Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The gardener installs the swing on a mahogany tree tucked back from the house, and doesn’t tell Stede’s parents. It’s the nicest thing Stede can remember anyone doing for him. He spends as much time as he can out there, pumping his small legs back and forth, pretending he’s riding the ocean’s swells as the swing traces its arc through the air.

One day, Stede is catching his breath after digging his heels into the ground to stop the swing (he doesn’t like jumping off; it’s too scary), when he gets the sense that someone is watching him. He looks up, panicked that his father has found out about the swing, panicked about what that means for him and for John, the gardener. 

It’s not his dad, though; it’s another boy, around his age. His dark hair is tangled, his face streaked with tears, and he’s got an expression on his face that’s half-calculating, half-awestruck. “Hullo,” says Stede.

“What is that?” the boy says.

Well, that’s a bit rude. Stede knows when you meet someone, you’re supposed to tell them your name and shake their hand, and you also have to listen when they say their name so you don’t forget. He stands up from the swing, and takes a few steps towards the other boy, who looks like he might bolt, but he doesn’t. “Hello,” Stede tries again. “My name is Stede Bonnet. It’s nice to meet you.” He extends his right hand. There’s a pause. “You’re supposed to shake my hand and tell me your name,” he reminds the other boy. It took him a few times to remember it, too.

“I’m Ed,” says the other boy and sticks his hand out, mirroring Stede but not taking his hand. Stede reaches out and grabs Ed’s hand, giving it two firm shakes as the other boy flinches. “Sorry,” says Stede, a reflex, withdrawing his hand.

“‘S okay,” says Ed. “Hi, Stede.”

Stede beams. No one gets his name right the first time. “Hi, Ed.”

“What is it, though?” Ed asks, pointing at the swing.

“Oh!” says Stede. “It’s a swing, but I pretend it’s a ship sometimes.”

“How does it work?” asks Ed.

“Here, I’ll show you. Sit down.”

Ed narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Really?”

“Of course. Sit down and then walk backwards. Now let go with your legs and move them back and forth in the air so you keep going.”

It takes Ed a few tries to get the rhythm right, but once he does, he’s good . Stede watches in awe. He’s pretty sure he never goes that high. Ed is laughing, and it’s such a happy sound that Stede can’t stop smiling. 

“How do you stop it?” Ed calls after a few minutes, as he whooshes by Stede.

“You can jump off,” says Stede, “But I usually just wai–”

Ed’s already in a heap on the ground. Stede runs over to make sure he’s okay, but the other boy is still laughing, his eyes glowing with joy. “That was fun ,” he says, standing up. “Why do you pretend it’s a ship?”

Stede shrugs, looking down and scuffing the ground with his foot. When he told his parents this, his mother got all pinched-looking and his father yelled at him about responsibility and getting his head out of the clouds and being a man . The boys he knows in town laughed at him and called him a baby. Baby Bonnet . He hates his name. He shouldn’t have said anything to Ed, but the other boy is still looking at him curiously, and he can’t come up with a good lie.

“I… want to be a pirate,” he says.

Ed laughs, and Stede braces himself for the worst. “A pirate?!” he exclaims. “But you’re already rich! You’re going to be a gentleman someday!”

Stede clenches his jaw. He hates being reminded of that. It sounds so boring. It is so boring. All his father does all day long is look at big books with figures instead of stories, and yell at people. Especially at Stede. “I want to have adventures,” he says softly, and waits for Ed to mock him.

But instead Ed steps closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Stede looks up. “Adventures sound fun, mate,” says Ed. “Let’s be pirates together!” 

“Really?” says Stede. No one ever wants to play with him. 

“Of course, man!” says Ed.

At that moment, Stede hears his father’s voice come from the house. “ STEDE BONNET, GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT ,” he’s shouting.

Stede winces.

Ed says, “Later, then, okay?” and runs away before Stede can say anything.

That night – after his father has dispatched the tutor to lecture Stede about not finishing his sums, after a silent dinner where Stede’s mom said nothing except to tell him to stop kicking his legs at the table, after his governess reads him another boring section of “The Pilgrim’s Progress  – Stede lies in bed thinking about the boy he met. Ed. He wonders why Ed had been crying before they talked, and he also wonders if he might have made Ed up.

Chapter Text

Ed doesn’t go back to the fancy Bonnet house with his mom for three days.

On the first day, he has to go to the docks with his dad and beg. He gets half a loaf of bread from a passing merchant, and a fisherman brings him 4 too-small-to-sell fish. Then a very fancy-looking lady gives him a sliver of a piece of eight, and Ed’s eyes go big. He can’t even imagine what all he could buy with that. He glances around. His dad is nowhere to be seen. He chews his lip. He puts the coin in the secret pocket he sewed into the inside of his shirt.

On the second day, his dad is busy drinking away what he earned gutting fish the day before, but Ed goes back to the docks anyway. Someone gives him a big lump of sugar that he sucks on, enjoying the sweetness dissolving on his tongue. He doesn’t get any money, but he does bring home two bruised mangos for his mom, and she gives him a big hug. But then that night, he pulls out his piece of coin to admire it, and is so absorbed in imagining what he might buy his mom with it that he doesn’t notice his dad staggering in the door, and he doesn’t have time to hide it again.

On the third day, Ed stays in bed and cries.

