#for the ill will that a considerable part of the crew starts to bear against him and command in general

[abrahamvanhelsings]

#i can and will die on the hill that ned little - the actual lt. little of the show - is as far removed from the sad wet doormat of a man#that fanon likes to portray him as; as humanly possible#the closest correlation between fanon!ned and actual canon!ned is his prolonged misery and level of worry-induced distress#he's more than competent - we see it time and again throughout the first half of the show#but the biggest indication of this is crozier himself handing little his pistol when he goes into self-imposed rehab#HE WOULDN'T DO THAT IF HE DIDN'T THINK EDWARD WAS CAPABLE OF HANDLING THE SITUATION.#crozier's not a man to mince words or spare feelings - if he thought little unequal to the task he would've handed his pistol to fitzjames#instead; but no. he chooses edward precisely bc he knows edward is loyal and steadfast and capable of doing what needs to be done

#edward is the one who falters in that scene; not bc he's too overwhelmed to cope but because he knows exactly what is at stake if#anything goes wrong during crozier's convalescence; the lives of a hundred+ men turning on a dime should crozier not survive his withdrawal#and he's not wrong to feel daunted by the task! it's an immense amount of responsibility -#one crozier himself bowed and buckled under the second leadership of the expedition was thrust upon him! it's a terrifying situation;#but edward still steps up and in the wake of francis's seclusion; for once; things actually go somewhat smoothly!#the men are faring better without the black cloud of crozier's alcoholism and negativity hanging over them like a shroud;#he's gotten fitzjames off his back for the most part; other than for carnivale. and even here we see edward's diligence and commitment#to his position as first lieutenant of the expedition bc he's the one questioning using vital supplies for a party! he's the one#who agrees that the men need the distraction; but worries if they can afford to foot the bill later;#when things will be more difficult! that is the kind of mindset francis himself displays at the beginning#of the show when he's questioning sir john's decision to press forward despite every sign imaginable telling them not to!#EDWARD WORRIES FOR THE MEN THE SAME WAY CROZIER DOES

#what trips him up; what ends up driving a wedge between him and crozier; what causes little to fuck up the armory situation; is this:#crozier himself. bc francis was a mean drunk. and while in his cups he treated little as no better than a ship's boy; running menial errand#and very literally risking life and limb to indulge the vices of a man who treats him with open contempt (and let's be clear; that man isn'#the captain edward has come to know and respect since they set out from greenhithe - no; that is a stranger wearing his captain's face;#making choices that leave edward feeling frustrated and helpless and enraged)#what crozier's belittling of little's station and rank does during this time is make him deeply insecure of his own purpose and competence;via @boogiewoogieweeb

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[turtlepated]

The Ghost and the She-Wolf

Part 4

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Brace yourselves, buckos. There’s drama ahead.

Zhuk, pirate or otherwise, belongs as ever to @monsterlovinghours

Tag list: @beetlejuicebeadoll, @insomni-snacc, @do-ya-hear-that-sound, @young-erstill, @dilfyjuice, @nikkivfx

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You sat on the filthy floor of your cell, leaning back against cold, rough iron, and you thought. You thought of your days in the academy, studying, drilling, pushing yourself to the brink and beyond just to achieve recognition. The nay-sayers and the doubters, those who had snickered on the sidelines just waiting for the chance to watch you fail, you had proven them wrong. You had fought hard for your place in the ranks, and your effort had been rewarded with your own ship and crew and purpose. And now…. all were gone. Despite your best efforts, you could not forget the words Zhuk had spoken to you in his cabin: “It was you who elected to change the tone of our relationship.” With a sigh you drew your legs to your chest, folding your arms over your knees to bury your face. All your work, the risk and the danger, the lives of your men, all just to end up here; imprisoned, defeated. Warmth and pressure were building behind your eyes but you refused to cry. You had to get ahold of yourself, find some way out of this. After your sneak attack, you’d figured that Zhuk would make an example of you; keel haul you, lash you to the mast to bake in the sun. But so far, nothing. You’d been stowed down here like cargo and forgotten. There was a bucket of freshwater, at least, but you’d seen more than one rat sate it’s thirst from the water inside. You’d had no food since your last meal aboard the Invictus, and your stomach pinched painfully to remind you. Remorsefully you thought of the spread at the captain’s table, wishing you’d partaken after all.  

