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High upon a throne, in a castle that sat on a hill was a king, who's crown had grown heavy. The last of his line and all that remained of the cursed bloodline of Bonnet. A kingdom would fall by nights end.
He had done everything that the old crone had asked of him. He had made an epic journey to the Elvin stronghold, to bring back the heart of a slain warrior. He had gathered the poisoned roses that grew sharp torns across the deadlands. He had completed the ritual and then nothing.
He had failed as his father had said he would. His father had warned him, told him he would be the ruin of his own people. Claimed with conviction, that Stede Bonnet, king or not, was weak. That he did not have the spine to save his people when it mattered most, when that meant the one he loved would be the price of peace.
He could no longer kneel before the threat that came from the sea, that came for his crown and the secrets it kept. That's why the beast was coming, wasn't it. The ritual may have failed but the mirror, the root of the curse was still safely hidden, away from the tentacles of the beast that would bring him ruin.
Rising from his throne, King Stede, the last of his line, threw open the wooden doors and stood upon a balcony, that overlooked the sea. Brandishing his sword, Stede held the blade towards the roaring waves and shouted.
"Edward! I have chosen to fight!"