we’re pirates, what did you expect?
after watching 6x16 and the pirate brotp that is Hook and Blackbeard, an idea popped into my head for the Blackbeard origin story that nobody asked for, ft. our favourite one-handed villain - so here it is! set mid-Hook’s time in Neverland, with some spoilers for 6x16. Words: ~3900 Rating: T AO3
The entire shore seemed to tremble whenever Captain Hook came in to port.
Taverns emptied, dock workers found excuses to scurry home, inns slammed their shutters closed and merchants cowered behind their stalls, each praying the dread pirate would find no excuse to provide them custom. For a usually bustling harbour for commerce, it was nothing short of paranormal, the way silence itself would soothe even the squalliest of waters as the Jolly Roger glided into the bay. The fastest ship in all the realms, that was the word on everybody’s lips. So fast, in fact, it was said to exist outside the constraints of time itself, impossibly traversing the waters of the Enchanted Forest for centuries.
Some said the vessel had been forged in darkness — that her Captain had traded his soul in order to win her, that she protected her crew with slews of evil spells and enchantments. Some said she had been liberated from the royal navy; a navy that none knew of, for a kingdom that had long since been lost to history. Others even claimed the seas that kissed her bow were that of an obsidian realm, dark and obscene, were time stood still and a sorcerer bade the pirate and his crew to submit to his bidding, obtaining wicked curses and committing nefarious deeds at his behest.
All were unanimous on only a few fronts: dark magic followed the Jolly Roger wherever it set sail, and accounts of the captain’s villainy extended far beyond the reach of living memory. Captain Hook championed time, sailed under the crimson flag and gave his enemies no quarter.
And he had come to port today.
Children were ushered indoors, even as they strained against their parents in order to catch a glimpse of the legendary vessel as it berthed, the distant barks of her captain drifting on the breeze that whistled through the harbour.
Edward, who had no such parents to restrain him, could only scamper closer.
A boy of little more than ten, his smaller frame darted around sailors and merchants alike, the scuffed leather of the shoes gifted to him by Old Emrys marking his pace with loud thuds across the wooden deck. Used to the boy’s presence, most merely let out irritated grouses if his sharp movements unsteadied the cargo in their arms, but Edward couldn’t bring himself to care as he sprinted across the mariner towards the Jolly Roger.
He just wanted to see, that was all. A glimpse.
Yet the closer he drew, the slower he found himself moving, until only a single, long jetty lay between him and the ship. Edward slowed to a stop, watching from a distance as crew members began to disembark with peculiarly shaped crates. His hand lingered on the railing, his heart thudding as he stared at the swaying off the mast — fear had stayed his movements, certainly, every story every told in their modest port about the exploits of Captain Hook surging to the forefront of his mind. And like any child, he bore a morbid desire to lay eyes on such a man; he just couldn’t quite make himself approach.
As his little fingers finally let go of the tether to shore, he bolstered his courage and stepped out onto the jetty. He was rewarded with a sight that almost sent him darting backwards, as a man jumped on to the Jolly Roger’s gunwale, one hand gripped on the rigging and dark eyes surveying the work being done below him. All clad in black, even from a distance Edward could see he was of a powerful build, shoulders drawn back, but it was his other hand that he eagerly wanted to see, and he caught just a flash of steel —
Before he was suddenly hauled backwards and dragged onto the quay.
“And where do you think you’re going, wretch?”
Old Emrys peered down at him with his one good eye, throbbing and ugly with bloodshot lines like lightning around the iris.
Edward struggled momentarily to form a sentence. “I was — I was just —”
“Hoping to catch a glimpse of old Captain Hook, were you?” The man spat with laughter, a cruel sound, and a few sailors lingering nearby joined him. An angry flush worked itself into Edward’s cheeks, but he kept his eyes averted. “Perhaps you were hoping to sneak on board the Jolly Roger, take your chances with witchcraft over Old Emrys?”
“No!”
“Honestly, I give you room and board when I could’ve left you in that sinking skiff, and this is how you repay me?” He lunged forward and tangled his fist in the boy’s collar, jerking him upwards when he whimpered. “All I ask is you give me an honest day’s work, and you can’t even do that.”
Edward’s mouth opened, trying desperately to give voice to every protest he’d let lie there for years — that it had been scarcely a rescue when his parents, stranded in the water on the outside of that skiff, had been deemed useless and left to the mercy of the ocean; that he spun yarn into rope until his fingers bled; that he was deathly afraid of heights yet he climbed everyday up to the lookout point when he was told, in the hope that one day Old Emrys would keep his promise and secure him a place on a ship as a cabin boy, and get him out of the bay.
That with every sloop that swept from the harbour, it took a little piece of him with it. His heart had been won by the sea long ago, and at little older than ten he didn’t yet know how to win it back.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “Please, let me go.”
