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All myths have some element of mistruth to them, Stede supposes, but even still, he hadn't expected the real story behind the dread pirate Blackbeard to be so... distorted.
For one thing, Stede realizes when he awakes aboard his own ship, stomach and neck aching where he'd been stabbed and subsequently hung by the Spanish, the captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge who's been terrorizing the seven seas for the past several decades isn't Blackbeard at all. It's Ned Low, the man who Stede finds sitting at his bedside with his feet kicked up on the desk, lazily thumbing through Stede's records. "I had to meet you for myself," Ned tells him, voice purring and eyes keen. "An omega captain who runs his ship aground and pays his crew a salary, but who captures British officers? What a lovely tune. I was certain your song must be as full of intricate, discordant harmonies as mine is."
He's referring to the second truth Stede has uncovered about Blackbeard: he's not a ghastly, wraith of a man with with smoke for a beard and glowing red eyes like all the stories would have you believe. It's a few weeks before Stede meets him, when his injuries have healed enough to have him back on his feet and hosting 'Blackbeard's' crew from a more dignified upright position in his sitting area. Ned has been making himself a nuisance by sailing after them wherever they go, constantly sending dinghies over to The Revenge to pester Stede with questions about his life before sea and brag about his record and insisting on playing music for him. Honestly, Stede would have attempted to blow a hole in their ship long ago, if he thought they stood a chance at defeating the much better trained, better equipped crew.
He has to admit he's intrigued, though, when Ned offers to bring the Blackbeard aboard. "Do you want to meet him?" Ned asks with a smirk. "I could bring him over for a spell, if you'd like. He's a fascinating creature, truly. And I must say, his screams of rage are a lovely tenor."
Of course Stede has to say yes, in spite of Low's creepy manner of asking. He's curious to meet such a legendary pirate. So Stede affirms that he would indeed like to meet the man, and resolves on the spot that he'll show no fear all all, no matter how monstrous Blackbeard might be.
But Blackbeard, Stede sees at once as he and Ned step into Stede's cabin, is not a monster. He's an alpha who's clad in black leather and tattoos, with dark curly hair streaked with gray all around him like a wild mane and some of the loveliest chocolate eyes Stede has ever seen. He follows Ned --a beta-- around like a shadow, which Stede supposes is ghostly enough, but there's a distinct lack of weapons on his person that makes him hardly look a threat and a brace on one knee that actually makes him look quite vulnerable. He doesn't even have a beard at all, black or otherwise.
That nickname, Stede discovers, comes from the black muzzle that he wears across the lower portion of his face, thick leather molded tight around his mouth and jaw. There's a strap that splits on either side of his nose and runs up the center of his forehead, forcing his jaw to stay shut while allowing him to breathe out of his nose. It buckles at the nape of his neck, where it's secured with a thick silver padlock, the key to which is one of the two Ned wears on a delicate chain around his neck. The other key goes to the shackles on the alpha's wrists, which force him to keep his arms behind him with only scant inches of slack between his hands.
Stede's protective instinct flares to life as soon as he sees him, fingers itching to reach for the alpha and smother him in the scent of warmth and safety and home. He can't help it. That's what omegas do; they bring comfort and stability to those around them, as powerful as alphas in their own right. It's why his crew is so loyal to him in spite of his complete lack of pirating skills, and how he'd managed to capture two British officers who dared wander onto his ship. Everyone always underestimates omegas, and yet no alpha or beta alive can resist them.
It's the perfect trap, really, if you're smart enough to know how to use it.
The muzzled alpha whines as he catches Stede's scent, taking a few quick steps toward him, but Ned stops him with a bark of, "Blackbeard, heel!" The alpha freezes, falling into place at Ned's side once more, chest heaving as he desperately inhales Stede's pheromones, weight shifting infinitesimally from side to side like he's itching for a fight. "Behave yourself, or I'll have you sent back to your kennel, you hear me?" There's a long pause, and then the alpha nods, slowly, eyes still locked on Stede. Ned sighs. "Don't mind this one, he's damn near feral. I'd love to have him housebroken, but he's much more useful this way. Still, he's a lovely instrument, isn't he?"
