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Summer, in Stede’s opinion, was the most pleasurable time of the year. There were many reasons supporting this thesis: the days were long and he could spend them outside with a book, the weather was simply wonderful, the flora and fauna was blooming with life, and there was no school – which also meant: no school ‘colleagues’.
And it was his birthday. Not that it was celebrated warmly: he was given gifts from his parents, of course, but he could feel the ever present disappointment that another year has passed and Stede still wasn’t what his father had wanted him to be. That he was a child, not a man, like Badminton brothers or Mr. Darcy’s sons. That he was soft. It seemed like it was the greatest flaw in his father’s eyes – softness, naivety, his pliant nature and gentle spirit were the exact opposite of what he had desired in a son.
He tried. He tried so hard to be something else, to mould himself into a perfect child, if not a desirable one, then at least obedient one, non-confrontational, polite. But in the end, that also wasn’t what everyone wanted. He simply couldn’t bend the way they wanted him to.
Having said so, Stede realised that his position in the world was better than most people. It did make him privileged and he understood that, to some point. That’s why he wasn’t bitter that his parents weren’t exactly thrilled that it was his birthday today. No, Stede was perfectly content to take his brand new book his parents had gifted him this year (it was The Tempest, he hadn’t read that one yet, but Mr. Shakespeare was a well known friend of his, so he was excited to read it), a small basket that cook gave him (she winked and told him that she made a cake for him to which he thanked her with a shy smile on his face) and a soft blanket to make a little birthday picnic, all by himself. He recently found a place between meadow and the river, and it didn’t look like it was a frequently visited place. Stede could pick up some nice flowers on his way there and nobody would tease him for that. He was perfectly content to be on his own today.
Except… expect the company found him anyway.
In the middle of the meadow sat a boy. Stede didn’t let his disappointment show – after all, he couldn’t prohibit anyone from sitting outside. There was a lot of space for them to share, they didn’t even need to interact with each other.
As soon as the thought formulated in his mind, the boy turned to him. The vary look in his eyes was assessing, he was being assessed – for some reason Stede felt judged, but not for his clothes or flowers in his basket, but for his spirit. He wore clothes so different from his own – simpler, plainer and frankly speaking, they looked more comfortable for the summer heat wave. He had white shirt that complimented his dark hair nicely.
“Hello!” Stede said, because after all, politeness couldn’t hurt anyone and since the boy acknowledged his presence, he couldn’t just sit over there in silence and ignore him, could he? “I don’t want to bother you, but–”
“Yeah, no, I’m going to go, don’t worry.” The boy interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. That’s not what he had in mind! He rushed to fix this misunderstanding.
“Oh, you don’t need to go on my account! I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind that I put my blanket over there, that’s all.” Stede hoped that he was looking earnest, not pathetic. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but he knew he was too eager, too clingy, too… just too much sometimes.
The boy looked at him strangely. After a long silence, he said one word:
“Why?”
“Well, you got there first, right? It wouldn’t be very nice to chase you off – it’s a nice day, and there’s plenty of space here, don’t you think?”
The boy seemed to be confused, but it didn’t discourage Stede, so he rambled on.
“We could even share, if you’d like! I have my lunch packed, so we could just sit here for a while. But you don’t have to, if you want to be alone, I understand, I also came here to be alone, so feel free to decline–”
“You’re talking too much.” The boy interrupted him again, but he wasn’t harsh with his words. He observed him the way a scientist could observe an unknown species. It wasn’t half that bad, at least he didn’t name-called him anything.
“Oh. Sorry.” Always repeating the same mistakes, wasn’t he? He just couldn’t stop himself.
“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Stede looked at him, and the boy looked like he was battling with himself, but he straightened up when he said: “Yeah, I don’t mind, we can sit together if you want.”
Stede smiled in return.
“Splendid!”
And that was it.
They sat together all day, sharing food and various stories. It was so easy to talk to him – no one ever was listening to him like he did. And he wasn’t even teasing him about the flowers! On the contrary, he asked if he could make something with orange blossom, stock flowers and phloxes Stede had picked on his way to the river. He obviously didn’t mind, he’d probably just make a small bouquet for the cook to thank her for the exquisite cake she had made. His mother didn’t really care about the flowers if she didn’t need to show something off to the other ladies that visited them sometimes with their husbands. He didn’t interact with these families much, their children usually played together, ignoring him at best, bullying him at worst. But Mrs. Smith seemed to like these little gestures of kindness – or at least she didn’t throw it away ostensibly.