Old Emrys released him, but before he could scurry away a heavy hand landed on his shoulder again.
“I tell you what,” Old Emrys started, kneeling beside him and motioning for the attention of a few nearby dock workers. “You’re a light-footed lad, aren’t you Edward?” The boy blinked, but Old Emrys didn’t wait for him to confirm it. “They say Captain Hook marks his doubloons with his crest, and they fetch a fair price if you know where to sell them.”
Edward swallowed.
“Climb aboard the Jolly Roger, if that’s what you want. Steal me three of the captain’s doubloons and I’ll set you free. Get you on the next ship out.”
The air rushed out of his lungs in a whoosh.
Free?
The other men laughed, that doubtful, dismissive noise, and it only strengthened Edward’s resolve. He thought of the power of the sea beneath him, the wind at his back — his own ship, like he’d only ever dreamt of before.
With a final defiant look at Old Emrys’ smirking, grisly eye, the boy tore from his grip and charged down the jetty, the howls of the dock workers biting at his heels.
Purpose spurring him onwards, Edward attempted to shake off the fear that had paralysed him before. The closer he drew to the ship the busier the docks became, members of the crew lumbering back and forth with cargo to sell and supplies to store. The man on the gunwale had disappeared, and Edward tried to see how best he could climb aboard. He was no stranger to stealing his way onto a ship, he’d pilfered ship’s stores for Old Emrys before when the larger brigs moored in the warmer months, usually taking back the stock the old man had just sold.
Usually he snuck past depending on how attentive the crew, or jumped into the harbour and literally clambered the hull, depending on how close the gun ports were to the water line. No such option appeared immediately available, the entire crew prickled with magic, and it wasn’t just the thought of a life free of the port and Old Emrys that made gooseflesh erupt on his skin. He didn’t imagine his regular tactics would work on the crew of the Jolly Roger.
Just then, Edward spotted a smaller crate amongst the larger ones the pirates were carrying aboard, and he sprinted for it.
At the snarl from the watching crew member, Edward flinched, but did his best not to cower away. “I — just want to help,” he said earnestly, lifting the crate as quickly as he could. Mercifully, the pirate let him carry on, perhaps doubting how a boy so young could do any harm. His smaller arms strained against the weight of the crate, trembling as he trudged up the gangplank, but he pushed through, following another of the crew and dropping it on deck with the others.
“Oi!” a voice roared, and Edward instinctively whirled around. “Careful with the captain’s merchandise!”
“S-sorry,” he said, licking his lips and his eyes wide, heart galloping in his chest at the idea of being discovered. He knew enough about ships to know where the valuables were kept, especially something like the captain’s own marked doubloons — his cabin.
Acting entirely on impulse, Edward stepped slowly back to the gangplank as if he were to return for more cargo, but at the last moment peeled away and stole down the steps to the crew’s quarters.
Beneath the deck silence loomed, oppressive and ominous, as the muffled shouts from above continued. There were no torches lit, almost every crew member above and tending to the carrying of trade, so Edward found his way largely unimpeded. Before then, he hadn’t exactly considered the possibility of success so seriously, but he could imagine it now — the look of astonishment in Old Emrys’ ugly eye as he presented the doubloons, the freedom he would win.
The knowledge that he had stolen them from under the hook of the most dreaded pirate in all the realms.
Edward flushed with pleasure at the thought.
The captain’s quarters were easily found, and the door astonishingly left unlocked. Undoubtedly, the captain didn’t expect any in his crew to ever commit such a theft, and it wasn’t as if the Jolly Roger was boarded often by those that weren’t invited. The door opened with a loud creak, and Edward quickly threw a glance behind him to check he hadn’t been followed, before he slipped inside.
Up until that point it had been about urgency, the speed of his infiltration and the adrenaline pumping through him, but for the first time he really paused to examine his surroundings. The full gravity of just where he had broken into had his young body practically humming with excitement. Not an hour ago he had been desperate to even catch a glimpse of the man whose reputation preceded him in almost every port across the Enchanted Forest, and now he was standing inside his quarters.
Shelves of books and trinkets lined the walls, a bunk in one corner with impeccably made linen sheets, and a desk lay in the middle of the room with its surface an array of maps, charts and some intricate and delicate instruments that Edward couldn’t identify. It was altogether more — mortal, perhaps, than he’d been imagining. Captain Hook was a spectre to him, a legend. To see something as normal as a bed was almost disconcerting.
Edward inched over to the desk, small hand reaching out to something gold which he belatedly recognised as a sextant. A beautiful image of a winged horse had been welded into the side, and he was just tracing the curve of its mane when the door suddenly clicked shut behind him.
“Well then,” Edward’s heart leapt into his throat as he whirled around, snatching his hand away. “What have we here?”