It goes against Stede's instinct to be rude, but not as much as it does to see an alpha bound this way, forced into submission and clearly on edge. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he says haughtily. "What is the meaning of this? Why do you have your alpha bound this way?"
"He's not my alpha," Ned sneers, anger flashing in his eyes, "nor is he anyone's. He doesn't have a pack. He stays among this crew at my mercy, as he will until he's no longer of use to me."
"And what," Stede says, vibrating with anger, "could that purpose possibly be?"
"As a weapon!" scoffs Ned like it's the most obvious thing in the world, gesturing to Ed. "Have you ever seen a feral alpha set loose in combat? Of course you haven't, because you'd never live to hear the final chord of that symphony. We raid a ship, we set him upon the enemy crew with a handful of weapons, and he fells them for us like an exquisite crescendo. Except for the ones that we let live to tell the tale, that is. Intimidation also has its place. It's a terrible nuisance to get the muzzle and the chains back on him afterwards, but usually he stops fighting so much after a few slices to that delicate tummy of his. Hardly so tough at all, are you, Blackbeard?"
Stede feels sick. "Why?" he asks, horrified. "Why keep him muzzled and chained at all, if he's working for you?"
"We have to, for our own safety. I can't let him run around maiming my crew. Just last week we took the muzzle off for feeding time and he tried to take a chunk out of someone's arm. The thing's too stupid to control himself, so we have to do it for him. Isn't that right, Blackbeard?" Ned says smugly, looking at the man like a prized possession.
A noise rises up in Blackbeard's chest that sounds like a growl forcibly caught between his teeth, and Stede feels an answering sound stirring in his breast. "He's not a weapon, he's a person," Stede seethes. "To keep him restrained like this-- it's unethical, amoral--"
"Oh, spare me your judgement," Ned tsks, rolling his eyes. "Listen, Stede, I'm sure you're a very sweet omega who can't imagine having another creature at your mercy because you're just so soft and fluffy or... whatever, but real masters of the trade have to make tough decisions like this. If you want to create beautiful music, you have to control each and every note."
"That may be your way of doing it," Stede allows, reaching over to pick up a bronze paperweight in the shape of a whale, turning it over in his hands contemplatively. "You're forgetting something, though."
Ned looks at him almost pityingly. "Am I? And what's that?"
"You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."
Stede leaps forward, paperweight in hand, swinging the heavy object at Ned's head--
And missing. Far from knocking the man unconscious as Stede had planned, it's Stede who winds up stumbling to the floor, having lost his balance and overcorrected so that he winds up flat on his backside staring up at a livid Low. "You insolent little flea," Ned snarls, reaching up to pull the necklace of keys over his head and moving to unlock the manacles around Blackbeard's wrists. "I'll make certain that every note of your death is absolute agony for that. Blackbeard, fetch."
The alpha moves at once to loom over Stede, hands flexing with their newfound freedom, and for one split second as Blackbeard reaches for him, Stede sees his life flash before his eyes, pathetic and dull as it's been. Then, before he even has time to beg for his life, Blackbeard is picking up the paperweight from where it had fallen from Stede's grasp and turns on Ned, that same growl as before loud in his chest as he swings it into Ned's temple.
This time Ned drops like a sack of bricks, and Stede is very, very glad the alpha has chosen to be on his side.
The side of Stede that's directly on top of him, apparently, because Blackbeard is suddenly kneeling over him, nuzzling into the curve of Stede's throat and rubbing his muzzle against the mating gland there, whining as Stede's scent washes over him more forcefully. "Easy, easy," Stede soothes, forcing down the panic in his chest so that he can make his scent as calming as possible. He pushes the alpha's face away, noting how instantly he yields to Stede's touch, and offers his wrist to the man instead. Blackbeard begins scenting that spot just as frantically, but at least it allows Stede to sit up with only mild growling from his new acquaintance.
