Chapter Text
The sudden movement on deck is what rips Leona from his sleep; it’s all peaceful and quiet until suddenly it isn’t, and he feels a shift in the ship. Huh , he thinks, but still it takes some time for him to crack open his eye to see what the commotion is about.
“It’s a large one,” he hears one of his men exclaim. Simultaneously, he catches a glimpse of four others pulling on a rope. “Fuck, it’s really huge! Captain, come here! Look at this!”
Ah. A catch.
He yawns, stretches like a big cat. Sure, he’d love to stay put in his sunny spot, but he can’t say the uproar doesn’t peak his interest just a little bit; after all, not every day they are catching something so big it makes everyone hurry to see the spectacle and call out for him.
In fact, with all those voices now overlaying in demanding his attention, it almost feels like they managed to snatch a sea monster from the way they yell in excitement. Five men, now, pulling the net and it makes Leona wonder what kind of gigantic beast they have caught.
“You guys sure love making a ruckus,” he yawns out, finally getting up and scratching the back of his head, ruffling his messy hair. His tail moves lazily as he strides over, albeit making sure to not look as curious as he actually is. “This better be Loch Ness that you caught, with all the noise yer makin’.”
Of course he knows Loch Ness isn’t real, and if it were, it definitely wouldn’t be in the ocean. He still thinks that all this ruckus better be worth his attention, and he has to make a point of it.
Again, numerous voices, and he can’t even begin to make out what each of them are saying. “Calm down,” he says and sighs. He’s a lion, he has good hearing, no need to shout, right? But apparently everyone thinks they still need to let even the birds in the sky know that his attention is required.
Today has been a nice day so far. The sun is high in the sky and the wind has finally picked up some; a gentle, salty breeze to make the heat just a little less bothersome, and they could finally continue their journey. But, a nap is a nap and that has to be respected, and so of course he has to take said nap, it’s the rules of nature. He can’t just sail a ship when he’s tired.
But not like this. He hopes that if he walks over, looks at it, deems it boring that they will finally leave him alone.
“Alright, let’s see what’cha got,” and he leans on the railing of the ship expecting the bare minimum. And sure enough, there’s a bunch of salmon. But then he does a double take and takes a step back, looking at his crew, and back down in haste. “What the fuck?”
That fish- no, that thing is huge . Seriously huge . And he blinks a few times, just to make sure his eye isn’t playing a trick on him; but no matter how often he looks, he still sees an enormous tail of a fish in the most vibrant hues of purple, vivid blue and eye-catching red.
He shakes his head in disbelief but when he looks again, it’s still there.
He finally shouts. “Pull it up!” All men comply, now six of them, to pull up the net that is filled to the brim with salmon and that thing. He himself clings to the railing and faintly he makes out that even Ruggie had come down from his watch post to see what the fuss is about.
“I’m not sure if we should pull this thing on the ship,” says Jack. He’s a newer crew mate and Leona isn’t all too familiar with him yet, but he does have a point. There’s no telling what weird fish this is. Even as a seasoned pirate, not even him had seen such a sort of fish before.
But his complaint falls on deaf ears, and the men pull harder. It’s almost all the way up when it seems to struggle; the net slides a bit, there’s a harsh yank, and…
An arm suddenly pops out of the net.
It’s just dangling there and Leona can’t see where it begins, there’s just too much salmon, but the discovery leaves him speechless for a second. The next moment, though, he can hear himself calling out, “Pull it up, there’s some person in there!” and everyone complies with his command.
But damn, he hopes they didn’t just fish up a corpse.
“Yikes. What’s that? Some human-eating giant fish?” Ruggie says and Leona shrugs.
“Hell if I know,” he replies, and both stare at the procedure.
It doesn’t take too long – with all six men combined pulling on the rope – and finally, they manage to get the nicely wrapped salmon-monster-package on deck; they move swift, then, cutting it open and it all falls apart, some of the fish just wringing around, most of them covering what he can now see is half a human’s body.
“Oh shit,” and he realizes that this, indeed, has to be a human-eating fish that had probably just gotten to its dinner. He’s not sure whether to be glad for it or not – at least the thing should be full now, right?
“Stay back. I’ll take care of it.” His command is clear and all his men move a step back, maybe two. They look at each other in confusion, at the salmon-covered monster in shock; he can’t blame them, he’s the same, but he thinks that now, if anything, it is the perfect time to be a good captain and get rid of it again.
And so he does, approaching it. The tail thrashes less now, but it still seems to struggle under the weight of the other fish. The human, too, moves slightly and it confirms what in mind has to be a half-eaten person being flung around by a sea-monster.
Seriously. With those – admittedly very charming to look at – fins, this thing has to have a total length of over three meters.
What the hell is wrong with the ocean?
He can’t think of it for too long, after all, there’s a sea monster to be yeeted off the ship. However, when he tries to grab the tail, he realizes that
A) This thing is more slippery than he would’ve imagined, and
B) This thing does not want to be yeeted.
A is easy to tell; his grip slides when he tries to take a hold of it sure enough. But B… Well, the moment he does manage to get a good hold of the tail – or, at least he thinks he does – he’s reminded of A, and not only does that oversized fish slip from his grip once again, but also, the tail very powerfully slaps him across the face.
He sees stars for a second and bitch , it’s on.
His sword is quickly drawn; if that thing won’t leave alive, then sashimi it is, and he knows how to kill a fish-
But he stops.
He stops, and so does everyone. There’s silence, and they seem to collectively realize that it has struggled free from under the salmon mountain. And it’s not… It’s just not what he expected. He’s sure no one has, to be fair.
“What the fuck - What the fuck ?”
The words get stuck in his throat. No way in hell this is real, he’s still on deck and napping the day away. He’s dreaming.
Or, he’d think he was, if he hadn’t just been slapped by a giant fucking mermaid tail in the face .
There are so many things wrong about this situation, and he can’t even fathom to begin where to describe that this was even more surreal than if they had actually pulled up motherfucking Loch Ness out of the ocean. At least an ancient underwater dragon in the seas sounded more plausible than… this .
It takes a few moments for him to regain his composure and he realizes he’s still rubbing his reddened cheek; that hit had really blown out his lights for a second there. But now that he’s back in reality – or, what seems to be a sick joke of reality – he also realizes that that mermaid has propped herself up on her arms and is currently making her way towards the railing again in slithering motions.
Oh hell no.
His movements are quick, then; he almost leaps at the figure on the ground, taking a hold of her shoulder, and he’s positioned easily enough that when he pulls, turns her around, he immediately is able to straddle the slim body and cage her with his full weight, arms pinned to the wooden floor.
He stops. Again.
You see, Leona has heard his fair share of mermaid tales. He’s a pirate after all, so naturally, he’d come around to hear one or two fairy tales and drunken sailor stories. He knew people loved to describe mermaids as flesh-eating, monstrous creatures of the seas that would lure innocent men in with their beautiful singing; only at night, however, so the drunken sailor would not see her ugly grimace and rotten, pointy teeth before they died? What a scam.
But it’s all bullshit anyway.
What he sees is nothing like an ugly grimace.
Truthfully, even with hair messed up probably due to being stuck in a net, the blonde strands that stick to her face perfectly frame her high cheekbones. She looks rather disheveled, but it does not take away from her charm whatsoever – actually, Leona finds, it just adds to her beauty if anything. From her straight nose to those pouty lips, the blush adorning her skin that is glistening with moisture, there is nothing he can fault on that.
But most of all, he’s instantly drawn to amethyst eyes framed in long, dark lashes, staring right back at him in shock and surprise. Her mouth is slightly agape and her breathing seems heavy, but he can’t focus on that when he gets lost in the way she looks at him from beneath.
“Holy shit,” he finally breathes out, and his throat suddenly feels way too dry.
She, too, seems lost for a moment; the state doesn’t last, and the next thing Leona knows, she’s already thrashing beneath him again, trying to escape his grip. She’s fucking strong, but unfortunately for her, not strong enough.
It appears that she realizes it, too. Her movement creases, but her eyes look more defiant than before. Behind himself, he can hear Ooh-s and Aah-s and he can only figure that his men see this beauty as well. For once, he’s quite glad he got up from his nap to have the front row seat.
