet. He'd been full of adrenaline, and he was still shocky. Now, he tried to focus on doing up his pants so he wouldn't think about the injuries. 

The tea and cups had been a thin, glossy ceramic. Very fancy. Stede was surely charmed by it, which was why Ed had chosen it down in the galley. Unfortunately, the thinner ceramic was, the more shattered sharp pieces it made when dropped to a ship deck.

Stede sat on a stool beside him and delicately brought Ed's feet up onto his knees. 

Ed squirmed, the pain on the pads of his feet starting to swell and throb now that it was all he could think about. "I know, I know," Stede shushed, rubbing a hand along Ed's legs. The other was holding the candelabra near Ed's feet so Stede could see. 

"This is going to hurt," Stede admitted.

"Yeah." Ed knew the drill. Stede went to work, picking out any pieces and cleaning the wounds with alcohol-soaked rags.

Ed had been through worse. It was agony though, a special kind of torture, because Stede began to tear up after a few minutes of Ed's hitched breathing through the pain.

Nobody shared in Ed's pain. Pirates weren't empathic. That wasn't a thing. But Stede's compassion, how he'd hold Ed's legs and wait for him to calm down with garbled reassurances and weepy apologies for hurting (treating) him, had Ed blubbering too because he couldn't keep a stoic demeanor when Stede damn well couldn't either.

Stede wrapped Ed's feet in gauze and finally, it was over. "All done," Stede breathed, a little shaky, and leaned against the settee back, Ed's legs still over his lap.

Ed watched from under the velvet blanket, eyes wet and wide. His feet weren't hurting anymore. Stede had done an excellent job.

"We'll re-wrap them in the morning." Exhaustion was setting in. Stede stroked Ed's leg from where he sat on the other side of the sofa, staring unseeing at an empty bookshelf. 

"Roach can. Roach is good at things like that," Stede muttered absently. He patted Ed's ankle, a distinctly platonic air to it. Ed realized with a pang that Stede was pulling back.

"Stede?" Ed prompted weakly, hoping Stede would look back at him with the open kindness he was used to, the type of look that made Ed confident and vulnerable at the same time. Stede made Ed believe he could reach for love and help and comfort, and receive it.

"Can I... um," Ed paused, heart thundering, eyes watering. He was so scared to ask. He'd never asked this in his entire adult life. He swallowed. 

"Can I sleep in bed with you tonight?"

The question seemed to part the clouds for sunshine on Stede's face.

"I would love that," Stede answered, calm and sincere, and Ed sniffed, emotional, not quite knowing how he kept getting rewarded for asking, for wanting such soft things.

He reached up and Stede got his arms under him. With very little trouble, Stede carried him past the curtains, and set him down gently onto the bed. 

"There we go," Stede whispered. "I've got to go get my bedclothes. I'll be right back." 

Ed relaxed, moved around, arranged blankets until he was comfortable. Stede had changed into a simple clean shirt and drawstring cotton pants like Ed's. It was nothing impressive, and he quickly slipped  in next to Ed, with what Ed couldn't describe any other way but giggling sounds. Then he was making the same sounds as Stede felt around and inadvertently tickled him around the sides.

Stede made Ed laugh outright, announcing, "Slumber Party!" as he gave up on tickling and pulled Ed against him. Ed snuggled in, a perfect fit under the covers.

They were asleep in minutes.