"Can I get some help in here?" he calls, squeezing the back of the alpha's neck comfortingly. "Quite quickly, please!" A moment later, Jim and Pete come bursting into the cabin with Ned's first mate, Izzy, not far behind. "Everyone, stay calm," he instructs the room in general, though his own voice is a little breathless. "There's been a bit of a situation."
Jim looks at the alpha in his lap with wide eyes, and Pete swears. "Fucking hell, Captain! Don't move, I'll get the shackles--"
"That won't be necessary, I think," Stede says hurriedly as he feels Blackbeard's body tense for a fight. "He's just scenting me, that's all. Perfectly normal for an alpha in distress. Look, he's just protected me from that wretched man," he insists at his crewmembers' dubious looks, pointing to Low's body. "That's who needs to be put in shackles. Get him out of here, will you, while I sort this one out?"
"You'll want to be careful with him," Izzy cautions, voice quiet and solemn. "He doesn't want to hurt anyone, but he's been forced to do so for a very long time. He'll lash out if he feels threatened."
Stede attempts to scratch his fingers over Blackbeard's scalp between the straps of the muzzle. "Well, I'll just have to be careful not to make him feel threatened. You're familiar with him, then?"
Izzy gives a terse nod. "I'm responsible for most of his care. I can read his moods better than most, always know when he's going to try to take a bite out of me instead of his dinner."
Something goes cold inside of Stede's chest. "And why shouldn't I have you put in shackles as well, if you're part of the reason he's been in captivity all this time?"
"Because I'm the only reason he's in captivity instead of on the sea bed with his bones getting picked clean by fishes," Izzy evenly replies. "Ned Low is a sick man. What's been done to Edward is horrible, but it's better than death, perhaps. It's... the best I could do for him."
Stede can smell the regret on him, and the shame, and it's the only thing that convinces him to save this argument for another, less dire time. "Fine. If you're so good at reading his moods, what does he need right now?"
Blackbeard drags himself away from his frenzied lungfuls of Stede's scent to lock eyes with Izzy, and a moment passes between them as Izzy cocks his head consideringly. "He's scared, mostly. Thinks he's going to have to fight more to protect-- well, to protect you, I suppose. He'll be hungry, too, and cold. There's only three things he ever seems to want, and the first two are a warm blanket and a full belly."
"And the third?" Stede asks, already laying plans in his mind.
Izzy just raises his eyebrows. "What every alpha wants out of a pretty, unmated omega."
"Oh," Stede says, face going red. Blackbeard's face darts back to the crook of Stede's throat where his scent is strongest, and Stede certainly hopes he's not smelling the instinctual zip of arousal that had just raced up his spine. "Yes, well, I can certainly oblige regarding the first two. Jim, Pete, bring me that necklace and then take Ned out of here, please, so that we can all relax. And Izzy, will you go to the galley and have Roach fix a tray of whatever it is that Blackbeard likes best to eat? Something simple, preferably. I'll see if I can't get him to calm down and eat something."
Jim and Pete move to obey, but Izzy seems more cautious. "Perhaps it's best if I handle the feeding. I know you mean to help, but as an unmated omega, if he gets his teeth on you in the wrong place--"
"I know the risks," Stede says sharply, and there Blackbeard goes growling again at the displeasure in Stede's tone. "Do as I ask."
Izzy grunts skeptically, but he goes. Stede spends the ensuing minutes maneuvering himself and Blackbeard over to the couch, where Stede drapes a blanket of cashmere around his shoulders. He sits on the cushions and Blackbeard falls to his knees before him, leaning up to keep rubbing his muzzle over Stede's throat and wrists in turn, as if determined to milk every single pheromone from Stede's glands. Stede lets him do it, making senseless little shushing noises all the while.