“A mermaid, huh?” He finally speaks and she furrows her eyebrows. She still tries to wriggle her arm free, but to no avail. “What’s a beauty like you doing here?”
He’s not even sure whether she understands him or not, actually. So far, not a word has left her mouth, and for a second, he considers that she might even be mute, but the next thing he knows, she just spits in his face.
“Get off me, you savage.”
Wait.
Hold up-
“You’re a guy?” Despite feeling speechless, he still presses the words out at the realization. The voice is definitely not what he expected, yet still perfectly fitting in the weirdest sense. Only absentmindedly he wipes his face. Any other day, he’d taken offense in it, but he’s too distracted to even acknowledge this act of disrespect.
She- no, he rolls his eyes underneath him and his tail comes up, the fins moving as if to show something off, yet it adds nothing to clear any questions Leona has. The action really just confuses him more.
It seems like his perplexity is obvious on his face as he rolls his eyes again and sighs. “Humans,” he says in the most distasteful tone he probably can muster, but continues pointedly at him, “look, now that we established I’m not what you assumed I am and you have manhandled and ogled me enough, can I leave? I do have matters to attend to.”
He says this so matter-of-factly that it makes Leona furrow his eyebrows in turn now. As if having matters to attend to is the biggest issue when you’re a mer…person caught on a pirate ship?
“You’re strange,” he says.
“And you’re heavy. Get off me,” the other replies.
As if it hadn’t just taken six of his men to pull him out of the water.
He opts not to say it; something in his gut tells him that angering this mermaid wasn’t the safest option. Scratch that, his burning cheek is telling him that. He by now knows that getting slapped by this guy is no joke.
Leona shakes his head. “I can’t let you go,” he says and smirks. “I’m sorry, dear mermaid, but you’ll have to come with me.”
“What do you mean?”
His face shows disbelief, but again, Leona doesn’t address it. He simply gets off the merman and waves over his crew. “Ruggie, tie him up. Make sure he can’t escape. If you need to, tie him to the mast.”
The smaller man groans and mumbles something akin to “Why do I have to do it? Have Jack do it…”, but still he moves over, waving a few more of the crew members to help him with his task.
Ah, today really is a good day.
“Let’s set sail, men,” he finally calls out. “Our destination is Sunset Savannah.”
He can only but expect the face Farena will make when he sees that Leona has been right all along.
Mermaids do exist.
Vil’s arms feel numb.
He feels dizzy and disoriented and it’s hard to tell where up and down is, but he figures ‘up’ is where the relentless sun is blasting its heat down and the birds sing a song of mockery at him.
He’s tied to the wooden pole in the middle of the ship and the realization that he can’t escape slowly begins to settle in. Not only did they tie him to the mast, but also this Ruggie person was perceptive enough to realize he would be able to claw through the ropes they tied him up with, with his nails. So now, his arms are tied elbow to elbow behind his back and everyone seems to make sure to keep their safe distance simply so he can’t hit them with his tail.
Apparently, the blooming bruise on that savage’s face is telltale enough for them to not even try and approach him.
And Vil is proud of it.
When he had gotten up that morning, surely getting abducted onto a human ship had not been on his agenda; in fact, he really did have plans for the evening and at this rate, he would miss them. And if he didn’t miss them, he’d still not be able to prepare in time even if he got off the ship at this moment.
Ugh, what a bother.
He grumbles silently. As of this moment, he has no way of actually escaping his predicament. And surely, one would call out how calm he is, but he’s no stranger to unfortunate situations. Panicking is the last thing that will help him in a situation like this, he knows. He just has to think his options through carefully.
Rolling his shoulders, he finds that movement doesn’t help with easing his restraints at all – if anything, they dig in his skin deeper. He’s sure that he will have red marks all over his body already, and there’s none other than this brute person to blame.
At least it’s not too painful, not too tight, and he’s sure he can wriggle free of it eventually. But there’s another pressing issue in his plan of escape: several humans staring at him. Nonstop.
What, as if he had another head atop his shoulders?
There’s nothing interesting to see here, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to engage in conversation with them. Even what he had said before had been too much already for what they deserved. Seriously, that person not even realizing he’s male when he’s clearly one? Aren’t his betta fins enough to tell at first glance?
To make matters worse, those idiots had taken all his jewelry. No, of course it’s not enough to kidnap someone, let’s also strip them of all their possessions! They’ll be absolutely okay with that!
Humans.
He blows some now-dried hair out of his face. It’s been maybe an hour or so, he can’t tell without the currents, but it feels like he’s been tied up for a week already. Like some attraction that people would pay to see, just that he is the probably most boring attraction since he can’t do a single thing even if he wanted , being tied up and all.
They say things, those men, but he can barely understand a word. Their accents are so strong he wonders if it’s an entirely different language than Common, and even that he isn’t exactly fluent in. Since merfolk don’t communicate by speech, there’s just no need to know how humans talk.
(And yet, he does.)
Whatever. It’s just a matter of time until he’s saved, he thinks. Epel is a fast swimmer – he will be able to reach Rook in no time and then, they will… Actually, how will they save him?
When Vil had called for Epel to get Rook, it had been more of a knee jerk reaction to getting caught in a net. But now that he thinks about it, he’s not so quite sure how they will go about it. It matters not, he reassures himself, Rook is smart. He will find a way.
And Vil knows he’s the kind of person that would go to the ends of the world just to find and free him.
At least there’s one dependable person in his social circle; it’s not like he can say the same about a certain lilac-haired guppy prince who was, in fact, the reason for this unfortunate situation to begin with. If Epel hadn’t felt the need to hang out by a ship, Vil wouldn’t have had to push him out of the way and get caught instead.
But what options did he have? It was either sacrificing himself for the other’s safety or returning to the kingdom and having to tell the King that he had – accidentally – lost his most precious son to humans. Besides that, while Vil might be inconvenienced at best, he knew for a fact that the dear prince wouldn’t be able to handle this.
Or, worse, he would actually want to go with these humans.
“It’s not so bad here,” a voice suddenly calls out to him and he looks up. It’s the dark-haired man with the strange ears again, and Vil gives him the most displeased expression he can muster up. “If you’re trying to slap through the ship with your fish-legs, that ain’t happening. So you can stop.”
The words take a moment to process, luckily he doesn’t talk too fast so the words he can pick up make a little bit of sense. They make more sense when he notices his tail has been thumping on the wooden ground in annoyance. He does, indeed, stop, if only for his poor scales that might get hurt.
“It is bad,” he retorts and glares. “Very bad. Return me to the sea.”
“Ah, pray tell. Why is it so very bad, then, in your opinion?” It appears the man is mocking him, judging from his smirk and his tone. It infuriates Vil just more.
“First, you’re rude. Second, everyone is looking at me. I don’t like it. Third, how can being taken away from home not be very bad?”
“Details.” The man shrugs but doesn’t come closer, like he has learned his lesson. The bruise is blooming in a vivid shade of red and purple and Vil thinks it suits his stupid face just fine.
He can’t even begin to describe how it bothers him that such a handsome man has such a rotten personality! When looking at him now, standing tall with his exposed chest puffed out, hands on his sides and grin on his lips, he looks so charming it’s hard for Vil to take his eyes off him. The ears might be strange, but they are so expressive that he can’t find a fault with them. They are cute, even, especially when they twitch. It reminds him of-
He shakes his head.
There’s no way he can afford to daydream right now. He has to get off the ship, there’s no time to look at these sharp, handsome features, the scar running down his cheek mostly covered by an eyepatch. At those emerald eyes with a slit pupil, so exotic and unlike anything he’s ever seen. Looking like they hold so many secrets, he wants to know them all-
Again! Damn it. He really is weak for pretty things. And, regrettably, this man falls right into that category, at least looks-wise. Personality wise? Oh dear, where can he even begin to describe this dumpster fire of a man. He has a feeling that this is just a running gag of the universe. He’s surrounded by beautiful people and yet each and every of them is weirder than the next.
He decides to roll his eyes again. “I wonder,” he begins, voice drenched in sarcasm, “are we going where you found your audacity, or where did you get it from?”