You could tell that the ship was underway, just as Zhuk had said. Repairs had been completed and the Perperuna had been cruising steadily for at least two days since your ill-conceived assassination attempt, but you had seen not a soul since. Maybe they were heading to some remote sandbar to maroon you. For the first time in days you heard the sound of heavy booted feet on the stairs just beyond your barred door. You hurriedly stood, swaying unsteadily both from the constant motion of the ship and your own malnourishment. The bosun appeared at the bottom of the stairs, rounding the corner and fixing you with an unreadable expression. “Captain wants to see you,” he said shortly, withdrawing a ring of iron keys from his belt and striding over to the door. It creaked shrilly when he opened it and stepped back, offering you no assistance as you padded from the cell, reaching out for the wall to steady yourself as you made your way up the steep stairwell. 

The bright daylight blinded you after so long in the near total darkness below deck and tears welled at once as you raised a hand to shield your eyes, blinking against the discomfort. As your vision adjusted you took a deep lungful of salty air, a welcome reprieve from the dank scent of mildew at the bottom of the ship. The bosun came up behind you, uttered a gruff, “This way”, and led you toward the bow. Even at a distance you could recognize the imposing figure of Captain Zhuk, standing on the forecastle deck facing away from you. Somehow you managed to follow the bosun up the short set of steps without stumbling, coming to stand just behind the pirate commander. Zhuk stood with a spyglass raised to his eye, scanning the horizon. He turned to you but said nothing, his piercing eyes drifting up and down your person. You must look a sight, but he did not comment on the state of you. Instead he extended the spyglass. “Have a look, volchitsa.” Confused, you took it from him and stepped up to the rail, peering through the glass at you didn’t know what. “What am I looking for?” you asked. He pointed at the expanse of open sea beyond the bow. “Just look and tell me what you see,” he replied. Shooting him a mistrustful glance, you did as he asked nonetheless. 

You could make out the faint outline of a large landmass to the port side, and directly ahead were small black dots that looked to be islands. “Where are we?” you asked, more thinking out loud than seeking answer. Zhuk answered you anyway. “Heading for the Java Sea.” You hummed absently, getting your bearings. The Java Sea lay between Borneo and Sumatra. Several hundred miles lay between them except for one point, where a series of small islands narrowed the passage. You swept the spyglass slowly along the lateral line where sea met sky, at last discerning a shape of hard straight lines that stood out from the natural curves and crags of the silhouetted islands. You squinted, adjusting the focus to try and see clearer. “Is that… a ship?” you murmured. Zhuk hummed by way of answer. “So it would seem,” he said. “Perhaps your naval comrades have come to rescue you?” He chuckled, either at the thought or because the chance of a sea battle thrilled him. You frowned disapprovingly at his enthusiasm, but part of you was intrigued by this development: it could be your chance to get off this ship. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” you said, still examining the distant vessel through the spyglass. “It almost looks like it’s made of metal.” 

The peculiar metal ship did not move from its position just off one of the smaller islands in the strait, it appeared to be waiting for the Perperuna. As the distance between the two craft lessened, Zhuk called for the sails to be shortened and the anchor to be dropped, keeping a shrewd eye on the strange new arrival off the bow. It was close enough now that you could count the men bustling about on deck, and by the familiar uniforms they all wore you could see that Zhuk had supposed correctly. Standing by the helm was another figure you recognized and you groaned in preemptive exasperation when you made the connection. “Something the matter, volchitsa?” Zhuk asked, turning to tower over you. His tone of genuine concern caught you off guard for a moment, but you did not dwell on it. “There could be,” you replied. “It’s Renard, I’m sure of it.” A former pirate himself, captured by the navy who had made a deal that allowed him to continue operating as a privateer, Hénri Renard, as he now styled himself, was perhaps your least favorite and most unsavory colleague. His methods were every bit as brutal now as they were when he was still reaving and pillaging, only now he did it on behalf of the Navy. If he was here, the Royal Navy must be aware of the Invictus’s fate and they had dispatched him to respond with his usual ruthlessness. 

