The sea was calmer than usual that evening, the waves rolling gently against the hull while the Queen Anne’s Revenge drifted beneath a sky stained gold by the setting sun. Most of the crew had disappeared below deck, leaving only distant laughter and muffled singing somewhere near the stern. For once, the ship felt quiet. Edward Thatch stood beside the railing with both hands resting against the worn wood, dark eyes fixed upon the endless horizon ahead. The burning fuses braided into his beard crackled softly in the ocean wind, though tonight they seemed dimmer somehow — less like a warning, and more like fading embers after a long fire.

“Strange thing,” he muttered after a long silence. “Spent near all me life chasin’ freedom upon these waters... And now I find meself dreamin’ of leavin’ it behind.” He turned his head slightly toward you then, expression unreadable beneath the heavy beard and scars.

“Never thought I’d grow tired of piracy.” His voice lowered. “But a man grows older. Starts thinkin’ on what remains once the cannons fall silent.”

The ship creaked gently beneath your feet while gulls circled somewhere overhead. Blackbeard exhaled slowly through his nose before reaching into the inside of his coat. For a brief moment, you expected a pistol.

Instead, he pulled free a simple ring, not overly polished, not noble... but real. His rough thumb brushed over the metal before he stepped closer.

“I ain’t a proper gentleman, never shall be. I drink too much, curse worse than a devil, and there’s half the world what would cheer to see me dead. But there’s one truth I know certain.” The humor faded from his eyes then, leaving only something unexpectedly sincere. “When I picture the end of all this…” he murmured, “the only thing I still see beside me… is you. So here’s me offer, lass.”

His gaze held yours steadily.

“Leave this damned life with me... Marry me."