On the fourth day, Ed’s mom takes him back to the fancy house. She keeps her hand on his head the whole walk, petting his hair. At the house, she reminds him he can sit in the kitchen with the cooks or play on the back parts of the grounds, but not to go where the family will see him. Ed hangs out in the kitchen where he knows the kitchen maids will sneak him the soft rolls that turn out too misshapen to serve, and little bites of seafood stew. After the luncheon, he goes outside and creeps back to the grove of trees where he saw the Bonnet boy ( Stede , he reminds himself) playing on his silly, wonderful swing .

He’s there. He’s got his head tipped back, and his blond curls are hanging down, freed from the top of his head by gravity. Ed wonders what it would be like to just be able to… play. All day. Stede’s definitely never had to cut off fish heads while sailors spit and say horrible things over his head. He probably wouldn’t eat a bruised mango. He probably wouldn’t even care if he found a part of a piece of eight. It’s so unfair that Ed wants to scream. He decides he should just leave, let this rich kid get on with his swinging, but before he can turn away, he hears Stede say, “Ed!” breathless and delighted.

Stede stops pumping his legs and, after a few passes, plants his feet in the ground to stop himself. He’s grinning at Ed like he’s never been so happy to see anyone. “Hey, Stede,” Ed says. 

“You came back!” Stede says. “I thought– well, I’m really glad you’re here.”

“What did you think?” asks Ed.

Stede looks embarrassed. “I kind of thought you… might not be real? Like I might have imagined you.”

Ed grins. Who would make him up? “Nah, I’m real,” he says, and pinches his arm in demonstration. “And of course I came back, you promised me an adventure!”

Stede smiles. “Would you really… play pirates with me?” he asks. Ed doesn’t really understand what playing pirates means, but he’s game to find out. He nods.

Immediately, Stede dives into a clump of nearby bushes. He rustles around for a minute, and then backs out, covered in leaves and triumphantly brandishing a lumpy-looking bag. He dumps its contents out on the ground. There are two wooden swords and two wooden shields, just the right size for their arms, painted in beautiful colors; some soft-looking cloth; a small chest.

“Wow,” says Ed.

“These are our weapons and these are for our costumes and this is the treasure chest with our booty,” Stede says in one breath, pointing as he goes. (Ed giggles at booty .) He’s wearing some thin green thing around his neck, nestled into his frilly collar, which he tugs off and then ties around his forehead. “You don’t have a cravat,” he observes, looking at Ed.

“Uh… no,” says Ed. He doesn’t know what a cravat is.

“That’s okay, you can wear a kerchief instead. Here, you’re taller than me, sit down and I’ll put it on.” Ed kneels on the grass and lets Stede wrap one of the soft patterned cloths around his hair, knotting it at the nape of his neck. “Okay,” he says when he’s done. “Now we’re pirates, and we chase each other with swords and we try to steal each other’s stuff and get the treasure.” He hands Ed a sword and a shield, and picks one up himself, then lunges at Ed, brandishing his sword and yelling, “AVAST YE! Give up your booty now, I say!”

Ed giggles, puts his shield up in defense, returns the jab with his own sword. “You scurvy dog!” he shouts, which is something he heard a sailor say at the dock once. “You scallywag! You won’t get my treasure, I’m the greatest pirate who ever lived!”

Eventually, after many clacks of the wooden swords and increasingly silly insults, both boys collapse to the ground, howling with laughter. Eventually Ed pulls himself upright and asks, “What’s in the treasure chest? Don’t say booty.”

Stede giggles, and pries it open. “It’s just a cake! We can share it.” 

Ed looks in, his mouth watering. The cake is small and round and covered in some kind of melty-looking white stuff. He can smell the sugar and something sharp and tangy wafting out of the box. “It– it looks good,” he says. He sits on his hands so he doesn’t reach in and start pulling fistfuls out.

Stede says, “It’s my favorite,” as he tugs two plates and a knife out of the box. He lifts the cake up and cuts it into four pieces, puts one on each plate, and pushes aside the other half. He digs back into the chest and comes up with two forks. He hands a plate and a fork to Ed, saying, “The silver cabinet with the dessert forks is too high up for me to reach, so these are salad forks. Sorry.”

Ed has no idea what that means, and he doesn’t care. He can’t stop staring at the cake. “Are– are you sure it’s okay for… for me to eat this? Um, for us to eat it?” he asks.

“Of course, silly! The cook made it for me,” says Stede. He’s already taken a bite of his. “Come on, try it!”

Ed bites his lip, uses the edge of his fork to slice off a bit of cake. Cautiously he brings it to his mouth. 

It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Ever. His eyes go wide and he barely swallows before he has another bite in his mouth, and another.

Stede has a satisfied little look on his face. “I thought you’d like it,” he says, almost smug. “It’s got lots of oranges in it.”

“Like… three?” Ed guesses. That sounds like a lot to him. 

“NO! I said lots .”

“Five?” (Stede shakes his head.) “Ten?”

Stede’s trying not to laugh. Ed gets the impression that he thinks Ed’s joking by naming small numbers. He doesn’t know if he should keep going. He feels a little angry.

“FORTY!” Stede bursts out, unable to keep it in any longer. Ed can’t tell if Stede is serious. He doesn’t think forty oranges would fit in this little cake, but he also doesn’t want to ask. Then Stede dissolves into giggles again – and he’s got an infectious laugh, and it’s easiest to join in – so Ed does too.

When they finish eating, they’re both sticky, covered in dirt and sweat and sugar. Ed grimaces, looking at his rough linen shirt, knowing he’ll have to scrub it out at the docks tonight and it’ll probably still be damp and smelling of fish tomorrow. But Stede . His clothes are so pretty, soft and shiny sky blue, and the dirt is just… there, mucking it all up.

“Your clothes are all dirty,” he says. “Won’t you get in trouble?” 