The boy’s hands worked fast and swiftly. He made a circle with the orange blossom branch and then started to weave other flowers – he also added some dandelions, daisies and forget-me-nots that grew all around them on the meadow. The effects of his work were spectacular: the flower crown he made was so beautiful he could cry.
And then he did something Stede didn’t expect. He put it on Stede’s head. He looked really proud of himself – his dark eyes shimmered with something unexplainable.
“You look pretty.” He said, but not elaborated on that. Stede wasn’t sure how to interpret it.
“Oh. Is that… is that a good thing?” He asked in a quiet voice, because the boy was really nice to him so far, but he was also aware that nothing good lasts forever. All things were bound to end, sooner or later.
The boy answered him, equally quietly: “Yeah. It is.”
He seemed to be sincere. Stede beamed and handed him the last orange in the basket as a silent ‘thank you’.
They parted not long after that. The boy walked away into a nearby forest and Stede walked the path to his home, happier than he had ever been.
But he was also so foolish in his happiness. He forgot that the beautiful flower crown was still on his head when he walked into the mansion. It wouldn’t be half that bad if came home through the kitchen – the cook would probably take it away for him. Unfortunately, the first person he bumped into was his father.
His father who looked at him and didn’t even bother to hide the disgust in his eyes. Stede wasn’t sure what hurt more – the revulsion on his face, vile “you repel me” snarled just before he struck him in the face with the back of his hand. The force of the movement sent the flower crown to the floor and Stede watched his father purposefully stepping on the flowers before he walked away.
Stede cried himself to sleep that night, still tasting blood in his mouth, but he finally learnt the lesson – flowers weren’t something that men could enjoy. The fact that he liked flowers more than people was disgusting. It was the reason why his father was disappointed in him, why the other boys bullied him so relentlessly – they must think him so stupid, idiotic really (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy), that it took him so long to understand what they had known from the beginning of their lives.
His cheek throbbed in pain, but Stede finally fell asleep. He tried to forget everything that happened that day and he did – he never remembered that he forgot to ask the boy’s name.
It didn’t matter anyway. What did matter was that flowers were stupid and men didn’t enjoy them, and he tried to be an obedient, non-confrontational son, so he made sure that this lesson stayed with him.
Over the years Stede’s love for flowers didn’t exactly fade away, but he made a conscious effort to ignore it every time it tried to flare back. He went through a couple of phases, when he tired to start a flower garden in his own home – he was a master of the house now, but it didn’t feel like it, not when Mary’s silence was quiet and judgemental, and he surrendered to her opinion every single time because of it – or when he ordered a couple of vests and jackets with the floral prints, but it didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t exactly favourable.
Or it wouldn’t be if he didn’t find the loophole.
If something was expensive – the more ridiculously the better – if it was the sign of wealth, of status or even of the craft of the highest sorts then the nature of the thing became subservient to the sheer value of it. He could wear a floral perfume if it was from the best Parisian parfumerie, he could use lavender soap if it was brought from an exquisite and famous place, and he could wear vests with delicate asphodel flowers or yellow carnations, because it was a sign of someone’s mastery in the fine art and he could redirect the conversation on the tailors and seamstresses.
Stede was aware that it still made him quite foolish in the eyes of society, but it was foolishness that came from thoughtless money spending rather than the weakness of his character. He could accept that – with a little bit of passive-aggression he could even jibe them back.
Mary, of course, didn’t share his point of view, but she hardly voiced her opinion on how Stede was spending his wealth. She never said anything, but her cold stares hurt just as much as his father’s comments did. He knew she thought him stupid and absurd; he knew she wanted something entirely different from a husband. Their lives might be comfortable, but they weren’t bringing each other comfort and it was something both of them needed to soothe the discomfort felt in the married state of theirs. That’s why their coping mechanisms were so different – Stede purchased things both to fill the space and to be seen for who he was (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy), and her art was just a way to let herself be heard.