After what seems like ages, Izzy returns with a tray of cubed cheeses and little cut up pieces of fruit, along with one more disapproving look. "Yell if he gets agitated," Izzy offers dubiously. "I... know how to subdue him, if it comes to that."
"It won't," Stede says sternly. "You're dismissed."
The door shuts behind Izzy with a firm click, and Stede returns his attention to Blackbeard, who looks up at him with pleading eyes. His hands, despite no longer being bound, are still held resolutely behind his back. Stede wonders how often he gets use of them, for him to instinctively hold them like that. "You're not feral at all, are you?" he murmurs to Blackbeard, so quietly it could almost be to himself. "You're a clever alpha. You're just doing what you have to in order to survive, aren't you, darling?"
Blackbeard shivers.
"No one is going to hurt you here," Stede assures him. "My name is Stede Bonnet and I'm the captain of this ship, and every member of this crew is gentle and kind. Well, for pirates, anyways, I suppose. But they won't lay a finger on you unless I say so, and I have no intention of doing any such thing. You're safe here, alright?" He pauses for a moment, waiting for a response, and slowly, cautiously, Blackbeard gives a jerky nod. "That's a clever boy. Now what about me, am I safe here as well?"
Instantly Blackbeard snarls, head whipping to glare at the door, and despite the muzzle Stede hears his meaning loud and clear. If anyone tries to hurt you, they'll answer to me.
"That's not what I meant, darling alpha, I'm quite sure you'd do an excellent job protecting me," Stede soothes at once. "I meant... I'm going to take this muzzle off now, so that you can eat. Is that going to be safe for me, alpha?"
Now Blackbeard's shoulders droop, his eyes going wide and hurt, as if to say, I would never hurt you, omega.
Stede feels guilty at once. "I know, darling, that's what I thought. I just had to make sure. I'm going to take this off you now, alright? Be quite still for me, so I don't pull at your lovely curls."
Blackbeard goes statue-still at once, eyes the only thing moving as they track Stede's hands picking up the key Jim had left on the table. When the hand and the key disappear from his line of sight, he looks at Stede's face instead, their eyes meeting as Stede feels around for the little padlock and slots the key inside. It opens with a click, and Stede moves slowly, carefully to pull the leather and metal contraption over Blackbeard’s head until he's free of it at last.
He's beautiful. There are little angry red lines across his cheekbones and beneath his jaw where the leather has chafed his skin, too tight by far, but even still he's lovely. Plush pink lips and a little dark scruff that's starting to go gray in places, making the slender arcs of his eyelashes seem even more delicate than before. Blackbeard works his jaw from side to side, stretching the muscles while keeping his lips resolutely sealed, as if to say my teeth are no threat to you. You can trust me.
"There now, that's better," Stede says a little breathily. "I believe I heard Izzy call you Edward earlier. Is that your name, darling?"
Blackbeard takes a shaky breath in, lips barely parting. His voice is like a painful croak. "Ed."
"That's excellent, Ed, thank you for telling me," praises Stede. "Do you remember my name?"
"Omega," Ed croaks at once.
Stede reaches for the pitcher of water, nice and slow, shaking his head as he pours a glass. "That's my designation, not my name. Call me Stede, alright?"
Ed seems a little reluctant as he echoes, "Stede," but he lets Stede tip water into his mouth and drinks it greedily, without reservation, so that's a start.
It's slow going, getting Ed to eat. Stede tries to convince him that he can help himself, but Ed seems skeptical of having both his hands and his mouth free all at once, so he doesn't move to take any of the tray's offerings until Stede picks up a cube of cheese between two fingers and offers it to him. Ed takes it like that, cautiously, taking great care not to let his dangerous teeth brush over Stede skin even somewhere as harmless as his fingertips. How anyone could have ever called him feral when he's so very gentle is beyond Stede. He's no animal, letting Stede place little sweet berries on his tongue. Just broken.