Stede looks down, shrugs. “These aren’t very special clothes,” he says. “I’ll just have the laundress wash them, they’ll be okay.”

Ed feels his stomach clench. That’s his mom. She does the laundry for the Bonnets. She told him once how she has to be really really careful not to mess them up because they’re so fancy and cost so much money. Now she has to wash Stede’s clothes that he helped make dirty and if it doesn’t work and they’re still dirty she might get in trouble and it will be his fault.

He was going to ask if he could have a second piece of cake, but suddenly he feels sick. He stands up abruptly and says, “I have to go. Thanks, Stede. I had fun today,” and starts running back to the house.

“Wait, Ed–” he hears behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.

Chapter Text

It’s been six days since Stede has seen Ed, six days since he ran away while they were sharing the cake Stede had gotten made for them. Stede spent the first few days wondering, and worrying, about why Ed left. He asked for the cake to be made the very next day after Ed came the first time, so it was a few days old when they ate it. Maybe it was too stale? But he seemed to like it. Maybe he’d decided their game was stupid. He’d asked Stede about his dirty clothes right before he left, maybe he’d realized they were acting childish.

Then it was Sunday and Stede had to go to church and then do family worship, and his father yelled at him again because he was walking too slow because he was smelling the pretty orange flowers lining the street.

Then on Monday, it dawned on Stede that he doesn’t even know who Ed is . He’s pretty sure now that he is real: fake people don’t eat cake and Ed definitely did that. But other than that… where did he come from? Where does he go? He spent the day imagining scenarios about a mysterious boy, living in the woods behind the house, and as he was going to bed it dawned on him what he should have done from the beginning.

***

Now it’s Tuesday morning, and Stede is walking up to the gardener’s shed, where the man is preparing his tools for the day. “Hi, John,” he says, coming in and sitting down on a crate.

“Good morning, young Mister Bonnet,” says John. Stede pulls a face. “How can I help you today?”

“Just wondering what you’re working on today,” Stede says.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Some pruning in the front garden. Your mother’s having a party next week and she wants the topiaries tidied up.”

Stede’s not looking forward to this party. He knows his father invited the Badminton family; they have twin sons about Stede’s age who are horrible. They always push him around and say mean things to him and once they made him stick his hand in the punch bowl and his father saw and boxed his ears in front of everyone. 

But Stede can’t let himself get distracted by that today. He’s got a mission. “That sounds nice, John,” he says. He kicks his heels against the crate a little. John goes back to sharpening some garden shears. “Hey, John?” he says after a minute. The gardener grunts to show he’s listening. “Do – do you know a boy named Ed?” he asks. “I – met him the other day in the garden, and since you know everything about the garden, I thought you might know him too. Does… does he live there? In the garden?”

John laughs. “Ed? About your age, dark hair?” Stede nods. “That’s Anna’s kid – Anna, the laundry gal? He comes with her to work sometimes.”

“Oh,” says Stede. Oh, he thinks. No wonder Ed got mad at him last week. He got the clothes that Anna – that his mother – cleaned for him dirty, and made more work for her. He feels terrible. What if she didn’t get to spend time with Ed because of him? Stede’s own mother doesn’t really like having him around, but he’s seen some of the servants with their kids and he knows it’s not like that for everyone.

“You okay, Stede?” asks John. He looks worried. “Was Ed bothering you?”

“No!” Stede says quickly. “No, he’s… really nice. I just got lost in my thoughts. I’m going to go read now, John, it was very nice to see you.”

John smiles, the sort of smile grownups give when they’re really kind of laughing at kids, but Stede doesn’t care about that just now. He traces the familiar path to his swing, and sits down on it, but doesn’t swing. Instead, he just rocks back and forth on his feet, lost in thought.

He starts when he hears, “Stede?” It’s Ed, walking towards him, looking nervous.

“Ed!” Stede leaps out of the swing.

“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same time, and then, “Why are you sorry?”

Stede laughs, a little hiccup of tears in it. “I – the gardener told me who you are. Don’t be mad at him, please. I didn’t know who your mom was, I’m really really sorry I messed up my clothes and made her do more work.”

Ed’s chewing on his lower lip. “It’s okay,” he says, “You didn’t know. And it was just from our game. I’m sorry I just… ran away. You were being so nice and I left.”

“It’s fine,” says Stede quietly. “I just was worried that – do you still want to play with me?”

“Yes,” Ed says immediately. “I had lots of fun. You make up good games.”

“I don’t have my pirate stuff today,” Stede says.

“That’s okay. We can just swing. I know you said it’s a ship but I think it’s like flying.”

Stede lets Ed have the swing first because he’s so relieved that he came back. He braids some long grasses while Ed swoops and whoops above him. 

“Where are you flying to?” he asks eventually.

“Mmmm. Far away,” says Ed. “Space. The moon.”

“The moon ?! Are you going to go get drunk with the man up there?” He giggles. At his parents’ parties, if he sneaks back downstairs when he’s supposed to be asleep, sometimes the grownups are acting all silly and he’s pretty sure that’s what being drunk is.

But Ed sounds sad, almost scared, when he says, “No. I’m not going to get drunk.” There’s a pause. “Besides,” Ed continues. “It’s not a man up there, it’s Rona, and she has the water that makes it rain. That’s what my mom says.” 

“Hmm,” says Stede. “I like that story better. But I’m not going to the moon. I’m going to Saturn.”

“What’s Saturn?” asks Ed.

“It’s another planet. It’s really big and it has RINGS around it.”

“Like… rings that grownups wear?”