He couldn’t even blame her for her desires or for her frustration. She said it as much – they wouldn’t choose each other if they could. She’d never want him and he understood that.
He wouldn’t want himself either.
Then one Edward Teach entered his life with the force of a cannon ball and relentlessness of an anchor stuck to the bottom of an ocean.
He showed him joy beyond anything he had ever known. He showed him what the spirit of a true adventure meant. He showed him what love is, in its various shapes and colours.
He also showed him mercy and forgiveness for what seemed to be the biggest mistake of his life.
Stede didn’t deserve Ed. Ed begged to differ, but it didn’t change the fact that Stede had his own opinion on this matter.
Stede tried to show Ed that he understood his faults, he was trying to make up for them, to fix what he broke that night; sometimes it must have felt like he was trying too hard, given Ed’s strange looks, but it didn’t matter. What had mattered to him was showing Ed that he was the most important person in his life and he’d rather die before hurting him again.
He might underestimate Ed’s perceptivity, because he whispered into his hair, when they cuddled on the deck, watching stars, that everything was fine between them.
“Oh. Oh, that’s good to hear, but I don’t mind if it’s not, you know? I know that these things take time and besides, I’m used to this, so…” He shrugged. “It’s alright, I know what to do.”
He couldn’t see Ed’s face, but he was aware that something he said caused a tension in his muscles – a kind that wasn’t exactly preferable to any of them.
“What do you mean?” He inquired.
“Hm?”
“What do you mean by saying you’re used to this? I don’t understand?”
Stede really didn’t want to talk about this, but Ed deserved at least a tiny bit of honesty.
“Learning from my mistakes. I know, it always takes me a lot of time to understand things and I’m terribly sorry for this, love. I’ll try harder in the future for you, I promise you that.”
Ed hummed noncommittally. He gripped his hands and began to rub soothing circles with his thumbs – Stede didn’t even realise that he also tensed in Ed’s arms.
“I think you’re trying plenty already, you don’t need to try harder. I said it’s fine. I forgave you.”
“Oh, you’re too kind for me, darling. Thank you for being so patient with me. I want to be the best person for you, you deserve nothing less.”
Stede did it once – he still felt the heavy weight of the family ring on his cheek when he caught himself looking at pretty flower bouquets too long – and he could do it again.
“You don’t need to be the best person. I just want Stede.”
Except, Stede thought, Stede is never enough for anybody.
He didn’t voice that comment; he just let his head roll on Ed’s shoulder and asked him if that constellation was a Cassiopeia.
Sometimes he felt like the vain queen from Greek myths whose arrogance led to the untimely downfall. He certainly suffered because of his vanity in the past (weak, spoiled, lily-livered rich, boy) – the possibility that he will continue to do so in the future was high.
He will never learn. Or he will learn too late.
So, Stede definitely underestimated Ed’s perceptivity, because he thought the discussion over his unfitting for a gentleman (even a gentleman-pirate) behaviour was over the night it happened, but Ed smelled the blood and wasn’t going to let it go.
“Why don’t you buy it, hm?” Stede jumped, hearing Ed’s voice over his left shoulder. He quickly put away the bunch of flowers he held in his hands – stupid, you will never learn – and smiled tensely. He hoped Ed wouldn’t notice that flowers had caught his eye (again), but he was so damn observant. “They would look nice in our room.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t going to buy them, I know it’s stupid, let’s go.” He tugged his arm to lead him somewhere more fitting for two men in their middle-ages, like a tavern or whatever. Ed, surprisingly, didn’t resist, but was looking at him strangely, even when he was buying the best brandy (it wasn’t that good, but pirates couldn’t always be choosers) that less than fine establishment had.
He knows. He knows. He knows.
Stede tried to ignore that small voice that had been plaguing him for forever – first it was similar to his father’s voice, in time it changed and now it was more like Badminton’s high pitch. He let the guilt go, but his own faults and insecurities stayed.
He was still thinking about that time (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy), walking alone to the dinghy they took – Ed claimed he needed to piss, so he should go ahead and just wait for him on the beach – and wondered how he could make Ed forget this little mishap of his.
But Ed was so damn observant.
He came back with the same flowers he’d been looking at this afternoon. Stede frowned.
“What’s that?”
Ed looked at him questioningly.