It's easier to convince Ed to join him on the couch, Stede leaning up against one arm with Ed between his legs, Ed's back pressed to Stede's chest, probably because he's surrounded by Stede's warmth and his scent this way. He goes boneless against Stede, taking each bite of food he's offered so, so gently and chewing it eagerly, like he's starving. He probably is; Stede can feel how thin Ed is, missing the usual bulk of muscle typical for alphas. "You will always be warm and well-fed here," he says firmly, just in case Ed hasn't already guessed it. "I take care of my crew, alright? They're my pack, and I make sure they have everything they need."
Ed hums silently, apparently not a man of many words, but this one sounds more like a purr than a growl. He continues taking Stede's offerings until the tray is almost empty, and then he rolls over in Stede's arms until their fronts are pressed together, Ed's arms pinned by the blanket Stede had firmly wrapped him in. His nose finds the crook of Stede's neck, Stede going tense for a moment at the proximity to his mating gland, but he forces himself to exhale as he feels how very firmly Ed's lips are pressed together. Not a threat. Not a threat. Not a threat.
Ed's well-behaved teeth are the opposite of his hips, however, which have begun to rut against Stede's thigh. Stede's mind flashes to what Izzy had told him, about the only three things Ed ever seemed to want. Warmth, food, and...
He should put a stop to this at once. This is something more complicated than just helping the alpha calm himself, or making sure that he's warm and fed. He doesn't even know this man, for all that his instincts are driving him to care for the alpha. If Stede is smart, he'll nip this in the bud right away and lay down a firm boundary, leave off any sort of intimacy until Ed is at least speaking in multi-word sentences. Really, truly, they should have a conversation about this.
But already Stede can feel himself getting a little slick just at the feeling of Ed's cock grinding against his hip, and well, no one's ever accused Stede of being smart anyways.
"Is there something else you need?" he asks, just to be sure there's no misinterpretation. Arousal does not mean consent, after all, and Ed has already been hurt too much for Stede to risk hurting him again, even accidentally. Ed nods against Stede's collarbone. "Tell me what you need, darling, so I can help you."
Ed grinds his hips harder. "Touch me."
Two whole words-- progress already! Stede persists. "Where?"
"My cock."
Well, that's pretty clear. Now Stede's just being picky as he tells Ed, "Say please."
"Please," Ed begs, and that's good enough for Stede.
He reaches down and works his hand inside of Ed's trousers, wrapping his hand around the hard length of Ed's cock. "You mustn't bite me, alright?" he reminds Ed, just in case, and Ed nods eagerly against his shoulder. "Just relax, and I'm going to take care of you. You're always safe here, clever boy."
As it turns out, Ed doesn't need him to do much. It's not so much Stede stroking off Ed as it is Ed rutting into Stede's hand, little grunts filling the silence of the room as he fucks Stede's palm. This is as feral as Stede's seen him yet, chasing his release, but even still he's restrained, lips staying closed so near to temptation and hands remaining contentedly inside of his blanket. It could almost pass for a purely physical thing, except for the way Ed moans as he comes, licking a stripe up Stede's throat as he whispers, "My omega."
His seed, copious in the way an alpha's always is, makes quick work of seeping through Ed and Stede's clothes alike, and Stede suppresses a sigh as he realizes it'll take days to get the smell of the alpha off of his skin. This is getting complicated fast. Still, Stede thinks as he removes his hand from Ed's trousers and wipes it clean on a handkerchief from his pocket, this is far from the worst kind of complicated situation he could get himself tangled up in. There are worse problems to have than a seemingly sweet, needy alpha who wants nothing more than warmth, food, and orgasms and is willing to fight to protect you in return.
No, Stede decides, Ed's not a problem at all. Getting Stede's heart to behave itself, on the other hand, may prove difficult. Luckily he's a stubborn kind of man.