“Yeah, two big solid rings all around it, like on a finger. I think they’re made out of gold and silver and I’m going to lie on one and swoop all around.”

“That sounds fun. Can I visit?”

“Uh huh. Maybe going to the moon will make you really really big and you can wear the rings on your hand.” 

Ed giggles. “But then you’ll just be stuck on my hand and you’ll be all tiny.” 

“Hmm. Bring me some of Rona’s water and it will make me big like you, and then we can still play. But then I get to wear one of the rings.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” says Ed. “Do you wanna swing now?”

They switch places, Ed picking up a stick and digging in the dirt as Stede kicks off on swing. He pictures the swing launching him up, up, up into the sky, and landing on a faraway planet. He thinks again of his father saying he has his head in the clouds , but he knows the moon and Saturn are lots farther away than the clouds.

Eventually, he hears his nanny call him in for tea. “I have to go, Ed,” he says, as he lets the swing slow. “Will you come back again? Next week? On Tuesday again?”

Ed keeps looking at the ground, pokes the dirt a little harder. “Um, yeah,” he says. “I’ll try. I might… sometimes I gotta do other stuff. But I’ll try.”

Stede feels a stab of jealousy that he tries to not let show on his face. Of course Ed has other friends he plays with. He’s fun and funny and he seems to like playing along with Stede’s silly stories. ( Flights of fancy , his tutor says.) Anyone would want to be Ed’s friend.

“Okay,” he says. “Bye, Ed.”

“Bye, Stede.”

Chapter Text

All week long, Ed’s been trying to work hard and also keep his dad from remembering he’s there. He went to a shop and offered to clean in all the back corners where the grownups are too big to reach. It took two days and he had to touch lots of rat poop, but he also got a bag of cornmeal so big that he had to use both hands to carry it home. Then he went to the docks and gutted wahoos for three days and got to take some filets home each night. 

On Monday, when he can’t face another day of smelling stale sailors and rancid seagulls and tangy fish blood, he takes his own little string and a hook he slipped from a fisherman’s box down to his favorite secret cove. He spends hours and hours poking around the reef, and catches six small flying fish. He walks home glowing, because he’s pretty sure his mom is going to be able to make his favorite dish, with the fish and the cornmeal from earlier in the week.

He can feel the tension crackling the second he walks in the house. His mother is standing over the household’s laundry, ignoring the tears dripping into the basin as she resolutely moves a pair of dark trousers over the washboard. His father is sitting in the one chair they own, breathing hard as he swigs from a metal tankard. “Mama?” Ed says, worried.

“Shhh, Eddie, it’s okay,” she says, not lifting her head. “Go put your things down and help me sweep up, okay?”

He tiptoes to the kitchen and sets the fish down on the sideboard, then grabs the corn broom from the corner. 

“‘S woman’s work,” he hears his dad mutter. He freezes, looks up – sees his mom has done the same, and notices the dark bruise blooming around her eye. 

“Mama!” he cries, running to her.

“Shut up , you sniveling little brat,” snarls his father. He tries to shrink back, but his father has already grabbed his arm. He thinks about Saturn as the metal of his father’s ring hits his cheek.

Ed runs out and sits with his back against the rough stone wall of their house until he hears his dad’s snores coming from inside. He creeps back in and huddles against his mother, who squeezes him in close, and gently wipes his tears away with her work-rough thumbs, and smiles sadly when he tries to do the same for her. As he drifts off, huddled in the crook of her arm, he remembers to ask, “Can I come to work with you tomorrow?” 

***

Ed walks down to the grove of trees after the servants have finished bringing in the family’s breakfast dishes, and he’s gotten to eat a leftover soft, crumbly pastry that’s in the shape of a triangle.

No one’s there. Ed sits down on the weird, soft, manicured grass, and digs his fingers down in the dirt, looking for little treasures like worms and pretty rocks. He thinks about his coin from a few weeks ago. He wishes he’d thought to bring it here and bury it, right below the mahogany, next to the swing, where he could find it, but no one else would know about it. 

After a minute he hears footsteps and looks up. Stede is running towards him frantically; he passes Ed and crumples at the base of the tree, pounding the ground with his little fist and making a high-pitched noise.

“...Stede?” says Ed.

Stede gives a little gasp of surprise. “Ed. You’re here. I’m sorry, I – I forgot you were coming today.”

“Are you okay?” asks Ed.

“I – I – I –” Ed watches as Stede chokes on the same word over and over again. He’s still looking at the ground.

“It’s okay,” he says, putting his hand on Stede’s arm.

Stede bursts into tears. “M–my parents h–had… a party l–last night… and… and… these h–horrible boys were there,” he gasps between sobs. “And they pushed me down in the garden r–r–right before s–supper… and ki–kicked me, and I was a–all dirty and my clothes were all mu–mu–mussed up… and everyone saw and my father was s–so angry with m–me and when I told him what happened he said…he said…” Stede shudders, takes a deep breath, and recites in an odd, stiff voice, “I’m a weak-heart, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy.” A few more tears escape and he adds, “And that I need to toughen up and be a real man and he’s ashamed that I’m his son.”

Ed feels like there’s a big storm happening inside his chest. There are little wisps of thoughts teasing like tentacles in the corner of his brain, but the only one he can hang out to is, “I wonder if that was happening at the same time my dad…”

As if reading his mind, Stede suddenly looks up, looks at Ed, for the first time since he arrived in the grove, and gasps. “Ed! What happened to your face?”