The man laughs, then waves his hand in a gesture Vil does not quite understand. “Sorry to disappoint yet again, but I was born with it. I mean, not like yer wrong, you’re actually not too far off, ‘cause we’re going to my hometown.”
“Ah, lovely. Say hello to your hometown then, but without me.”
He feels like this innuendo falls on deaf ears, because he still is tied to this pole and still not let go. He also notices that the more time passes, the lower his chances of actually returning home are. He has absolutely no idea where they are going, no orientation whatsoever, he simply knows they’re moving by the way the ship is swaying. It makes him feel just a little nauseous, too.
Circling him, the man makes sure to not get into slapping radius. Just when he’s right next to him, the man finds yet again the audacity to touch him, this time grabbing him by the chin and turning his head so they’re facing each other. Way too close.
“I don’t think you understand this, little Mermaid, but I’m not letting you go just yet. There’s a point to be proven, and you’ll help me.”
With hands tied so he couldn’t push him away and the man being so close to his face that slapping him with his tail was out of the question lest he wanted to hit himself as well, he opts instead to try to bite him. Unfortunately, his reflexes are too quick.
He laughs again.
“So the rumor of human-eating mermaids is real after all. Color me surprised.”
“I wouldn’t eat you even if I’m dying of hunger.”
“Wow. Aren’t you going to ask me on a date before going all kinky-biting on me? If it's not hunger, then that must be it, right?”
Wha- This man! The audacity! The shamelessness!
Vil could feel his entire face heat up – more than what the sun was already doing to him – and the laughter of this guy only makes matters worse.
“You…!” He wants to argue, but that person instead reaches out to pat his head like a little child’s. What he wants to do to him and his stupid hand, Vil can’t even put into words. None of those things are good, though.
“Calm down and relax, princess. It’s gonna be a long journey, so you better behave, or this will be one hell of a ride for you.”
He withdraws and walks away, a fluffy tail swinging behind him. He still laughs, and Vil is sure that whenever he gets his hands free, he will definitely strangle this man down.
It’s only a matter of time until he’ll be free…
Right?
Chapter Text
The sky is turning orange slowly and the sun changes to a deep shade of red just similar to his scales.
If for any other situation, Vil would’ve been sure to enjoy the sight. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, mesmerizing, and to make it even better, the air also finally cools down around them. He feels dry, his tail already having lost shine, and the air that flowed into his lungs stung like a million needles.
He hasn’t used his lungs to breathe in a very long time; of course he hasn’t, why would he if his gills did the work underwater, and there wasn’t much air underwater anyway?
The first few hours had been exhausting. He had to focus on the action and more often than not, he stumbled over it just a bit. But what else could he do when there were ropes pressing his gills shut? Now, however, he’s used to the motion already and he’s quite thankful his body adapted so quickly, since oxygen is quite useful when one wants to stay alive.
He’s just the slightest bit offended that neither Epel, nor Rook, nor the royal guards have come to get him yet.
Ah, but he also knows even if they have, there’s no way he can tell from up here.
The deck is slowly emptying out. While he’s tied to the mast, he has the perfect spot to watch those two-tailed humans hurry from one end to another, fixing what has to be done. It seems like they’re getting ready for something, but as per usual, he, as the guest of honor, is not let in on the secret.
They even pull up the cloth that had caught the wind to make them travel the sea, and it makes him wonder whether they were going to take a break, or if they decided to just stay here. Or maybe it is that they are scared of the darkness, like the pathetic stick-walking things they are.
There is, however, one amongst them that doesn’t seem all too bothered; his hair is white and his skin is tan and he, too, is a very beautiful man, so handsome it makes Vil wonder whether their leader casted his followers based on looks. Then, he looks at another scruffy guy and dismisses that thought right away.
That man is hard-working unlike others, throws the large, heavy metal-hook right over board all by himself and well, what can Vil say? He does appreciate the view he has on how his muscles flex under the strain. While he’s here, he may as well enjoy the show for what it is.
Now and again, their eyes meet. Purple meets amber, and there’s something in them that he can’t begin to decipher, but it’s not the same way those others look at him. The best bet he has is pity, but that’s also not it entirely.
The sun is slowly disappearing behind the seas, he notices, and it takes him back. He’s seen it before and it’s just as stunning as his memory lets him recall. Ah, but that was a long time ago.
Under the surface, well, they do notice when the sun is gone, but it’s more of a gradual ‘less and less light’ rather than hues of purple and orange and blue and red. He looks up and just as he recalls, those glowing lights in the sky appear, one by one. It takes time, but it’s a spectacle that leaves him speechless.
It reminds him of home, when one by one the city lights would light up, illuminating the paths and houses, shells and corals. He’s always been rather fond of strolling Proxene at night, but he can’t say he minds this either, when orange and red change to dark blue and soon enough, the only thing to brighten the night is the second, more subtle and silvery sun with all those little lights in the sky.
“Are you cold?”
Vil twitches slightly. He didn’t expect to be talked to so suddenly and it’s now that he realizes he’s been staring upwards this entire time and him and the owner of the voice were alone on deck.
It’s the boy with the white hair again. His ears are, by far, larger than the other man’s, and so is his tail. It appears they are different species, but that’s not surprising. He thinks that if there are different merfolks with different fish tails, there surely would be different humans with different fluffy tails, even though he still couldn’t quite figure their use out. What do humans need three tails for, when merfolks only need one?
They still look charming enough that he doesn’t say a thing about it.
Yet, he’s unsure what the man wants – his words are clear and he speaks slowly, and Vil knows the words, but the intentions are what Vil finds questionable. So far, not a single one of these men has taken the time to ask him for his well-being, and suddenly this?
Highly suspect.
He decidedly doesn’t answer, shrugging, looking away in hopes that the other will leave him alone. But no such luck, because he approaches him fearlessly. Unlike the others, he comes up front, just like that.
“I’m sorry,” the white-haired man says as he squats down closer to Vil so they’re eye to eye. It’s already pretty dark, but he seems to look directly at him as if it doesn’t bother him. “I should’ve introduced myself first. My name is Jack. Here, you must be thirsty.”
Jack is his name, then, yes? Hm, it suits him, Vil finds. The boy then reaches out and Vil finally sees that he has been carrying something in his hands. He holds it close to his mouth and in turn, the merman looks at him questioning.
“Don’t worry, it’s just normal sea water,” he explains. “You can drink it safely.”
With help, Vil takes a sip wordlessly and sure enough, it is nothing but the water of the sea, and oh, how good it feels to have the cool liquid run down his throat and rehydrate him. He sighs in relief silently and drinks more until the container is empty.
He titles his head then, questioning, still mute. Jack clears his throat, scratching the back of his head, and Vil can swear there’s a blush spreading across his cheek if his night vision isn’t deceiving him. “I saw you spit out the normal water we have, so I figured you need salt water,” he explains bashfully.
Is that why he had been observing him? It seems a little strange to Vil, but he’s thankful nonetheless.
“I appreciate it, Jack,” he finally breaks his silence and gifts the other with a gentle smile. Maybe this human isn’t too bad. “And I’m not cold. It’s still too warm for my liking. Where I live, it’s usually colder.”
The bottom of the sea is cool; he’s used to it though, so the heat of the sun had really messed with his head earlier, the shade of the mast very welcome when it covered him. The other nods in understanding and smiles, too.
“You’re quite the brazen one, aren’t you, Jack? To approach me even though you saw what I did to the other human. Aren’t you scared of my tail?” He asks.
But he only shakes his head. “I’m not. You’re not the type of person to just hit people without justification.”
Vil frowns. That’s… unexpected?
“Looks are deceiving,” the merman replies, titling his head in wonder. He sighs. “You are a strange one. I could have knocked you over.
“And yet you didn’t.”
It makes him pause.
He’s not wrong, and that’s what bothers him about it. He’s definitely the type of person to hit just anyone in self-defense, he’s not above violence, but there’s something so infuriatingly innocent about this man that made Vil let his guard down. Jack smiles wider, because he knows he’s right, and Vil can only sigh again.
But the peace doesn’t last long. “You’re Vil, right?” the other asks, then, and it throws him off his pace.
Hearing his name, Vil jumps in his seat, his eyes open wide in shock and surprise. He wants to say something, but his mouth just hangs open. Then, he struggles.