The figure stood leaning against the door, his face almost entirely shrouded in shadow, but the coat was unmistakable — this was the man standing on the gunwale. A hook, glinting silver and dangerous in the low light, was held in front of him, a ring adorned finger of his other hand gently tracing the curve of it.
Edward, petrified and rooted to the spot, found any defence he’d been about to utter crumbling into dust.
The man stepped forward, revealing his mouth quirked upwards in half a smirk, although his deep, tempestuous eyes spoke more of threat.
This man was Captain Hook.
Edward instinctively moved to back away, stumbling over the desk as he did so and fighting to regain his footing.
“An intruder, perhaps? A stowaway?” Hook continued to advance, his footsteps heavy and slow. “Dare I suggest it — a thief?”
Edward squeaked in response, jolting against the back of the cabin as he attempted to keep the desk between them.
“Do you have any idea what I do to thieves caught in the captain’s cabin, thief?”
His pulse was racing so loudly in his ears; he was sure the pirate must have been able to hear it.
“Because believe me, boy, I’ve done far worse to lads your age for less.”
“I—I had to!” Edward stuttered, forcing the words out. “Old—Old Emrys, he said if—if I stole three of your doubloons then he’d let me go free. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t — please —”
Hook arched an eyebrow. “Old Emrys,” he clicked his tongue, “the harbourmaster put you up to this?”
Grasping desperately at the chance to blame another, Edward nodded vigorously. Hook continued his advance, circling slowly around the desk.
“He’s been saying—he said he’d get me a post on a ship as a cabin boy,” he added, “if I got the doubloons. I w—want to get out of here, away from him.”
“How old are you, boy?”
Edward swallowed. “Ten.”
Hook surveyed him carefully, his stare even and penetrative as if he were being tried before the devil. Apparently, the pirate must have seen something in his fearful expression, because he broke out into a dangerous, magnetic grin. Edward’s heart stuttered at the intent behind it.
“The trouble is,” he started, the hook stretching slowly out towards the boy when he was within reaching distance. His breathing sped up rapidly as the cool steel made contact with his cheek. “I need to be able to trust the harbourmasters of the places I make port, as our business is… unusually sensitive.” The hook dragged slowly up into his hair, and Hook stared down at him darkly. “And this, well. This is deplorably bad form to say the least, sending a lad to complete a coward’s job.”
Finally, his head tilted to the side.
“Would you care to partake in a double-cross?”
Edward trembled. The word carried such weight; piracy, adventure. Everything he’d ever dreamed of.
With a swish of his long coat Hook abruptly turned from him, crossing the small space until he reached what appeared to be a chest of some kind, secured with a lock. Edward watched with wonder as Hook twisted his hook from the brace, and slid the attaching mechanism into the lock. As it opened, Hook held out his free hand to summon him over. Unsure if he was moving out of fear or fascination, the boy drew cautiously up beside him.
His eyes blew wide with surprise when he realised Hook was pressing three golden doubloons into his palm.
It was more money than he’d ever held in his life, and when he turned them over he could see a hook etched into the corner in jagged, violent strokes. These were the coins Old Emrys had wanted.
“Old Emrys,” Hook stared at him carefully, vivid blue eyes almost paranormal in the near dark, “your master,” he spat the word, “he has gold, I take it?”
Edward nodded.
“Take these doubloons to him, earn your freedom. If you return tomorrow with all three and a bag of gold, you may set sail with us.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “With — with you?”
“Aye,” Hook grinned, “with me. It’s what you desire, is it not? A life on the open sea?”
“More than anything,” the boy breathed.
“Well, the Jolly Roger is certainly short of a cabin boy or two.”
Edward could scarcely believe what he was hearing — Captain Hook, dread pirate and scourge of the realms, was offering him a place on his ship. His sparkling gaze spoke of wonder, adventures unseen, of fear. Adrenaline, heartache. The vivacity of a life being lived. The boy practically tripped over himself to agree, before thanking the captain and darting the door, doubloons clutched painfully tight in his palm.
“Boy,” Hook said, and it drew his attention before he could slip through. “We depart with the rise of the sun. Don’t be late.”
Edward beamed. He wouldn’t dare.
-/-
It had been worth it purely for the stunned silence the doubloons had incited in Old Emrys. The fury had come after, of course, but Edward had at least half a dozen witnesses to the deal they had struck — he was free. It would be his last night in the harbourmaster’s care, and he could scarcely sleep for the excitement of it all.
He would be traversing the realms on the Jolly Roger. The legend, the spectre that had towered over his childhood at port.
As Old Emrys drank himself into a thunderous stupor, Edward wisely kept out of his way. Stealing a bag of gold would be simple enough, and it was the old man’s fault that the boy had become so wily. It was the pirate in him, he decided. He liked the sound of that. The dread pirate Edward; for surely that was what he would be, once Captain Hook took him under his wing.
