Work Text:
Frenchie strummed his way into the Captain’s quarters.
“Hey Blackbeard, so I was thinking-”
The Kraken’s head snapped up, eyes flashing.
Frenchie raised his mandolin-free hand in surrender. “Shit, sorry, you’re still-”
“The Kraken.”
“Gotcha. Just the whole Blackbeard, Co-Captain, Ed, Kraken thing, it’s all been happening so quick.”
The Kraken growled.
“But you’re right, we did make that flag together the other day and that was definitely more of a Kraken activity.”
“The Kraken does not make. The Kraken destroys.”
“Right, totally.”
“The Kraken does not forgive. Or forget.”
“All good points, I’ll see myself out, shall I?”
The door closed before the Kraken could make him pay for his mistake.
*
Frenchie noodled on his mandolin while Jim looked at him like he was insane.
“You’re insane,” Jim said.
“See, people think that about me sometimes but actually? I’m a tactical genius.”
“Try going up an octave there.”
Frenchie played his riff again. “Aw, yes babe, that sounds great.”
Jim scowled.
“Friend babe,” Frenchie clarified. “Everyone’s a babe to me.”
Before Jim could protest, footsteps stomped overheard.
“ENOUGH OF THAT RACKET OR I’LL HANG YOU BY THOSE FUCKING STRINGS!”
Frenchie put down his instrument. “Alright, jeez. That bloke’s a menace.”
“So Hands isn’t a babe?”
“Not even close to being one. It’s cause he’s so short, his anger’s got nowhere to go, it gets stuck in all his bends and things.”
Jim sighed. “What were you saying about being a tactical genius?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just that I’ve figured out how to sort this whole thing between Captain and-” Frenchie frowned. “Other Captain. Lacy Captain and Leather Captain.”
Jim looked queasy. “You’ve figured it out? You’ve figured out how to bring Blackbeard back from the brink of madness?”
Frenchie polished the mandolin with his sleeve as he nodded.
“You know they tried to stab each other last week when Bonnet tracked us down?” Jim said. “And Blackbeard’s response to Bonnet's apology was to fire the cannons and break their mast?”
“I can’t help it if I’ve cracked it Jim, I’m just good like that.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
Frenchie thought about patting Jim on the shoulder. He settled for patting the air about a foot to the left.
“Wait and see,” he smirked. “I’m about to put on a masterclass.”
*
The Kraken threw open the doors to his quarters. “Who dares awake the Kraken?”
Frenchie looked up from his spot on the floor. “Oh, sorry, I think that’s me. Could you hear that?”
The Kraken scowled so hard his eyes were lost in the kohl. “Be gone from this place before the Kraken puts an end to you.”
“See that’s the thing. I was playing on deck but First Mate Hands told me to shut up, so then I went below deck and Jim told me to shut up as well, so now I’m just wandering around while I finish this sad song of mine.”
The Kraken faltered. “What?”
“What to which bit?”
“You’re writing a sad song?”
“Not just any old sad song, the saddest song I’ve ever written.” Frenchie plucked a melancholy ditty. “Might be the saddest song anyone’s ever written.”
The Kraken listened, tight lipped. Frenchie flicked him a look as he played it again.
“Yeah, it’s pretty sad,” the Kraken mumbled.
“Cheers. Anyway, I don’t want to bother you with my silly nonsense. It’s just about this messy break up I had, not really a Kraken thing is it? I’ll hit you up when I’m writing one about firing a gun full of knives.”
Frenchie made to leave but a leather clad hand gripped his bicep.
“Yes, Mr The Kraken?” he said cheerily.
The Kraken’s eyes were trained on the mandolin. “Just how messy was this break up?”
*
“Oh my god,” Lucius groaned into his cupped hands.
“What?” Frenchie gave up strumming his mandolin. There wasn’t room to swing a cat in the titchy secret passage (which was a relief, obviously).
“You’re gonna get us killed! I have not lived this long in a cupboard eating crusts for you to get us all killed.”