Why the hell does he know his name?!
But almost as if reading his mind, the man places his warm hand on his shoulder reassuringly.
“Ah, I’m sorry again, I… Uhm. I don’t want to offend you. This is just an assumption, but from what Epel has told me-“
“Epel?” The name leaves his lips before he can stop himself, and he knocks the hand on his shoulder away as forcefully as possible. Jack withdraws it willingly, holding up his hands defensively. “How do you know him?!”
Jack’s ears fold downwards and he sighs. “We have been talking for a while. He’s the reason you came to this ship to begin with, isn’t it?” He says and hits the nail on the head.
Yeah, only because of the stupid prince, he recalls. If the king hadn’t gotten notice of his son swimming outside the city walls, and Rook telling him he’s seen him swim upwards, Vil wouldn’t be here to begin with. How could someone who had come of age just recently still be such a stupid child? Almost getting caught in a net of humans, on top of that? It made him furious just to think about it!
“What do you want, human ?” he spits with venom, making sure that the other can feel his hostility.
But he shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing! I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. It’s my fault, after all…” his voice trails off, tone steeping in guilt. “If I hadn’t talked to Epel…”
He really looks like a kicked puppy and Vil now feels bad for lashing out, so he takes a deep breath to calm down. Thinking about it realistically, this boy really didn’t do anything wrong besides being polite and entertaining a foolish prince.
“No, no. You’re not at fault, his idiot guppy highness is. Look, I appreciate the concern, I appreciate the drink, but I’d appreciate it more if you can just throw me overboard,” he tries to reason and Jack nods. At least there’s one sane person on board. He already moves to undo the ties around Vil when they hear footsteps.
“Well, I thought I heard a puppy yappin’, but who would’ve known our little frosch is the culprit. Care to explain what yer up to, Jack?”
Of course it has to be this obnoxious man again. Vil’s face turns into a grimace at the mere thought of having this guy close, but Jack seems afraid enough to let go of the rope and get up, positioning himself in front of his own pathetic self, still tied to the pole.
“I think it’s wrong to keep him here, captain,” he exclaims and Vil nods in agreement behind him, not that the others would see. “We should let him go back.”
The man shrugs. “Sure would love to see where I asked for your opinion, Jack. But sorry, I think my fucks to give just ran out a moment ago, so tough luck, buddy. He stays.” He then points back at the merman who, in turn, frowns. He understood only half of what the sentences in these constellations meant, but he’s sure they mean ‘no’ in short.
“Can’t you see he’s in bad shape? You can’t just keep him up here on deck in the sun,” Jack tries to reason once more – again, Vil nods in the background in agreement – but the snort he earns tells him that, once again, it’s no use.
“If you care so much for his well-being, then be my guest. Go get a barrel large enough, fill it with water and bring him to my cabin. We can’t let the poor fish fry in the sun, now can we?”
Jack seems to want to retort it, but that ‘captain’s’ order is absolute, despite the mocking tone. He mutters a rushed “I’m sorry” and hurries to do as he’s told. He disappears under deck and it’s that man and him, now, alone, staring at each other.
“Let me go,” Vil also tries, and the man laughs.
“As if. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, ya know? Can’t let the golden opportunity just swim away. Besides…” He looks around, at the sky, at the sea, and back at Vil. “Can you even find your way home at this point? We’ve come quite far thanks to the wind.”
Ah… He’s not entirely wrong. Even if he got into the water right now, he has no idea which direction they had gone and neither where the kingdom of Proxene is. Had he been with Rook, it would be no problem whatsoever – he really deserved the title of Royal Huntsman – but on his own, he was… Well, not as well equipped to be a pathfinder.
He still frowns. “Of course I can,” he lies through his teeth knowing damn well he’s as lost as a little clownfish, but refuses to acknowledge the fact. “Let me go and I’ll show you.”
“And how will I see you’ve made it?”
“By me being gone from here.”
“That’s not how that works,” and regrettably, he is very right, but that isn’t the point. He will not give him the satisfaction of superiority.
“I’m done talking to you,” he says.
“Because I’m correct?”
“Because I don’t talk to idiots.” The other laughs again, mumbles something incomprehensible. An idiot, but sadly right that Vil can’t just … go.
Besides, there’s still the issue of his jewelry having been stolen, and he really wants it back before going home. They are some of his better finds, and it’s hard to come by nice gold and silver adornments.
He hates it here.
It’s amusing to see the merman stumble over his own logic, it’s so painfully obvious that he has no clue where he is or what he should do that Leona almost takes pity on him.
But he really, absolutely can’t let him go.
He knows it’ll become a pain in the ass later on, having him in his cabin, but after this display of disobedience from Jack today, he can’t risk it on many levels. Jack is one thing, Jack is pure and sweet, too good for his own well-being, but others on the ship… Not so much. He’s actually glad that his little frosch was the one who went to the little mermaid that night, because it showed him the exact issue with it: Everyone can just go there.
They’ve been on the seas for many moons; Leona knows they have to get on land soon enough before his men get riled up too much, and having a pretty face like that on board, that’s just asking for trouble when left unsupervised. Aside from the casual threat that tail poses.
Not to say his men are bad, anything but that, but they’re still a rough bunch. While waiting, he can already imagine the fights breaking out over the merman’s affection.
Aside from that, he also doesn’t know how much truth is behind the tale of siren songs. He’s very much okay with his men not being mauled to death by a (half?) cannibalistic merman. Again, he has no idea whether merfolk eat humans or not, but there’s something inside him that tells him he’d rather not figure that out after the fact.
When Jack returns, he has the largest barrel they have on ship with him. Seriously, this boy… Leona wonders where he gets all this strength from, what did his parents feed him as a child? He’s unreal in his own way, but it’s useful as fuck so Leona won’t complain. He nods to the younger, gesturing him to his cabin. It takes a few rounds with buckets for Jack to fill the barrel, and Leona just waits.
“You’re making him do all your dirty work,” the merman says.
Leona shrugs with a smug grin. “I thought you’re done talking to an idiot. Does this mean I’m not an idiot anymore?”
“I can’t believe you. If you want something, work for it yourself. Don’t just make him run back and forth.”
“Ah, I see,” he sighs playfully, “you’re giving me parenting tips. Sorry, but this is just how things work around here. I give the orders, other work for it.”
The merman snorts, “You’re really just lazy.” Maybe he’s not so wrong about that.
Their banter this time is cut short; Jack returns, out of breath, and nods to him. “I’m done,” he confirms, and Leona nods towards the mermaid.
“Carry him inside,” he says.
“Don’t you dare, Jack,” the merman chimes in.
“Do it, Jack,” he orders again.
“You won’t carry me inside, Jack,” and the merman resists again.
“I’m your captain, I give the orders,” he commands.
“Don’t listen to this lazy ass,” and yet again that damned merman is getting on his nerves.
He growls, then, at the tied-up fish-human-hybrid that somehow seemed to think he had any authority on this ship. The hell?
“Jack,” Leona says,
“Jack,” the blonde says,
And Jack looks back and forth between them like a lost little puppy that wasn’t sure whom to listen to.
“I…” he begins, but finally, Leona just groans loudly and rubs his face in annoyance.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll do it, since our dear princess here only wants to be carried by me. Is this your ulterior motive?” The question, of course, is directed at the merman who in turn huffs in victory. “You really want to be held in a pair of strong arms tonight, huh?”
The smug grin he gets in return is both annoying as fuck but also hot as hell, and Leona can’t say he minds it all too much when that smooth voice, again, hurls a jab at him. “If I wanted to be in the arms of a strong man, Jack would’ve been my first choice.”
“Ouch, my poor feelings.” He’s really not hurt, though, but he can’t help acting all dramatic about it. “Whatever will I do, without the o-fish-ial approval of you? Or are you just acting… Koi?”
“I’m not a Koi, I’m a betta. Why would I be acting like a Koi? We look so different.”
“Oh damn, sorry, I couldn’t sea that.” And he laughs because he’s fucking funny, okay?
Even Jack suppresses a giggle. He doesn’t need anyone else’s approval in this case. And the merman doesn’t seem to think those jokes are punny, anyway.