Zhuk swept the spyglass from your hands and held it to his own eye, confirming your assessment. Your head turned, watching him in silence as your mind churned. Renard famously gave no quarter, not as a pirate or a privateer. As much as you had hated him, as much as you had yearned to personally clap him in irons and delivered him to the Navy, the idea of Renard getting his hands on the pirate captain beside you was deeply unsettling. For all the trouble you had caused one another all this time, Zhuk had saved your life; you, his sworn enemy. He had treated you as, perhaps not as a guest, but far better than you would have treated him had your roles been reversed. You had repaid his gesture with vitriol and violence, and yet he had not punished you unduly for your behavior. “Let me talk to him,” you heard yourself saying aloud even as the plan was forming in your mind. “Run up a white flag, send me to him in the longboat. I can parley a truce, I’m sure releasing me would persuade him to at least give you a head start.” Zhuk lowered the spyglass and dipped his chin to look you full in the face, his expression as stoic as ever while his eyes burned into yours. It felt like he was examining your very soul and you felt heat in your face. Even though you were fully clothed, the way he was looking at you made you feel utterly exposed.

 After a painfully long moment of consideration, Zhuk smiled and nodded. “As you will, volchitsa.” He turned to call over his shoulder, “Bosun, prepare the longboat. Raise the white flag!” A short while later you were seated in the small boat, lowered down the side of the Perperuna and rowing your way towards the anchored metal ship. You found yourself in its shadow, your head tilting back as you gazed up the cold iron plating. Several crewmen stood at the side, watching your progress. “State your name and business!” one shouted down to you. You called back your name, your rank, and informed him that you were a prisoner of the Perperuna come to parley with Captain Renard. The sailor left to relay your message, leaving you floating in the longboat. Not much later a ladder and rope were lowered to you. You secured the longboat and ascended to the deck. You followed a crewman to the navigation room, where Renard himself was seated with a cup of tea. His brow rose and a broad grin lit his features when you entered the room. “Ah, Captain! Welcome aboard the Colossus!” he called by way of greeting. “Rumors of your horrific demise were unfounded, I see!” You forced yourself to smile back, seating yourself in the chair opposite him. “I wish I could say the same for my ship,” you admitted. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Renard hummed into his teacup, setting it back in the saucer on an end table next to him. “Terrible business, couldn’t believe it when I heard. Explosion in the powder magazine, was it?” So he knew that but he didn’t know about the sea monster, or if he did he kept it to himself. Looking grim, you nodded once. “And then to be taken prisoner by the self-same criminal you’ve been pursuing…” He affected a sympathetic tone, but there was a gleeful light to his eyes as he said it and you bristled. Smoothing your ruffled feathers you tried to push the conversation forward. “I’m here to negotiate, Renard,” you said. “I’m unharmed, as you can see. Zhuk even saved my life, surely that can be taken into consideration by the Navy and the judiciary?” Renard gave a thoughtful hum, leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers as he mulled over your question. “It’s quite possible,” he admitted at length. “Though piracy is piracy in the end, it is a detail that could be used in his favor in court.” You silently exhaled in relief. “But it hardly matters, does it?” 

There was a coldness, a maliciousness to Renard’s simple statement and when you met his gaze the look on his face chilled your blood. He was grinning pleasantly, but the mirth did not reach his eyes. “I have been tasked with exterminating the scourge of piracy, a task that you yourself apparently were not capable of seeing through.” Your hands bunched into tight fists on the arms of your seat and you sat forward, opening your mouth to argue, but he continued, speaking over you. “It is not the business of the Royal Navy to extend pardons to criminals based on one random act of charity. You could, of course, contact the judiciary, explain the situation and bid them to issue your pirate friend a letter of marque. But that’s a lengthy process, isn’t it? So much quicker to do things my way.” Panic spiked in your stomach as you scrambled for a way to reason with him. “What about the conglomerate!” you exclaimed. “You know the reports say that there is almost certainly a coalition of pirates working together! He’s sure to be part of it, and if he is he’ll know the names of the others! He has information that the Navy needs!” Renard made a face and a show of thinking it over. “Hmm, I don’t much see the point. Even if the conglomerate is real, any names will be irrelevant once they’re all at the bottom of the sea.”