He had hoped it didn’t show but he kind of knew it did, because it’s still hurting when he talks or (especially) when he yawned earlier. He clenches his teeth and makes his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms so he doesn’t start screaming. “My…” he trails off. “My dad doesn’t like me, either,” he says eventually. He feels tears welling in his eyes and doesn’t bother to do anything about it, even though the salt stings when it hits the cut.

“Oh, Ed ,” says Stede, and wraps his arms around him.

They cling to each other for a few minutes, both crying, neither talking. Stede pulls away first and shakes himself a little. “Not very manly,” he says.

Ed shrugs. He sees lots of men, all the time, at the docks, and the only reason he sees to be one is that then you can be meaner to anyone else than they are to you. It doesn’t feel like a very good reason right now.

They both sit on the ground in silence for a while. Ed stacks rocks into little towers and then knocks them down. Stede is tracing shapes into the dirt with a stick.

“Sorry, Ed,” Stede says eventually. “I didn’t bring anything fun to play with today.”

“That’s okay, mate,” says Ed. “I don’t really feel like playing.”

“Me neither,” Stede agrees. They lapse back into their own quiet worlds.

“You know.” Stede breaks the silence again. “I was reading about ghosts the other day. They’re the souls of dead people that stay around living people – it’s called haunting – and make them feel odd and unsettled. Maybe our fathers have ghosts and that’s why they’re… angry.”

Ed is pretty sure that’s not why his dad – their dads – are like that. He’s pretty sure that’s just what dads are like, no ghosts needed. He realizes that Stede, tucked back here in his fancy house, has probably never been to the docks, has probably never seen all the little boys and girls there who look just like Ed, or worse. He feels jealous that Stede doesn’t know that, but also feels like Stede must feel kind of lonely. It doesn’t feel good to look at other kids’ faces and know what they’re going through, but at least it’s a kind of togetherness.

“Maybe that’s it,” he says after a minute. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell Stede the truth. It won’t change anything to have him not know. But maybe it will.

When Ed starts to feel his sadness retreat a little further back into his chest, he asks Stede what he’s drawing in the dirt. “Oh,” says Stede. “It’s not drawing, it’s letters. I’m practicing my writing.” Then he skips luncheon to teach Ed the alphabet, and how to write their names. 

“Cool,” says Ed, when he’s done it right three times in a row. Stede smiles.

Eventually, the shadows start to lengthen in their little grove, and Ed stands up. “I should go,” he says. “My mom will be off soon.”

“Okay,” says Stede, standing up as well. He’s got dust on his nose from where he rubbed his face while trying to explain the “Q” to Ed. “Hey, Ed?” he says, as Ed turns to leave.

“Yeah?” says Ed.

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend, too, Stede,” he says, and carries it with him home.

Chapter Text

Ed comes on Tuesdays if he can; not because there’s anything special about Tuesdays, just so there’s a day that Stede knows he should bring whatever he wants to show Ed and not have to worry about hiding it for days or wasting good snacks.

Stede keeps teaching Ed how to write, and teaches him to read from his little primer as well. And, of course, Ed’s really good, asking about bigger and bigger words until one day Stede has to lug a huge dictionary down from the house so they can look them up together.

They go exploring, too, and find a creek, where Ed teaches Stede to skip rocks and find tiny frogs and catch fish with a string and a little hook. Stede squeals with delight when he catches his first fish, and then Ed builds a little fire so they can cook it. It’s almost entirely bones, but it’s the best snack Stede’s ever had.

Stede brings his toy ship to the creek one day so they can sail it; Ed is enchanted by the minute details and hoists the tiny sails with delicate hands. He asks Stede again why he wants to go to sea; Stede tells him about the open water, far away from parents and rules and yelling, where you can do whatever you want, and see dolphins and the whole world.

Ed says, “That sounds fun. Maybe I’ll be a pirate too, someday.”

Stede asks, “Can we sail together?” and Ed says, “Of course, who else would I sail with?”

It’s the happiest Stede has ever been, so of course he messes it up. 

One day, Stede is lying on his back in the grove, making up stories about cloud shapes as the other boy swoops in an arc above him, when it suddenly occurs to him to ask, “Why can’t you come every day, Ed? I have to do my lessons, but what do you do when you’re not here?”

Ed abruptly stops pumping his legs. He lets the swing slow to a stop and doesn’t jump off, for once. “I… have to help my mom, Stede,” he says. “When I’m not here I’m usually at the dock, cleaning fish so we have dinner.”

“But… your mom works,” says Stede. “Here. Doesn’t that mean you have money for dinner and stuff?” He starts to feel a little edge of nervousness.

Ed shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. “Not enough, I guess. Plus my dad… he uses a lot of our money. For stuff he likes. Ale. Horse racing. I dunno.”

Stede thinks about his piggy bank upstairs in his room. “I have pocket money,” he says. “In my piggy bank. Do you want it? We can smash it together.”

Ed looks uncomfortable, almost mad. “ No , Stede,” he says. “I don’t want your money .” He hops off the swing and paces around for a minute. “I don’t – that’s not – no ,” he says again, stamping his foot.

Stede’s nervousness is rapidly turning to panic. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m – sorry, I don’t know, I didn’t mean –” He wants to say, But I don’t need it, and if you take it maybe you can come more often , but he can’t.

Ed’s face softens a little. He unclenches his fists. “I know. It’s not your fault. It’s…” he trails off, chewing on his lip. “It’s just not… like that,” he says eventually.

“Okay,” says Stede. He still doesn’t understand but Ed… knows things that he doesn’t. And if he says it’s not okay, then it must not be. He hopes he didn’t ruin everything. He thinks he might cry. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses his lips together, wills himself to stay calm.