Before the blonde can retort again, he’s already untying the ropes; the ones on his arms stay though, he decides, because he knows for a fact that he will not be alive for long if he lets those claws – nails? – roam free.
Hoisting the man over his shoulder, and he realizes that this merman really isn’t as heavy as he had expected. He’s rather lightweight, considering he’s almost double Leona’s size. Again, it probably only looks that long because those fins are just enormously long.
Aside from a little grunt and some insults, the merman doesn’t thrash around too much. Jack bids them a good night and leaves, and so does Leona with his catch on his shoulder to his captain’s cabin. The barrel is prepared and when he puts the other in the water, he seems to sigh in relief and soak in.
Ah, well, oops . He probably shouldn’t have left him to cook in the sun.
“I’m going to sleep, then,” Leona simply explains. Not like he needs to, but he still thinks it’s polite enough to let the other know. “You sleep, too.” And with that, he pushes the man’s head underwater and puts the lid on the barrel. Is it cruel? Maybe very much so. But he absolutely is not in the mood to be woken up in the middle of the night by an escape attempt.
The knocking on the inside of the barrel dies down after a while.
For a moment, he wonders whether the other drowned.
But that’s a problem for future Leona.
Chapter 3
Notes:
If you do not like descriptions of violence, you might want to skip some parts of this chapter. Or the entire chapter. It gets a little brutal.
Chapter Text
“We can’t lose now!”
There’s loud crashing. Clanging of swords all over the place and the smell of gunpowder fills his nose. He feels gross, and he’s sure there’s someone’s remains sticking to his body, but he can’t wipe it away, because his hands, too, are so covered in blood he will only spread it further.
The loud bang almost deafens him, and the man who had been shielding him drops to the floor with a hole in his head. The warmth of his blood splattered across his face goes unnoticed, the sheer terror rendering him paralyzed and numb.
Why is all of this happening? No, this can’t be.
His body shakes more and more with each step that man takes towards him; his knees are weak, his breathing uneven; not even prayer can save him now.
And he’s helpless, so very helpless. It’s terrifying. All these years spent training to become the commander of the royal marine, and yet here he is, backed into a corner with his men dying left and right.
He’s so weak.
“Protect the prince!” he can vaguely hear, but the thumping of his heart in his ears makes it hard to understand the words.
Everything goes fast, then, when the man in front of him slashes down. A scream, another, it all gets mixed in with each other, and it’s a mess, there is pain coming from his left eye and it’s antagonizing. Someone grabs his arm, pulls him up. Is it friend or foe, he can’t tell, his vision reddened and blurry, and only barely he makes out how the other man drops to the floor. He’s bruised all over and each step knocks the air out of his lungs.
He’s glad that someone strings him along – he can no longer move out of his own violation.
“Live, your Highness,” and he can feel himself getting thrown overboard.
“Let’s take those fuckers down with us!”
It’s the last thing he can hear before water embraces him. Silence. Cold.
Vaguely, an explosion is to be seen, and the shockwave shakes his very core.
He’s going down.
Down.
Down.
Down -
Leona shoots up with a yelp, so quick and abrupt he almost falls out of bed. He’s gasping, inhaling sharply the very air he didn’t have just seconds earlier, hanging onto it for dear life. He feels his throat, his ribs, his eye that is long gone-
Drenched in sweat and stiffened by horrifying memories, he realizes it was just a dream.
He’s still in his cabin, on his bed. His eyepatch is just right next to him and his clothes stick to his body. A sigh, and he finally relaxes a little. Groans, then, and rubs the sleep from his face. He hasn’t had these sorts of dreams in a while, so why…
But he knows he’s not over it, and he thinks maybe he’ll never be.
Thump. Thump. Thump thump thump.
Leona looks up from his seat, startled for a second by the sudden ruckus before he remembers he’s not alone in his private chamber. He has a guest who has, luckily, not drowned in the barrel, judging from the noise he’s making. He’s probably also to blame for the weird ass dream, Leona thinks.
Nevertheless, he still gets up and makes his way to the other. He’s not quite ready to face the consequences for his actions, but he also thinks that keeping the poor fella in there for too long will not improve his mood the slightest, so he’d better get over with it sooner than later.
“Geez, calm down,” he yawns, too tired to deal with this shit. He lifts the lid off the barrel. “Stop ma-”
All he sees is a flash of blonde before the words get knocked right out of his mouth and Fuck -
“Holy shit,” the merman curses and rubs his head, but it’s nothing in comparison to Leona who curses just the more under his breath, a wide variety of anything he’s ever heard because that fucker’s head is obviously a fucking brick, a brick that just got slammed right up his nose!
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and he stumbles back against his desk, his hand trying to keep the blood gushing from his nose from going literally everywhere – and fuck it feels like he just broke it, it’s a goddamn miracle it’s still attached by the sheer force with which they impacted.
He needs a cloth asap; luckily for him, there’s just so much shit spread over the floor that it’s not hard to find one amongst the piles of clothing, a deep red one so the stains won’t be too obvious later on.
Of course, he curses some more.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?!” He hisses, and the other glares.
“I’m the one who should ask that! How dare you! To lock me in this tiny space for so long! I’m not an octopus!”
“More like an octopussy-”
“A Betta! How often do I have to tell you that I am a Betta?” The man seems even more upset, but again, Leona thinks he’s mighty funny despite the situation and that he’s barely awake either way.
He takes a seat in his large chair and leans his head back, trying to keep his nosebleed from running all over his face even more. It doesn’t seem to stop, unfortunately.
“Whatever. Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” he groans out, not even daring to look at his new friend. Couldn’t he at least have caught a cute mermaid? Did it have to be a super-diva with the sheer force of a fucking gorilla?
“It’s not a good morning,” he deadpans. “Actually, it’s not even morning.”
Leona shrugs. “It’s called sarcasm.”
The other glares more. “No, it’s called being an asshole.”
Color him surprised, Leona didn’t think that this guy would know a word like that. Then again, he knows nothing about merfolk, so maybe they curse like drunken sailors all the time under the water and this particular specimen is just too keen on being a pretentious prick.
He eyes him carefully; his hair is even messier than yesterday, and his arms already look pale from strain. The guy himself is pretty pale to begin with, but those arms are even more so – maybe the whole struggle has gotten him into the predicament of tightening the ropes. He watches him like a predator, notices the way this man shifts uncomfortably, just barely out of the water now, lurking. It feels almost cruel.
“Alright. Let’s make a deal.” His suggestion peaks the other’s interest apparently, and he leans forward in his chair again, still holding the cloth to his face pathetically. His voice is nasal, but whatever. “Tell me your name and I’ll remove those restraints on your arms.”
He’s not a bad guy – at least he doesn’t think so – but he also doesn’t want this guy to think he’s being charitable either. Reach them your pinky and they will bite off your hand, they say, and it doesn’t hurt to get to know him a little if they’re bound to spend the entire journey back to Sunset Savannah together.
The man nods. “Fine. I agree to the conditions.”
There’s a wide variety of knives in his room. He grabs one or another and it doesn’t matter. As he gets up, he also notices the bleeding has calmed down enough, but he’s still somewhat dizzy, he hadn’t remotely imagined that a headbutt would be waking him up so early in the day.
(Not that it’s early, probably, judging from the way the sunrays already make their way into his room through dirty windows. Noted, Ruggie will clean them one day or another soon.)
“So, your name?” He inquires as he approaches the blonde.
“Untie me first.”
“Like hell I will.”
But this man has to be as stubborn as he is pretty.
“No. As long as I’m tied, I will not give you what you seek.”
It is as they say, right? The smarter one gives in. He’s not feeling well, he’s annoyed, he’s had a shitty night so he definitely is not in the mood to have negotiations with a fucking half-fish now of all times. He sighs and cuts the rope, effectively freeing the merman, yet immediately stepping out of reach.
“Don’t low-ball me now.” But the other doesn’t seem to want to attack him again and instead stretches, rubs his arms, makes a grimace and rolls his shoulders that crack in turn. He seems relieved. Well, that’s something.
“Low- what? What do you mean?” He seems puzzled, but shakes his head to dismiss it. “My name is Vil.”
Vil… Vil? Ah. Vil.
“Vil.”