“What do you mean ‘what’s that’? Flowers, of course! You looked at them today, but you didn’t buy them, so I thought I’d do it for you. I still think they would look nice in our room. Here you go.” He pushed the flowers into his hands and then kissed him. Stede kissed him back, but he just didn’t understand.
“Oh. Um. Thank you?” He replied hesitantly, not knowing what he should do with the flowers. Was it a test? Or just a gift? Ed smiled brightly at him, and it didn’t feel malicious to him, but he still felt the sting on his cheek and blood in his mouth, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Come on, love, I want to eat some marmalade before bed.”
He clutched flowers the whole time it took them to board The Revenge. He decided that throwing a gift would be more harmful than failing any probable test – first would hurt Ed, second would hurt only him. The answer was more than obvious.
He’d rather die than hurt Ed again.
The flowers continued and Stede didn’t know how to react.
Ed was bumping him gently every time they saw flowers growing somewhere. He didn’t want to pick them up, not after what happened the last time he did that, but Ed just looked at him quietly and did it for him. He thanked every single time and smiled, but clutched them tightly until he could put them away in their room, hopefully quickly enough so the crew wouldn’t notice. He worked so hard to gain their respect, he didn’t want to lose it over something so stupid like flowers.
But they kept coming. And he kept receiving them, wondering if he should stop – but he never did. He couldn’t. It was a weakness (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy), he knew, but one he truly couldn’t resist.
And it made Ed happy too, Lord only knew why.
The last straw came out of nowhere, but in hindsight, he should’ve guessed it would come. In a way, he felt as if he was stuck in an impasse. Usually, it would be bad, but not catastrophical. He could manage impasses – he tried to do it not by running, but with a confrontation. It turned out that these days, Ed was a firm believer in doing the exact same thing.
But Ed these days was also softer and played the long game. Stede should know he would strive to improve.
He gave him a flower crown.
It was a simple one, made from dandelions – where the hell did he get so much dandelions in the middle of the fucking sea, he didn’t know – nothing as fancy as the one he wore that day, but it made his throat close up anyway.
Ed’s smile was blinding – soft and fleeting as it was on most days, he looked truly happy with a tiny wreath in his hands. He remembered young girls wearing those in summers, when grasses were full of dandelions and maidens were weaving them into their hair. He tried not to be envious of them, because flowers weren’t something to be enjoyed by men.
“Stede?”
He tried not to be envious, but he was, and it was so stupid, because he still remembered how it went last time, he still remembered the pain and humiliation, and the sheer disgust (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy) in his father’s eyes.
He swallowed, but couldn’t meet Ed’s eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing it again – disappointment, revulsion and disdain in the face of someone he loved.
His hands shook. He couldn’t remember returning to their room, but loud clanging of the glass let him focus. The glass was almost full – he drank it all at once anyway. It burned and he didn’t even like alcohol that much, but it burned and it felt good.
He poured himself another one when he realised that Ed wasn’t with him, which meant that he hurt him or he failed the test somehow, but he didn’t know what the test was and how could he learn from his mistakes (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy) if he didn’t understand the lesson!
“Love, you need to breathe, put that glass down,” Ed’s voice came to him through the fog in his brain. Sob was torn out of his throat and he didn’t know if he’s going to down the whisky against his better judgement (and Ed’s advice) or drop it entirely so he could watch how he ruined everything he touched. “Come on, let’s sit down, okay? Everything is fine. Can I hold you?”
Stede nodded and let himself follow his beloved. He could make it better. He could give him another chance.
But how long did he have before he’ll have enough of him? Enough of giving him chances?
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear,” He said, or rather sobbed, into Ed’s shoulder. “I’ll be better, I promise, I won’t touch them again, I won’t even look at them!”
“Shh, it’s alright, love. If anyone should be apologising, it should be me. I did something and it upset you. That wasn’t my intention,” Ed rubbed his back and let him cry as long as he needed. He smelled like he always did – sea salt, tobacco and lavender soap. “I wanted to do something nice for you and I know you like flowers.”
That sentence somehow made him cry harder, but it also made him spill everything he held inside him since that birthday.
“But I shouldn’t! I know I’m weak and soft and it’s not becoming for a man to like flowers. I tried, I tried so hard, I know it disgusted him, he told me over and over again, but I just couldn’t learn that lesson.”