“Stede,” says Ed. “It’s okay. Let’s just forget it, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” says Stede. He hears Ed walk over to him, feels the other boy wrap his arms around Stede’s shoulders.

“Best friends?” says Ed.

“Always,” says Stede, returning the hug.

***

Looking back, Stede feels like he should’ve known; like that conversation should have, somehow, made him realize that everything was going to fall apart. But it didn’t, and so he doesn’t think to be worried about anything except his poor arithmetic when, at supper that night, his father says, “Stede.”

“Yes, father?” he says, straightening up in his seat.

“The servants will be packing the house over the coming weeks,” he says. “I want you to stay out of their way. Don’t interrupt them, don’t slow them down, don’t ask them to leave out books or toys just because you can’t bear to be parted from them for a week. We’re moving in a month’s time; I’ve purchased a plantation upland.”

Stede feels all the blood drain from his body. Moving? Away from the house he knows every inch of? Away from his tree grove, away from his swing, away from the creek, away from–

“What,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, “What about the servants, father? How will they get to the plantation? Is it far away?”

His father scoffs, mutters “ridiculous boy ,” under his breath. “Your nanny will move with us,” he says, “as she has no family of her own. Your tutor has agreed to accompany us until other arrangements can be made. No one else will come, of course, they have lives here in Bridgetown, you fool. There is a village near the plantation; we’ll hire our staff from there.”

Stede’s ears are ringing. “I see,” he chokes out. “Thank you for telling me, father. May I please be excused?”

In his room, Stede sobs until he falls asleep fully dressed. He dreams that he and Ed are laughing together about the tutor’s bushy eyebrows. He dreams of them running away to the moon or the sea. When he wakes up he feels lonelier than he ever has in his life.

It’s while he’s sitting alone in his swing, several days later, that it comes to him: Ed needs to move with them.

It’s obvious, really. Ed’s father is mean, and if Ed moves he won’t have to be around him anymore. Stede’s father is mean, too, but it’ll be easier to bear if Ed is there. And Ed had said they don’t have enough money so it’ll be good if his mother doesn’t need to feed him. Stede gets an uncomfortable squirm in his stomach thinking about Ed’s mother, about how much Ed loves her, but… he’ll figure it out. Maybe she can come too, somehow. Anyway, the important thing is, he and Ed will be brothers, like they were meant to be anyway.

After his lessons, he stays at his desk, and takes out a sheet of paper. He writes in careful print at the top, LESSONS FOR ED . He hates everything about being a polite young gentleman , as his mother says, but he knows if he has any chance of his father agreeing to this, he needs to make sure Ed can act like Stede – better than Stede, even.

He moves the pen down the page. Sums , he writes. Ed can already read and write almost as well as Stede, but Stede hasn’t taught him arithmetic because it’s horrible. Ed will probably be good at it, though.

Dining , he adds, because Ed told him once that at home he eats with a plate and a spoon – just one of each. He can show him a real place setting.

Greetings and meeting people is next, after Stede thinks about needing to remind Ed to shake his hand when they met.

He writes Dancing and then crosses it out, because dancing with girls is scary and terrible, but then he writes it again because they might have fun if they could do it together.

Stede decides to start with tea. It’ll be fun and he can do it in the clearing if he plans well. On Monday, after everyone has gone to bed, he slips downstairs to get his mother’s picnicking tea set, then steals into the kitchen to fill up the sugar dish and grab a small box of tea leaves. Back upstairs, he draws his curtains back so he’ll awaken at first light.

In the morning, Stede enters the kitchen as the cook is starting breakfast. He’s already dressed for the day, in one of his favorite outfits, the one that’s the color of the sea on the sunniest day. He gives the cook his most winning smile and asks her for a canteen of hot water and a small flask of milk. She looks at him curiously, but she likes him, so she doesn’t ask questions.

Stede is putting the finishing touches on the tea when Ed arrives. It took him two trips to bring everything down; the picnic basket is almost too heavy for him to carry even without food in it, but now everything is laid out – the teapot, sugar bowl, and cream pitcher as the centerpiece on top of the basket; their two tea cups and the platter of scones on the blanket they’ll sit on.

Ed approaches, curious. “What’s this?” he asks.

“We’re going to have a proper tea,” says Stede. “I’ll serve you, sit down.”

“Okay,” Ed answers. He doesn’t even ask why, always game for anything Stede dreams up. He sits on the blanket, cross-legged, and watches as Stede carefully pours the tea out. “These are pretty,” he says, poking the delicate purple flowers twining around his cup. “What are they?”

“Oh,” says Stede. “It’s lavender. It’s my mother’s favorite flower, we have some in the garden. I’ll show you someday.” He wonders if his mother will have a garden at the plantation. He pictures himself and Ed in a freshly-planted garden, still smelling of dirt, watching fat bumblebees tip the delicate flowers over. 

“Stede?” says Ed, and Stede shakes himself. “Sorry,” he says. He grabs the sugar bowl and little tongs and asks, “One lump or two?”

“Four,” says Ed. Stede giggles. “I hate tea,” says Ed, “and we never have any sugar at home.” Stede adds the four lumps. Ed stirs, takes a sip. “Two more?” he says. Stede can’t even imagine six sugars in tea, but if Ed wants it, he’ll have it. He puts in two more.

Ed takes another sip, makes a face. “Two more?” he says. 

Stede reminds himself that he’s supposed to be teaching Ed proper tea etiquette. He’ll never be able to have eight sugars when he’s living with the Bonnets. “Ed…” he says.