The name sounds melodic when it rolls off his tongue. It’s not a name he’s ever heard before, but it just fits the mermaid so well that it’s almost uncanny. But also, Evil, but not yet, so it’s just Vil. Also very fitting, looking at the spawn of Satan in fish-form.
“Yes, that is what I said,” he replies, and his expression is a telltale of how he probably wonders if Leona is an idiot. He moves his wrists and props himself up on the edge of the barrel afterwards, straining the sore muscles just a bit. He lets himself down into the water and moves his arms some more. Leona feels bad now, even if just a little. Must’ve hurt, he figures.
He returns to his seat once more. He really isn’t in the mood for discussions.
“Whatever,” is all he says before he tries to zone out of the conversation.
But no such luck.
“Is that a mirror?” he hears Vil’s voice, curious, but then he continues with disdain, “My word. Your room is a mess. Has no one taught you to clean after yourself?”
He grunts. “Yes, it is, and thanks for the input, honey. I won’t consider it.” Why clean after himself when for one, he has Ruggie to do it, and also, it will get dirty eventually again anyway?
“Ugh. It doesn’t matter. Give that to me.” He says this like an order, like who the fuck does he think he is? When Leona doesn’t move from his spot, he repeats, “Give me that mirror, now.”
He doesn’t quite get why that guy is so adamant on getting it, but Leona decides for his own sanity that the best route right now is to just hand him the damn thing, and so he does. He doesn’t expect to get a thank you, though, and yet he does. It’s almost charming, but then Leona remembers who this is and how he’s gotten nothing but trouble and a bruised cheek, bleeding nose and a hurt ego from him in the short span of time since they’ve met. He’s not so charming anymore.
The shriek that follows almost pierces his ears. “What now?” he mumbles, and he’s already plenty tired enough to go straight back to bed. He rubs his face again and closes his eye for only a minute.
“Oh god, I look awful. How could this happen? Oh, everything is smudged, my hair is a mess. You, give me a brush. Now.” And he’s back to ordering Leona around like he’s his servant.
“What else?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm.
The other apparently doesn’t get it, or chooses to ignore it blissfully. “Thank you for asking. A clean cloth would be nice.”
“Seriously…” He eyes him, sees him fumbling with his hair, but he realizes it’s no use because he won’t stop bothering him until he gets what he wants, Leona is a hundred percent sure of that one. And so he does what he’s told, begrudgingly; once he hands the items requested over, his feet drag him back to what Ruggie lovingly titles his ‘man-cave’, aka his bed that is littered with literal heaps of clothing and pillows and blankets. “You got what you want, so don’t make a fuss. I’m going back to sleep.”
“But it’s already the middle of the day-” He already blends out the other’s voice. He’s not a participant in this conversation anymore, after all Vil has gotten everything he desired and more. He thinks it’s only fair that he, too, gets what he deserves now: Another round of sleep.
There are a few more complaints, but with his back turned to the mermaid when he lays back down, the other seems to understand that his attempts are futile. He quiets down and for once, Leona is glad that the man seems at least to have somewhat more of a brain than a salmon and enough decency to know when to shut up.
At least he thinks so, but after some time passes, he hears the dreaded merman speak up once more.
“Hey,” he calls out. Yeah, as if he’s gonna react to that. “Hey, you. Savage. Brute. Hey. I’m talking to you.” How sweet. He still tries. Not like Leona will listen.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. I know you’re awake,” he says. Alright, he retracts the statement about his brain size. He’s a mental salmon if he can’t tell that he’s not interested in conversing.
“Hey,
“Hello?
“Hey!
“What?!” Finally, he snaps, sitting right back up and tail twitching in irritation. He’s pissed now, all thanks to Mr. I-Can’t-Shut-Up. If he’s gonna bother him, at least make it quick?!
“Are you expecting visitors today?” The other asks almost innocently.
“Visitors?”
He frowns. What the hell this guy is talking about, he has no idea. But when Vil points towards the window on his left side, it becomes shockingly clear when he sees a fucking ship approaching theirs.
“What the hell is Ruggie doing?”
Just as the words leave his mouth, the door flings open and there is Jack – out of breath and in a hurry – to simply yell, “Captain, there’s- What happened to your face? No, that’s not important, there’s a ship!”
Great reminder. Leona groans. “Yeah, I saw-”
“You didn’t.”
Both him and Jack look at Vil who is leaning onto the rim of the barrel with a grin so smug it makes Leona want to punch him. But now is not the time for banter. “Fine, he did. So?”
“Ruggie told me to tell you. They look hostile, he says.”
He curses under his breath for the n-th time. He had hoped to fix his face before heading out, but apparently fortune isn’t on his side today. Well, it’s no use, so he quickly straps his belt with sword on.
“Let’s go,” he commands, but before they leave, he hurries back to the mermaid. “Sorry not sorry,” is all he says before he once more pushes that head underwater and puts the lid back on. Jack winces, and he’s sure he can hear “But my hair!” from the other before being submerged, but the words are – literally – drowned out.
He has no time to worry about their hostage right now.
They leave in a hurry then.
Vil’s head is still ringing from the earlier impact.
He had only tried to get out of his prison, he hadn’t expected the lid to come off so suddenly. So when he was already ready to make another attempt at pushing off the wood, there was no way he could stop in time anymore.
He leaped, fast, and the next thing he knew was that apparently, this man’s face was made out of stone.
It hurt like hell, still does, but the satisfaction of seeing the other’s nose in such a state was all worth the pain, he found. To be fair, it took him a moment to regain his senses, but when he did… Well, yeah. He was rather proud of his work.
On a side note he had to admit there was something utterly handsome about the way the blood streaked down his face, dripping onto a messy shirt that stuck onto the other’s chest and hugged it ever so tightly, and oh-
It should be forbidden to look this good after apparently only having woken up.
But the sweet memory of the view is already fading; it’s replaced with sheer irritation at how uncooperative the man is.
Admittedly, he hadn’t considered that this man would be ready to cut his ropes in exchange for his name, so Vil decided to haggle with him and it had worked in his favor; with arms now free, it feels like a blessing all the more to finally be able to move again. He still feels stiff, but it’s nothing a little bit of massaging and shoulder-rolling can’t fix.
Of course they fight again and eventually the man goes back to sleep, but Vil finds it rather nice to be able to fix up the mess that he is in peace and quiet. Detangling his hair takes some effort but it’s worth it, it looks shiny and fresh again after brushing it out a few times with the comb that he has been given. Luckily it seems that humans use the same kind of brushes merfolk do, or at least the same shape. Not that Vil believes his kidnapper ever uses one, seeing his messy hair.
The silence is much appreciated and he finally gets some time to think about everything. He can barely feel it in his water prison, but when he looks outside, he thinks they’re on the move again. He applauds the men outside for working harder than their boss apparently ever does.
He can respect the hustle, even if it means it carries him further from home. Maybe he can really convince them to return to where they picked him up? It seems they have maps, all laid out on the large desk in the middle of the room. Vil can’t exactly read it, merfolk don’t use maps per se, but he’s seen it before and he’s sure with their help, they will be able to bring him back.
He just wonders why he has been taken in the first place.
If memory serves him right, the man had said something about showing him off, but he’s not quite sure about it. He realizes that his language skills are still good, but not what they used to be nine years ago. At least he can hold a conversation if it doesn’t go into depth, and also, he seemingly can piss the other off as well, so it’s a win in his book and sufficient enough.
Maybe if he annoys the man long enough, he will return him voluntarily?
Ah, there are plans already forming in his head. He can splash water everywhere, he can bump the barrel all night, he sure as hell give him more headbutts. No need to be stingy, he has plenty to share.
But the train of thought comes to an abrupt halt when out of the corner of his eyes, he sees something outside the window. Luckily his barrel is positioned in a way he can enjoy the view while also not being directly in the sunlight and fry again. He can only imagine how warm the water would get.
That’s not the point. Vil can clearly identify it as another ship, and it looks tacky as hell with the black fabric and a white skull on it. He hasn’t seen this sort of symbol before but it looks like something an average person would put on their ship if they’re out for no good. Hey, why not write ‘Hello, I am an evil person’ directly onto it?
Can humans even write?