“What’s with you and Jim not trusting me? I’ve got this!”
“I’ve eaten the crusts of things I didn’t know could have crusts,” Lucius hissed.
“Don’t like that babe. What’s a good rhyme for apologise?”
Lucius screwed up his face in thought. “There isn’t one.”
“You sure? It’d be good if there was.”
“No, there isn’t, it’s like orange.”
Frenchie frowned. “What? Orange is easy, rhymes with sporange.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”
“What you and Jim are missing is that I’m great at relationships.”
Lucius levelled a look at him. “Since when?”
“Since always.”
“Have I ever known you in a relationship?”
“Nah but that’s for the good of the ship, for the good of every ship I set foot on. I just turn it off.”
“Turn what off?”
“How irresistable I am,” Frenchie said.
“So, what, this is you at-”
“I’m operating at like twenty percent charm and talent, yeah.”
“Wow.”
Frenchie nodded. “I know, it’s hard being me. But you’re sure there’s nothing rhymes with apologise?”
“Pretty sure.”
“What about snog?”
*
“I didn’t think this could get any sadder but we did it fella,” Frenchie said when the Kraken’s sniffles had died down.
“You think?”
“No think about it, I know. But are you ready-” Frenchie pulled a pained face.
“Ready for what?”
“It’s not the right time.”
“Why isn’t it? I’m ready! I’m Blackbeard!”
“Thought you was the Kraken?”
Whoever It Was gave it some thought. “I guess I’m still the Kraken.”
“Sure. Thing is, the bridge, the bridge is the saddest part of all.”
The Kraken clutched their chest. “You never said anything about a bridge.”
“That’s cause it’s gotten me in trouble in the past.”
“Sing it.”
“Sing it?” Frenchie scoffed. “I can’t just go singing it, you’d never be the same again!”
The Kraken looked conflicted at the prospect.
“There’s men in Bristol still weeping about it now, I can’t do that to you,” Frenchie said.
“Tell me about it then.”
“You’re really twisting my arm here, Krak. Can I call you Krak?”
“Prefer it if you didn’t.”
“What should I call you then?”
“The… Ed.”
“The Ed?” Frenchie said. “I mean whatever works for you mate, but-”
Whoever It Was scrubbed their hands over their face. “I don’t know man.”
Frenchie dared to give him a consoling shoulder squeeze. “Chin up babe, songwriting can do that to you.”
“Just call me Ed and tell me how the bridge goes, please.”
“Alright, so it’s about the same star-crossed lovers the rest of it’s about but the bridge really gets into it.”
“Into what?”
“All the stuff going on with them. Like how they keep missing each other but-”
“But?” Ed said, lip wibbling.
“But they know the love is there, yeah? The timing isn’t right and sometimes one of them gets fake killed by a piano but deep down, they both know love's still there.”
Ed gasped. “Hang on: Stede got fake killed by a piano.”
“Mate, that’s such a weird coincidence. See, I can handle singing the bridge because I’ve known heartbreak, been there, bought the tunic.” He made a careful study of Ed. “Maybe you’ll get it too, if there’s all those freaky parallels with your thing with Captain.”
“I will!”
“Maybe you’ll get all the tragic misunderstandings and bitter regret, plus the shit about jungle cats.”
“I will, I know about all of that!”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Frenchie got ready to play the first chord. “Feel free to harmonise through your tears.”
*
“Oi, Welshie.”
Hands stopped Frenchie in his tracks with a raised… hand. The gloveless one.
Frenchie gave it a look. “Is it missing?”
“What?”
“It’s just, you’ve only got the one. I can have a scout around if you think you’ve left it nearby.”
“Shut the fuck up and get over here.”
Frenchie ambled over to Hands’ secluded spot behind some barrels. “Can’t see it here.”
“I’m not looking for a fucking glove, I only fucking wear one!”
“Why?”
Hands fumbled over an explanation before settling on “Shut it!”