“Fine,” Ed says. “ One more.”

Ed is grinning at him expectantly. He adds the seventh lump of sugar. “I don’t think you can have that much sugar when you’re a gentleman,” he finally manages.

Ed shrugs. “So what? I’m not a gentleman, who cares? I’ll have seven sugars. That’s how they drink tea on the moon anyway. Probably pirates too. You should try it.”

Stede knows this is the moment, this is when he should tell Ed about the move and his plan for Ed to come, to join the family. “Any milk?” he says instead.

“Just a dollop,” says Ed, affecting a snooty voice before dissolving into giggles.

Stede puts in three lumps of sugar in his own tea, instead of his usual two. He tries Ed’s but spits it out; Ed laughs until he can barely breathe. They each eat three scones, and chase each other around the clearing all day, sugar singing through their veins.

Stede doesn’t say anything about the move.

Chapter Text

It is a beautiful day and Ed is trying to remember which one is the fish fork and which is the seafood fork. He doesn’t care, is the main problem, and he doesn’t know why Stede does either, since normally Stede makes the worst, silliest faces whenever he talks about fancy dinners. Stede has been weird the last two times Ed’s been up, and Ed’s a little nervous about it.

“Stede?” he says. “This is fun and all but… can we go to the creek? I usually eat fish with my hands.”

Stede gets a worried little crease between his eyebrows, but then sighs and stands up. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go. This isn’t fun, Ed, you don’t have to lie to be nice. It’s boring and awful.”

Ed giggles. “It is kinda boring. Why did you bring all this stuff down here, man?”

Stede doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “I’ll race you,” and takes off running down the hill. Ed lets him win, because he feels bad about calling Stede’s lesson boring, even though they both know it’s true.

They didn’t bring Stede’s ship or Ed’s fishing equipment today, so they just take off their shoes and hop upstream, slipping over mossy rocks, until they reach a calm spot. Stede takes a step and goes up to his knees, then leaps back with a yelp. “Oh, it’s deep ,” he says. 

Ed’s already slipped in and dives under the water, opening his eyes to see if there are any fish around (there aren’t). He resurfaces and Stede is staring at him with huge eyes. “You can swim ?” he asks.

“‘Course,” says Ed. He doesn’t remember learning to swim, just like he doesn’t remember learning how to walk. He just does it. “You should know how to swim, too,” he adds. “Pirates have to know how to swim, you’re on the ocean all the time .”

“You’re on a ship ,” corrects Stede. “But you’re probably right.”

“Yeah, I’m right!” says Ed. “You could fall off! A wave could get you! You could – you could have to walk the plank .” 

Stede laughs. “Okay, okay. Will you teach me?”

So Ed shows him how to kick, and blow bubbles, and hold his breath. He’s pretty good at it, a little nervous, but willing to do it over and over and over again until he gets it right. His blond hair sparkles when the light catches on the drops of water weighing down the curls, and Ed thinks Stede looks like he might be magic. Eventually, they haul themselves out of the water, and lie in the warm grass as the sun dries them.

“That was good,” says Ed. “You’re a natural. If we keep practicing, you’ll be as good as me in a month or two.” He doesn’t understand why Stede looks like he might cry.

***

It’s a couple days later that Ed’s sitting at his mom’s feet in front of the fire. His mom is smoothing his hair, and he’s whittling a piece of wood he found; he’s trying to make little figures of him and Stede to put on the ship. His dad isn’t home, and the house is warm and calm.

“Eddie, I’ll be home late tomorrow,” his mom says. “Can you make dinner?”

“Sure,” says Ed. “Why’re you going to be late?”

“I’m going to the Carmody estate after work,” she says. “They need a new laundress, so I’m going to apply.”

Ed’s skin prickles. He twists around and looks up at his mother. “What? Why?” he says.

She frowns a little. “Haven’t you been spending much time in the kitchen there lately?” she asks. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard, it feels like the only thing anyone’s talking about. The Bonnets are moving in a couple weeks, up into the hills. The man bought a plantation, so we all need to find new work.”

There’s a roaring in Ed’s ears. The Bonnets are moving ? He hasn’t been to the kitchen, not in weeks; he and Stede came to an unspoken agreement to meet at their clearing as early as possible every day, so he just goes straight there when he gets to the house now. 

They’ve been playing together all day, at least once a week, and Stede hasn’t said anything .

“Eddie? Are you okay?” says his mom, and he realizes he’s still staring at her. 

Ed means to say yes. Instead, he bursts into tears.

“Ed!” his mother says, slipping out of the chair, to the floor, gathering him into her arms, holding him close. “Oh, Ed, what’s wrong?”

Ed hasn’t told his mother what he does at the Bonnets every week. He knows she wouldn’t approve. He knows that, even more, she’d be terrified of how much the Bonnets wouldn’t approve. But he can’t hold it in anymore. He leans into her chest, crying even harder for a few seconds, before forcing himself to take a deep breath.

“I… made friends with their son,” he says, letting out a shuddering breath. “He hasn’t… he didn’t tell me they were leaving.” That’s as far as he gets before he’s crying again.

“Oh, Ed,” his mother says. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She holds him close, rocking him like he’s a baby again. “You know you shouldn’t have done that, right? We’re not like them. They’re not like us. We can’t be friends with them.”

“I know,” he whispers, maybe not loud enough for her to hear. “But he was so nice .” 

***

He sleeps terribly and wakes up as soon as his mother stirs. He slides off his mat and is dressed in seconds, and by the time she’s fully awake, he’s waiting by the door. “I’m coming with you,” he says. “I can walk home from the road to the Carmody house. I know the way. I’ll still make dinner.”