He somehow doubts it, they don’t look civilized enough to be that advanced, and his conversations so far have not really convinced him of the opposite either yet.
He still feels like this is something that should be pointed out. And so he calls out for the sleeping man, again and again, and he knows he’s awake because his tail thrashes left and right in annoyance, and, if Vil had learned anything in the past day, it’s that the tail is much more expressive than the man it belongs to.
Again, not the point, but he really likes this little detail. It’s the only appealing thing about his personality, that he has such a tell.
For Vil’s liking, it takes entirely too long to get the man to react, but when he finally does and Vil explains to him that they, in fact, have visitors on their doorstep, he finally reacts adequately.
This could be it. His ticket to freedom. Just imagine, everyone is distracted and he can crawl out of here silently and slip back into the ocean, it’s a bulletproof plan. Now all he has left to do is wait for Jack and this man to finish their conversation, leave, and he can already hear freedom sing in his ears the sweetest siren song, luring him.
But of course, not every bulletproof plan is also fool-proof, and he forgot to calculate in the sheer audacity and foolishness of his kidnapper.
And again, he’s submerged and locked in.
Great, amazing, splendid.
Their footsteps echo over the floor. They’re gone, and he’s back in the eternal barrel-darkness. Just when he had fixed his hair, too! How rough and inconsiderate can one man be? He really needs to go on a journey to find where the man had found the audacity. He wants the same confidence this mediocre man with a personality of a sea slug has.
The barrel is entirely too tight for his long body; he feels like a sardine squeezed in, but at least he can move his hands finally and rearrange his tail to be just a tad more comfortable. But it’s still no good, because the oxygen-level in this water is low, seeing how he had had to use his gills all night. This man really does not understand how ‘breathing’ underwater works, does he?
Vil decides that he’s had it. He will not stay put, he will not endure this longer. Now that the other man is gone, he can freely push against the lid with his hands, too. He presses and presses, and it doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t give up – all he has to do is work harder, press harder, put his entire body into it, and push, push-
And in an instant, he manages to pop it off and resurface, inhaling sharply, the formerly unwelcome air now a blessing to his lungs. Oh god he had never thought this day would come, but he’s actually glad to be out of the water right now.
Naturally his first reaction is to look in the mirror. Check, and his hair is still fine as it was. His braids are still pristine and everything else doesn’t seem all too messed up either. A little shaping of his fringe, and it’s as good as new.
He really is blessed to be naturally beautiful, or else this would be a whole other disaster on its own.
Ah, but back to his plan, now that he’s alone and free. He only needs to get out and it appears as if that man had left the door open, almost as if inviting him to go back to the sea. Vil smiles to himself. What a fool, what an utter buffoon. Too easy.
It’s when he props himself up on the edge of the barrel, though, that he hears noises; he didn’t pay attention before, his looks obviously far more important than whatever is going on outside, but it makes him halt in his action. He can hear metal on metal and screaming, yelling, but he can’t really tell if anything of worth is said.
His ears are sensitive, so he tries to listen in on it more. Fighting. Uh-huh. There’re some very loud noises that sound like nothing he’s ever heard before, and they are rather terrifying. They make Vil stop completely now.
Suddenly, he’s not too sure anymore if he should really get out of here while there’s bloodthirsty men battling outside, because if there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s getting caught by another bunch of unruly men. Here, at least, he has Jack as his ally. He’s not so sure about it on another ship.
Vil is a sensible man. He knows danger when he hears it, and this surely sounds like enough danger that he doesn’t want to get involved whatsoever. But what are his options? Stay here? He thinks not.
It’s to no avail either way. He can already hear footsteps approaching this place again and he knows he’s missed his timeframe for escape, if he ever wanted to try. Well. Fuck.
There’s no time to think, there’s only one choice he can make. His movements are quick and it’s probably the sanest option in the face of danger and not knowing who is coming, so he takes the lid of the barrel and dives back under, placing it over himself loosely; he still leaves a gap however so he can observe secretly, and sure enough, it definitely isn’t the annoying man but another ruffian whom he hasn’t seen before, and who doesn’t seem like he belongs to the crew.
He’s dead silent. Unmoving. Watching. The man says things he literally cannot possibly comprehend, it’s both a hurried mumble and a mix of slurred words in thick accent, but it doesn’t matter, because the man doesn’t seem too interested in his hiding spot at all. It’s the jewelry on the table that does it for him, and the gold in a chest next to it.
That’s just a thing Vil will never understand about humans. What’s so special about those gold coins? They’re nothing but dead weight, one can’t put them on their body, so what’s the deal? They’re so abundant on the seafloor, too, so they hardly seem of any worth for him at all. There’s a few children’s games in the ocean with them, as any kid likes to play with trash, but he can’t imagine people getting all up in arms for some entertainment.
“Hold up right there, buddy.” Vil’s eyes dart towards the entrance of the door. His best friend is back, of course, and he looks super pissed that this guy is currently trying to get a hold of the chest.
“Fuck off, wanker,” the guy retorts, and the other snorts in mockery, holding his sword up.
But the man seems to catch his kidnapper by surprise, because he pulls something from a holster that looks like a metal pipe with attachments and he moves back immediately. His eyes go wide and Vil figures what the intruder is holding up is dangerous enough to even make this ‘Captain’ person back off. His hands are held up and the intruder laughs.
With one hand, he takes a bag full of gold. With the other, he points the pipe-thing at his opponent. They both move slowly in a circle.
If this was a play, Vil would be on the edge of his seat and be paying for the front row seat.
But it isn’t a play, and he can definitely see ‘Captain’ flinch when the guy clicks his pipe thing. He’s right in front of Vil’s barrel now, and he can barely see what’s going on.
“Gimme a reas’n to not blow off yer head r’now, ya bilge picaroon. Ha!”
He gestures with the pipe and the owner of this ship flinches back more. “Shit- Shit, calm down, mate. Ya know, just take the fuckin’ gold and go.”
Oh. It seems he really is afraid of the pipe-thing. The aggressor seems to notice as well. His laugh is utterly despicable.
And again, Vil has absolutely no idea what he is saying when he speaks. “Fuckit, I’ma blow yer head right off! Say yer goodbyes before yer gonna go sleep with the fishes!”
Vil has a bad feeling about this. A very, very, very bad feeling. It’s mostly a reflex when he grabs the edge of the lid and moves up as fast as he can. A swing, a crash, and the lid shatters when it hits the intruder’s head with full force from behind.
He’s on the ground now, Vil is breathing heavy, but at the very least his lights seem to be out for some time; amethyst eyes wide, and he’s really not sure why he did it since he effectively just knocked his free out of jail card out.
“You…” Captain is talking and it takes Vil back to reality. He twitches slightly, still wide-eyed. He stares, and both are breathless. The adrenaline rushes through his veins now and the beating of his heart makes him feel almost dizzy.
Neither of them move. The noises outside get drowned out. It feels heavy and his hands are shaking. He swallows the lump in his throat.
“That… was one of your men?” He asks carefully, finally averting his gaze from that single emerald eye, looking down at the unconscious man.
He misses how the other shakes his head. “No. He’s an enemy.”
Oof. Relief washes over him, he really didn’t want to face the trouble of having knocked out one of the crew mates here. Enemy down is good. Enemy down is amazing.
“You saved my life.”
The words come in surprise to the merman; he didn’t really consider that when he had swung the lid, really, he just didn’t feel good about it, and anyway…
But the sincerity in the other’s voice is clear as day, as is his shock. Vil can agree to that, he’s shocked too. Of course not about knocking the guy prone.
“… I guess?” He’s unsure how to reply to that.
“Why?” Hell, he himself wants to know the answer to that too.
But he’s too stunned. “It’s just what I do,” he honestly admits. He has no better reply.
Their eyes meet again and the world around them seems to be gone. There’s something indescribable in those slit pupils that make him want to ask more, ask why he was afraid, ask why he’s looking at him, so many questions. But his throat is dry and he can’t speak and the pulse in his carotid feels like it’s gonna burst the vein any second. His nails dig into the wood of the barrel and he wants to sink back underwater to hide, hide.