“Oh, Stede. Who told you that?”
He sniffed once, twice, but answered quietly.
“My father. Everyone at school. Mary didn’t say anything, but I know what she must have thought. I know she wanted someone more masculine, someone strong to support her. I wasn’t any of those things. I was weak and I liked flowers and I needed to stop, so I did. Father told me I needed to grow up and be a man, so I did. I finally learnt the lesson.”
Ed hummed noncommittally, but he didn’t stop touching him, so it was a good sign, maybe?
“But you’re on your own now? You’re allowed to like whatever you want. If I’m allowed to like lavender soap and silk robes, then you’re allowed to like flower crowns and bouquets.” He stated after a moment of silence. Stede was afraid that the silence meant he finally saw what was always there (weak, spoiled, lily-livered, rich boy), but he just weighed his words instead.
“It’s not the same.” He whispered.
“Why not?” Ed whispered in return. It would feel so intimate, to be in his arms and whisper to each other, but right now, he just felt pathetic.
“Because the crew have already respected you. You could do anything you want, you were – and I think still are, but in a good way, you know – Blackbeard! I wanted to be a real pirate, but I’m afraid they’ll always see me as someone who plays one, because he was bored with his life.” He finally admitted, because he was so, so tired.
He always wanted to be who he was, but in the end, in one way or another, he still pretended. Still hid behind a mask, because he didn’t even know who he was anymore.
“They respect you now more than me, I think. You proved yourself to them. Would you berate Lucius for his preferences in art or Buttons for his cultural practices?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then why shouldn’t they grace you with the same thing?” Ed pulled back, but only to touch his face. He looked at him, oh, so fondly. The weight of his feelings was crushing, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. “You deserve it too, you know. You deserve to be safe and loved on your own ship.”
Stede nodded, but he wasn’t truly convinced. It was fine though. These things take time.
“I’m sorry that I ran away from your flower crown. It was lovely.” Stede said after a long moment of comforting silence, filled with gentle kisses and warm touches. He could feel Ed’s smile on his skin.
“Think nothing of it, love. I’ll make you another one on shore.”
Stede wasn’t exactly excited, but wasn’t also dreading the moment either. It was a good sign.
Ed, when put his mind to something, could not be stopped by any force on Earth. And Edward Teach decided that he’s going to show the whole world that flowers were, in fact, very becoming of a man.
He asked Stede to put flowers in his hair almost every day. When he was on shore, he always looked for flower-resembling trinkets or anything that could be put in his hair. Stede complied, because he couldn’t say no to Ed, and maybe because his attempts at bargaining were, well, entertaining. And it helped to build up his self-esteem in that (or any, really) regard.
The crew hadn’t said a word. Well, they did, but, but Swede only asked if Stede could teach him how to braid his hair like this (he did and Swede was trying to practice on a crew members, but only Mr. Buttons had hair long enough to try and wasn’t threatening bodily harm like Jim did), Lucius asked if the flower selection was unintentional (he murmured something about lavender and devotion under his breath, but Stede really didn’t want to delve into that) and Frenchie asked if they knew about any flowers that could protect people from evil spirits (they didn’t).
Stede loved his crew more than the words could ever express.
Ed also wore flowers in his beard sometimes, but only during raids. Stede was willing to admit it, but not out loud, that him maiming some French seamen with forget-me-nots in his beard was quite a beautiful sight. And also extremely hot, when he turned to him, with a provocative smile on his face – so tempting, seductive almost – and asked him with a husky voice:
“Was I manly enough for you, love? Should I add some sweet peas next time?”
Stede fell for it every time. Their sex life was amazing.
Of course it didn’t work every time. But Ed was nothing but stubborn and he brought him as many flowers as he could and said that he deserved them if he wanted them. Again and again and again, no matter how persistently he would refuse. He reminded him that he also deserved to be loved and cherished, to feel safe on his own ship, with his family.
With each repetition Stede believed him a little bit more. And after some time, he didn’t even notice when Ed put a small branch of orange blossom mixed with stock flowers into his pocket. Ed kissed him and Stede kissed him back, saying:
“Thank you, darling. They’re lovely.”
And he meant every word.