His mom looks at him. She looks concerned. She looks like she knows she’s going to lose. “Only because they’re leaving soon,” she says.

Stede’s not at the clearing, which makes sense. They hadn’t planned to meet today; Ed doesn’t even know if he’ll come at all. He paces the little grove, biting his lip, trying not to cry, for what feels like hours. Finally, he hears footsteps. His heart jumps. 

“Ed!” Stede sounds delighted. “I wasn’t expec– …ting you,” he trails off as he sees the look on Ed’s face.

“You’re leaving ,” Ed says. He means it to be angry, accusatory, but his voice breaks halfway through, because he can see Stede crumple in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Ed, I’m sorry,” Stede says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“I – tried, I wanted to, but I – couldn’t.”

“ Stede ,” says Ed.

“Ed,” says Stede. “I was thinking – what if… what if you came with us? I can talk to my father. You can live with us. We could be brothers, for real.”

Even though he knows it’s not real, can’t be real, for half a second, Ed lets himself picture it. Clean clothes, hot water, more food than anyone at the table could eat. Spending every day with Stede, laughing, talking, running through huge grounds, finding new hidden places to turn into their planets, their oceans. And then he pictures his mom, alone at the house with his dad’s anger. He pictures Stede’s father looking at him like he’s nothing, worse than nothing. 

“I can’t, Stede,” he says. “You know that.”

They’re both crying. “I don’t want to go,” Stede says. “You’re the – the only friend I’ve ever had.”

Ed doesn’t know what to say. Stede’s the only friend he’s ever had, too. He thinks about his mom saying that they’re too different, they can’t be friends. She’s right, but she’s wrong, too.

“I’ll write you letters,” says Stede. “I’ll come to Bridgetown whenever we need supplies, I’ll ride down, they can’t stop me. We’ll run away together.”

“Where will we go?” Ed asks. It’s automatic; he knows it won’t happen but he can’t stop himself from wanting to hear what Stede’s dreamed up.

“India,” says Stede immediately. “They make tea and sugar, we’ll steal it all and you can have eight sugars every day. Or China. They do too, and they have silk.”

Ed laughs. “China,” he says. “Definitely. I want a hundred silk robes.”

Stede gives him a watery, hopeful smile. “Good,” he says. 

There’s a moment of silence. “When do you leave?” asks Ed.

“Next Friday,” Stede whispers. “A week.” 

“I’ll come every day, if I can,” Ed promises. 

Chapter Text

Stede is sitting in the family carriage, barely past daybreak, willing himself not to weep as the horses jolt into motion. It will be more than a half-day’s ride to the new house, and he can feel his father’s eyes boring into him even with his head lowered. 

He said goodbye to Ed the day before. He gave Ed a letter that read:

Dear Ed,

You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’ve taught me so much and you’re so fun. I promise we’ll sail to China someday, and go to the moon too if we can. 

Your best friend friend forever,

Stede

He'd looked up every word to make sure he spelled them all right.

Ed gave him two tiny wooden figures he’d made, and told him it was them, for his ship, so they could sail together.

They both cried. Then Ed had wrapped his hand around Stede’s and dragged him to the edge of the rainforest, past the Bonnets’ property line, away from all the other houses. It was quiet, but also noisy, with birds singing and insects chirping. “What are we doing?” asked Stede.

Ed didn’t answer, and instead opened his mouth and yelled, a long, wordless scream. He paused for breath and the forest was more quiet around them, all the animals shocked into silence by the noise. Ed looked at Stede, who knew what to do. They both yelled, still holding hands, until they were gasping for air.

“It helps,” said Ed, his voice hoarse.

“It does,” agreed Stede.

Stede thinks now that he’ll have to find a quiet spot as soon as he gets to the new house, somewhere no one will hear him screaming, whenever it’s too much. He hopes that sometimes he and Ed will both be screaming on different sides of the island at the same time, and that he’ll know somehow.

The carriage has been silent, all three of the Bonnets lost in their thoughts, but now Stede’s father clears his throat. “I was able to arrange for you to start at the boarding school in Speightstown in a few weeks’ time,” he says. “You’ll be free from lessons until then. I’ll be too busy with the planting to take you, but Commander Badminton has agreed to transport you when he takes his sons. I do hope this school will live up to its promise to toughen you up.”

Stede bites the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting outwardly, but still feels a few tears slip down his cheeks. He doesn't think there are places to scream at boarding school. “Pathetic,” he hears his father mutter.

He wraps his hand around the two wooden figures in his pocket, and promises himself that it’ll be okay, and that someday he’ll find Ed again.

Chapter Text

When Blackbeard steps onto the deck of the Spanish galleon, the golden hair like a halo around the dying man on the deck draws his eyes like a beacon. A moment ago, Ed wouldn’t have been able to explain Blackbeard’s obsession with the Gentleman Pirate. But in the space of a breath, his world has been rearranged into a pattern he didn’t know he remembered, but which is as familiar as his own skin. That beautiful soft face, now angular and gently lined. Those beautiful soft clothes, more ornate than they used to be. Ed steps closer, his heart in his throat, and says, “The Gentleman Pirate, I presume?” trying to capture that grandeur Stede loved so much. Loves so much. “You’ve heard of me?” Stede gasps, and his delighted hazel eyes haven’t changed at all, not at all. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of you. I’ve heard all about you,” Ed answers, a thousand memories flooding his brain. And then as those eyes start to fade, Ed starts to move.