Frenchie clamped his mouth shut.
“Tell me what you know,” Hands hissed.
Frenchie kept shutting it.
“Well? Are you daft or what?”
“Sorry, I’m getting really mixed messages, do you want me to shut it or-”
“Shut it about gloves and tell me what’s going on with Blackbeard.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Frenchie said. “I mean, respectfully and everything but I thought that was sort of your thing. You seem really into it so I don’t want to go treading on any toes.” He glanced down. “Least you’ve got the two boots, eh?”
Hands backhanded him.
Frenchie saw it coming and let his head snap to the side. “Yeah, I probably deserved that one.”
Hands grabbed his shirt front. “He’s humming.”
“Alright?”
“And singing.”
“Is that some kind of boat crime? Because I’m in big trouble if it is.”
Hands kept on scowling. It was a wonder his face didn’t get stuck, especially with all the being short he had to deal with on top of that.
“Blackbeard doesn’t hum,” Hands spat out. “Or sing. Or anything like that.”
“So, what, you think someone has his ear? Someone’s pulling his strings like a puppet?”
Hands looked ready to agree.
“I don’t know mate,” Frenchie said. “If you’re asking me, I think the only person powerful enough to control someone as badarse as the Kraken-”
“Blackbeard,” Hands corrected.
“Thought he was going by the Kraken nowadays?”
“It’ll pass,” Hands said, looking faintly embarrassed.
“The only person powerful enough to control someone as badarse as Blackbeard would be-”
Hands leaned closer. “Yes?”
“Some kind of malevolent spirit. Ghoul, maybe. Too powerful to be a ghost.”
Hands stormed off, leaving a trail of swearing in his wake. Once he was out of sight, Frenchie made his way to Ed’s quarters, whistling.
*
“You just get me, man,” Ed said as he dabbed his eyes with the corner of Captain’s old robe.
“Aw, mate, I can’t fail to! You meet another tormented lyrical genius and everything just clicks!”
“You’re so right.”
They played the ballad through again, Frenchie really giving the final solo everything. Ed wound up his usual blubbering wreck.
“Beautiful,” Frenchie declared. “Perfect. You know, this song is obviously the greatest tragedy man has ever crafted but I think there’s something sadder still.”
Ed pulled the robe closer. “Sadder than this?”
“Definitely.”
“What could be sadder?”
Frenchie gestured to the empty quarters. “No audience.”
“Shit, you’re right.”
“Now, where could we find one of those…”
“Iz would never understand.”
“No way. Jim wouldn’t either, or Lucius.”
“What?”
“I mean who could we play for?” Frenchie said in a rush. “Who else would understand the torment and tragedy of a messy break up ballad like us two fellas, eh?”
Ed's bottom lip stopped quivering as he steeled himself.
“I can think of a guy.”
*
“Ed.” Stede stepped aboard the Revenge, sword cautiously drawn. “Ed, I know we’ve had some miscommunication, but if you would only-”
Ed hushed him as Frenchie played their opening chords. Stede looked between them, baffled.
“Just listen to the lyrics,” Ed urged. “You’ll get it, trust me, this is gonna resonate so hard with you.”
Frenchie nodded as he belted out the chorus. The Captains came together like magnets, then Leather Captain gave up singing in favour of getting snogged silly by Lacy Captain.
“What the fuck is happening?” Izzy howled.
Frenchie didn’t let that detract from his solo.
*
“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Olu said, sat flush beside Jim as the crew ate lunch. “You pretended to forget that Ed had lost his mind and then you just used that as an opportunity to strike up a friendship with him over songwriting, which convinced him to forgive Captain and that’s why we’re all together again?”
Frenchie ran that back in his mind. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Mate, that’s insane.”
“I think the word you’re after is tactical genius."
“Yeah, that’s just the power of ballads,” Wee John said.
"Now if you’ll excuse me," Frenchie said. "Lacy Captain said Swede and I could use the ball room as a recording studio.”