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It was night aboard the Revenge, well past midnight. The crew were all asleep save some boy whose name Ed hadn't bothered to learn, it was his night at the helm. Nearly all candles or lanterns on the ship had long gone out and she was wrapped in inky darkness. The only sound was the crashing of waves against the hull and a screaming North wind that brought with it the promise of a cold, harsh Winter. Ed knew his way around though; he needed no light to navigate the deck of what was now his ship. He rose from his bed (Stede's bed) to take his nightly stroll. Sleep eluded him as of late so every night he took to the deck and watched the waters. He took up his normal post on the starboard stern. From there he could feel the icy spray sting at his face, a sensation he'd long forgotten as a man with a copious beard. Now mere stubble lay where once salt and pepper ringlets sprung. He took in a full breath, leaning his head back and enjoying the sensation of the cold air filling his lungs and settling next to his icy heart. Freezing water sprayed again onto his face as a scream of wind lashed at the ship. It mingled with the sheen of salt drying beneath his tear-reddened eyes. Wet hair blew limply with each gust of wind
It had been months since he'd been jilted by Stede and the pain was still so fresh. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see the man smiling at him; could still feel the warmth of his kiss returned on his lips. His fingers tingled with the memory of how soft the blond curls at the back of Stede's head felt beneath his calloused hands. These lingering memories were unwelcome visitors in the dead of the night, hence his current sleepless state. He had destroyed nearly anything tangible that reminded him of Stede; but how to cleanse the mind of memories? He had taken to the bottle but it was small comfort and he was tired of feeling like shit in the morning. He gripped the railing hard enough to hear the wood creak and leaned his head over the side. He knew angry waves were below based on the sound and the volume of the spray coming over the side. His leather clothing shielded him well from the icy daggers of wind and sea blowing across the deck save for the few exposed bits of flesh. A thought flashed through his mind, unbidden. JUMP. His heart lurched in his chest at the thought. JUST FUCKING JUMP. A shiver bolted down his spine and it had naught to do with the winter wind. He swore he HEARD someone say that. JUMP YOU FUCKING COWARD. He whirled around and nearly unsheathed his dagger at that last inner voice. "I'm not a fucking coward!!!" he screamed. "I'm fucking Blackbeard! Scourge of the Seven Seas! Who are you to fucking tell me to JUMP!?!?" The boy at the ship's wheel pretended not to hear. He'd already been warned of the tenuous mental state of Captain Blackbeard and so ignored the shouting madman.
Blackbeard stayed where he was beside the railing, hand on his dagger, dark eyes flashing wildly to see who dared speak to him like that. His breathing was ragged and each breath he blew out looked like smoke. A dragon. His entire body shivered now as he realized the truth. No one was there. Just him, the wind and the waves, and some poor stupid boy who wouldn't live out the month. Many had called him a madman over the years but now he truly was going mad. His chest heaved as he fought back another wave of angry tears at the realization. "Fucking Stede Bonnet." he seethed through his teeth, echoing a similar sentiment shared by Izzy not so long ago. "Why did you leave me?" he whispered, hoping the wind would carry the words to wherever Stede was. He turned back to resume his watch over the dark ocean. But what if he did jump? Who would care? Izzy surely, the rest of the crew maybe. Certainly not the remnants of Stede's crew, they all wished him dead and he was sure that Jim was planning just that. Ed imagined that death would feel so sweet at first. The initial shock of cold as his body plunged beneath the waves; the spasms as his lungs filled with water; and then the final fleeting moments where the pain would vanish, and he would be gone to meet his Maker. He certainly had much to answer for and Ed knew that if Hell was real, it would be waiting for him. As miserable as he felt currently he just couldn't bring himself to it. He both wanted to find Stede but also to maybe never see him again. Part of him wanted answers, but mostly he wanted to kill Stede Bonnet with his own fucking hands. Wanted to feel his sword push through muscle and bone to rip him apart like Ed had been ripped apart. He wanted him to HURT. Wanted to feel the hot rush of blood over his hands as he withdrew his blade and held him close; he relished the thought of feeling the life drain out of him, watching as he drew his last shuddering breath. The death rattle.
These thoughts warmed Ed as he finally stepped away from the railing and shot a warning look at the hapless boy steering the ship. He slunk back to his quarters and heaved himself back into bed. The wind howled against his window but it wasn't long before he fell into a restless sleep. Visions of a smiling Stede plagued him until morning. When he awoke it as with a heavy sigh, and he reached for the bottle of rum he kept beside him at all times to try and chase away the last vestiges of Stede fucking Bonnet.