Old Emrys kept his gold in his mattress, only a stone’s throw away from the chest he usually caught thieves pilfering their way through — he was a sly old dog if nothing else, but Edward was better. Quieter. And he knew exactly where to look.
By morning he hadn’t slept a wink, and emerged into the dusty light of dawn. Being so near to the open seas, a chill wind always brushed through the harbour, but on that particular morning a thick fog had begun to shroud the town and in his short, excited skip to the docks, he had nearly fallen over no less than three times.
He leapt from the quay to the jetty, the wood protesting under the heavy thud of his shoes, weighed down only further by the small satchel with all his belongings, the bag of gold Hook had requested with his three doubloons inside.
With relief he realised the Jolly Roger was still berthed, but the gangplank had long since been raised and the crew were already beginning their early preparations to weigh anchor.
“Captain!” Edward called up into the mist, “Captain Hook!”
Through the haze, the figure of the familiar man appeared and he leapt up onto the gunwale as he had done the day before. Edward had to take a moment just to admire it — he was truly a magnificent man. And his ticket to freedom.
“Lad!” Hook exclaimed delightedly. “How wonderful. Do you have my doubloons?”
“Yes!” he said, eagerly holding up the bag. “With the gold!”
“Excellent.”
With his hook in the rigging to secure his balance, Hook held out his only a hand in a gesture to receive them. Edward hurled the bag up to him, and he caught it with a dextrous clink of the metal against his rings. The captain lifted it to his ear, shaking it a few times to try and confirm how much gold was in there.
“You’ve done well, boy. I thank you. Mr. Smee!” he hollered behind him, and one of the men Edward recognised from the day before stepped forward away from the preparations. Hook thrust the bag of gold into his chest. “How fairs the wind, Mr. Smee?”
“With us, but we’re not sure for how long. The tide too.”
“Then I believe it’s time to weigh anchor. Inform the crew.”
A chill that had little to do with the cold of the morning began to settle at the base of Edward’s spine.
“Captain?” he called uncertainly. Surely they needed to lower the gangplank in order for him to board, unless they expected him to climb.
Hook merely smirked and continued calling orders over his shoulder, his eyes never once leaving Edward. The boy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling unnervingly like the captain was watching for his reaction, and realised with dismay that the ship had begun to pull out of the harbour.
“Wait!” he burst. “You said I could come with you!”
Hook shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
Edward’s heart plummeted to somewhere below the jetty.
“But — you said — the gold!”
The boy’s mind began to race, desperate for something, anything to say that would call the ship back into its moor. When he looked back up he could see Hook’s playful expression, the lightness in his features he had seen in the cabin yesterday had vanished, something hard and awful taking its place. The captain turned on the gunwale, taking a few steps towards the stern so as to remain within talking distance of Edward.
“Regrettably, there is no room for nice little boys in the waters we sail,” Hook continued loudly, darkly, a shadow passing over his features. “Only the nasty ones survive.”
“But you — you promised!”
Would you care to partake in a double-cross?
The Jolly Roger began to fade into the mist, Hook watching him as parts of the ship faded away.
“We’re pirates,” Hook mocked from the fog, “what did you expect?”
In moments, only the biting breeze, the moist air and his empty palm were evidence the ship had docked at all.
-/-
Of course, Edward did one day captain his own ship, but not before he endured years back in the service of Old Emrys, coloured with violent taunts and barbaric reminders that he had been foolish to think he’d find his escape on a vessel like the Jolly Roger.
Not before his heart had turned cold, or before he’d murdered Old Emrys in cold blood and stolen a sloop to finally leave port. Not before he acquired a reputation for sailing mercilessly, taking no prisoners and betraying all who crossed his path. Not before the name Edward vanished into the stroke of the waves, as the boy became a man and became widely reputed as one of the most bloodthirsty pirates to ever sail the open waters of the Enchanted Forest.
As Captain Hook faded into legend.
For over thirty years, the boy never caught sight of him again.
Of course, when he’d passed an old, deserted port and found an aged ship, a legend moored there like a phantom, no perceivable crew to speak of, dragged there by some curse or another amid stories of heroism surrounding the man he had once feared and revered — of course he had claimed it. To walk the deck of the ship that had haunted his nightmares, that was a triumph unlike any other, however short-lived it had been. She would be his again.
For Captain Blackbeard championed the seas, sailed under the crimson flag and gave his enemies no quarter.
And nothing, in all his life, had been half as satisfying as leaving Hook marooned on the shores of Neverland at his hand.
“We’re pirates, what did you expect?”
The other pirate might not know it, he almost certainly wouldn’t remember something as insignificant as an abandoned boy on a jetty in his three centuries of life, but they were finally even.