Chapter Text
Don Roderigo 'El Cuervo' Villanueva
Shipwreck Cove — just after the defeat of Lord Cutler Beckett and Davy Jones
Rain lashed the weathered stone spires of Shipwreck Cove, thunder rolling in over the heaving black sea. The Brethren Court had long since dispersed, leaving only the echo of voices and the heavy scent of powder and smoke. A new tide was rising, but not every man stayed to greet it.
Eduardo Villanueva stood alone on the cliff’s edge, his dirtied coat battered by the wind and tides, hair clinging to his brow. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword as a crutch against the heavy weight building in his chest. He watched the storm with the hollow gaze of a man spent. Salt stung his lips; regret, more than rain, chilled his bones.
Behind him, slow footsteps scraped over the wet rock. Each step sure, deliberate, as if the man had all the time in the world. Eduardo didn’t need to turn. He knew that gait—the weight of a man born to wait out storms.
A voice, low and cold as iron. “Leaving so soon, hermano?”
Eduardo didn’t turn. “This place was never truly mine.”
“No,” Roderigo agreed, stepping up beside him, cloak drawn close against the rain. He looked younger, yet the edge in his eyes was ancient. Sharp. A single black feather twisted through the braid at his temple, marking him for those who knew the old tales.
“You always thought this life was about honor,” Roderigo said, voice soft but relentless. “But pirates don’t thrive by codes, brother. They thrive by leverage. By fear. By gold.”
He let the words settle.
“And by patience.”
Eduardo’s mouth twisted. “Is that what you’ve become? A broker of kings’ secrets and coin?”
Roderigo’s smile was thin as a blade. “No, hermano. I buy kings.”
Thunder crashed again, the sea boiling far below.
“You’ll twist the title further,” Eduardo said quietly. “Corrupt it more.”
Roderigo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No. I’ll adapt it. A crown that cannot bend breaks.”
Far below, a new fleet came into view. Massive sails, gold trim catching the last silver flicker of lightning. They bore no nation’s flag, no Brethren code. Only a single mark.
A crow in flight.
Eduardo’s breath caught. “While I debated and called councils, you were building this.”
“I built an empire,” Roderigo said, quiet pride and warning entwined in his words. “While you clung to ideals, I bought loyalty.”
Eduardo looked away, eyes on the shifting, restless sea. “Then you’ll rule alone.”
Roderigo nodded. “Alone is safest.”
Eduardo pressed a broken bottle neck into Roderigo’s palm—Eduardo's piece of eight.
“I won’t need this anymore.” Roderigo’s fingers closed around the token. “I never needed a relic.”
“You’ll keep it anyway,” Eduardo let a weary smile slip. “You always wanted it.”
Rain blurred the space between them, the storm thickening as Eduardo turned away. He walked into the downpour, shoulders hunched, each step carrying him farther from the cliff and the world he’d known. His figure faded, swallowed by rain and distance.
Roderigo remained at the edge, gaze fixed on the fleet gathering below—sails gleaming with the promise of power. A smirk ghosted across his lips, sharp and triumphant, as thunder rolled over the cove.