Your jaw clenched and Renard’s grin only grew wider, enjoying the way you quietly boiled with fury. Unable to stop yourself, you snapped, “Pardoning criminals? You mean like yourself? If not for the mercy of the Navy and the judiciary, you’d be swinging in a gibbet, feeding the crows even now.” Renard laughed at that, a frigid and brittle sound like cracking ice (and nothing like the warm, deep belly-laughter of the Russian captain). “Oh, you think it was mercy, my dear? No, no, allow me to elucidate: it was enterprise that saved my neck. This ship,” he paused to gesture grandly at the room around you. “This machine, rather; my design. I offered them a device purpose-built for conquest on the sea, but I played my cards carefully and made myself indispensable. And just look at how far I’ve come.” Renard rose from his seat then, looking down his nose at you with that same reptilian grin. “So to summarize, Captain,” he said, putting sardonic emphasis on the word, “There will be no leniency today. You have conveniently seen to your own release, which leaves no need for quarter. Though, to be frank, since no one knew you were alive at all this is an unforeseen turn of events. But it changes nothing.” He strode past you towards the French doors, pausing in the doorway to have one last word. “Do make yourself comfortable. This won’t take long.”

You sat, paralyzed with shock and rage and, if you weren’t mistaken, fear. Zhuk may have sea monsters or whatever tricks up his sleeves but you knew Renard. He was many things, none of them good, but he was a man of his word. And this ship, you had no idea what it could do. It had been common knowledge that part of Renard’s plea deal had involved some sort of building plans, but in your wildest dreams you could never have imagined this iron monstrosity. You stood, certain of one thing above all others: you had to get back to the Perperuna. Zhuk had spared your life, not once but twice. You had to warn him. No one stopped you when you left the navigation room, or ordered you back from the rails when you cast down the ladder once again. You hadn’t really expected them to. You rowed hard back to Zhuk’s ship, wondering all the while what Renard was waiting for when he was already set on attacking. Bitterly you thought, Why does a cat play with a mouse? The bosun looked surprised when you hauled yourself back over the railing after the crew had raised the longboat back into its davits. “Where’s Zhuk?” you asked without preamble, and the man pointed toward the door that led below decks. You thundered down the narrow corridor to the captain’s door, shoving it open without knocking. Zhuk spun around at your loud entrance, standing at his desk. “Volchitsa,” he began, sounding genuinely surprised. “What are you doing here?” “He’s going to attack,” you gasped, desperate to impart this crucial information. “Even if I hadn’t come at all, he was always going to attack. He means to sink the ship.” Zhuk hummed grimly, crossing the room in a few long strides to stand beside you. For a long moment neither of you moved or spoke, though you did tense when he lifted a hand to carefully tuck a strand of your windswept hair behind your ear. “You have my gratitude, dorogoy,” he rumbled softly. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was a result of the display of tenderness or gentle words or your exertion in the rowboat, but you gave your head a little shake, feeling that he did not fully appreciate the urgency. “Didn’t you hear me?” you practically shouted. “Renard is going to kill you!” Zhuk chuckled warmly, but there was steel in his eyes as he replied, “He may try.” Rapid footfalls pounded up the passage behind you and you both turned to see the bosun. “Captain! The enemy ship is moving, sir! Looks like we’re in for a fight.” Zhuk laid a heavy hand on your shoulder and turned you back around to face him. “Stay here,” he said, indicating his cabin. “I will come for you when it’s over.” Without waiting for your protestations, he bustled past you and closed the door after himself. You stood alone in the cabin, feeling panic bubbling up from your innards as Zhuk’s booming bellow drifted to you from the deck, telling the crew to man their stations and prepare for battle. 

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 [Translation: dorogoy, “my dear”]

Historical accuracy? Nope, don’t know her. I’m just here to have fun with pirates.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3