The brunette doesn’t talk, either. His eye seems to be looking for something in him, but Vil is sure whatever answer he’s seeking, he won’t find it. His body is tense and he still seems a little shook, understandably so. Whatever the pipe is, it seems dangerous.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, silent, staring. The sounds outside reduced to white noise.
But then, his green eye darts somewhere else and it widens even more. He reaches out, calls something, but Vil can’t hear it.
There’s a man. “Yer fuckin’ rat-” he screams, but it’s so horribly dull. He’s bleeding from his head, and he’s angry. His breath stinks, even from an arm's length distance Vil can still smell it, and he feels nauseous; the pipe is held up to his head, and it all fades to black in an instant.
A loud crash. A bang.
That noise again, and his ears ring in the worst way possible.
Warmth on his hand.
Drip. Drip.
And he opens his eyes again to see that out of sheer instinct, he had taken the comb from earlier. It’s now stuck in the man’s neck, and he gurgles, blood coming from his mouth. He drops. For the last time now, he thinks.
He can feel warm hands on both his shoulders and he feels like he’s being shaken, but his eyes follow the direction the pipe had been pointed at. There’s a hole and a dark spot on the wall, and if he imagines that the wall could’ve been his head, he feels sick all over again.
His name is being called, but he can’t hear it. It’s still ringing, a shrill noise inside his head. He doesn’t react, and eventually the hands let go of him. He vaguely makes out that the other was running outside again, but again, there’s nothing he can do. Only later, when the door is already slammed shut, his eyes slowly travel towards it.
What sort of destructive power is this?
Vil is left alone with the thought of what could have happened if it had hit either him or the man who had abducted him.
And he realizes he doesn’t want to think about it at all.
Leona hurries back outside to support his men; there’s no use staying with an unresponsive merman, even if said merman had just saved his life.
He needs to take the trash out first, anything else has to wait.
When he returns to the battle, he sees that his crew has already taken care of most of the garbage. There’s only a few still fighting, some retreating, but they’re not so generous when it comes to people who try to hijack his ship. He can also make out a few of his men on the other ship already, looting what there is to loot. He mingles with the masses and makes quick process of them.
He doesn’t know how quick ‘quick’ is, but it feels like a mere few seconds.
Disposing of the corpses also goes along smoothly after, and from what he can see, most of his men are unharmed. A few cuts, but nothing serious, and Jack is already tending to their needs. He stands in the middle of the ship and looks at the mess.
Well, could’ve been worse.
“Ya look outta it, Leona.” His ears twitch into the direction of the voice and sure enough, it’s Ruggie who approaches him.
“Why didn’t you let me know sooner?” he asks, and he tries his hardest not to sound accusing.
Ruggie sighs. “I did as soon as I saw them, but the wind’s kinda strong today. They were just really fast, ya know?” He puts his hands on his slim hips. “And where were you all morning anyway?”
“Busy with,” he gestures vaguely to his cabin, “Mermaid stuff.”
He thinks his face is telltale enough that he hasn’t had the best start in the day either. Ruggie shakes his head.
“How’s he? I heard a gunshot from inside.”
“Fine. I mean, I guess he’s fine? Hell, I don’t know. He fucking stabbed someone with a comb.”
“Oh wow.”
They both look at each other, and both are speechless now that he has said it out loud. They nod slowly to themselves, and neither knows what to say to the fact. Just thinking back, seeing how Vil had taken the comb and hit with such precision it couldn’t possibly have been a coincidence that he made the blow lethal, he wonders now if it really had been a good idea to untie that monster.
“I…” Leona clears his throat, finally, “I’ll go look for him. You make sure everything gets cleaned.”
Ruggie nods, and he’s already heading back inside.
Vil still sits in his barrel, but he seems to have wiped the blood off himself already with some of his clothing. He can’t mind it right now, after all, he had saved his life, so one pair of pants less was the least of his problems. Besides that, that other man was just bleeding all over the floor.
“How’re you holding up?” He feels awkward speaking up, but Vil seems awfully calm for how shaken he has just seemed before. He’s staring up at the ceiling in thought, as it seems.
“Good, good,” the other replies, not looking at him.
Leona titles his head. “If you say so…” he trails off and slowly makes his way back to his chair, sitting in it, turning so he can face Vil. “Are you really okay? You just stabbed a man.”
“Not the first time, and probably won’t be the last.”
It sounds sober when it comes from his lips, and Leona isn’t quite sure whether he tells the truth or not. He waits for anything else the other wants to say, but he doesn’t. So Leona speaks up again.
“You saved my life,” he says. The blonde nods.
“You said that before.”
“Thank you.”
His words are as sincere as they can be. He still feels somewhat out of it, but he’s already better than earlier. He hates guns, he hates what they represent. He fucking loathes them.
Vil probably won’t understand the extent of his gratitude, but that doesn’t matter.
He shrugs. “If you’re that grateful, then return me home.”
“I can’t.”
He rests his elbows on his thighs, slumped over, and he feels worse than ever that he took this man from his home. But there’s no way he can just bring him back.
“Why not?” He asks. Leona can’t fault him for wanting to know.
“Because I made a promise to someone to show him a mermaid.”
Vil looks at him. Then looks at the ceiling again and exhales audibly.
“Will you bring me back when you’ve shown that person?”
Leona nods slowly.
“I promise.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“I hate people that break their promises.”
“I won’t.”
Not again.
Chapter 4
Notes:
I have become a (sub)nautical, thermal, medical expert with side interest in flower meanings. 90% of this chapter is research and me not knowing what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Text
Vil is glad that the mood shifts again; there’s something entirely too uncomfortable about that man’s words, the way they make it seem as if there is a deeper meaning behind them. But he’s not one to pry, and so he doesn’t.
They sit in silence for a while and the other finally cleans his face, removes the bloodstains that attested to their earlier unfortunate wake-up call. He feels just a little bad how bruised the man’s face looks by now, but he also thinks he somewhat deserves it.
The other doesn’t seem to pay him any attention, too focused on tending to his nose and leaning back in his chair, now and then groaning in pain as he carefully feels the bridge of it. Vil takes the moment to lean out of his barrel, reaching to take a hold of the pipe-thing the dead man had dropped; he is still lying there like a silent testimony of what had just occurred.
It doesn’t concern him too much – it’s not his floor getting dirty anyway, and the floor is a mess to begin with – so he takes his time to inspect the machine. It’s heavy in his hands but the wood and the metal both feel smooth. He feels the entirety of it, moves it in his hands carefully trying to understand what this is. There’s a hole in it and a few levers, but their purpose he isn’t too sure about.
He has never seen something like this. Is it some sort of magic catalyst? And again, Vil isn’t even sure whether humans know magic or not, whether it’s forbidden or not, but he figures if someone like his kidnapper knew magic, he would’ve used it by now, especially when faced with lethal danger, so he rules the possibility out.
He just can’t seem to figure out this thing however; he tries to emulate how the other man had held it, but it feels just awkward in his hands. Remembering the click, how the man had done it, and so does Vil, pulling on the lever at top. And clicking it does, but he has no idea what or if anything happened.
The trigger is pulled, yet there is … nothing– but he can see the other man twitching heavily in his seat at the noise. He shoots up and stares – no, glares – at Vil, but relaxes a few moments later again and leans back.
“Put down the gun,” he says, rubbing his eye.
It doesn’t appear he’s fearful of it when it’s in Vil’s hands. “Gun?” he asks because he’s not sure if that thing he’s holding is what he’s referring to.
The other nods though, so that confirms it.
“Yeah? Put it down, for fuck’s sake. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” But he doesn’t sound concerned at all.
“How does it work? I don’t get it. Is it used with magic?” Vil can’t use magic. He’s not a witch. “It did nothing when I used it the same way the man did. Is there a trick to it?”
He’s genuinely curious about this mysterious machine, and it seems the other takes pity on him so he leans forward in his seat, arms lazily resting on his thighs. He looks aloof.
“It’s not magic. Normal people don’t know how to use magic,” he begins explaining and he sounds annoyed as hell, but he still does it and Vil is thankful for it. “You load it with black powder and a bullet and shoot. But it’s a one-shot gun, so it can’t do shit now.”
“What’s black powder?”
“It’s- Why don’t you know what black powder is?” The man throws him a doubtful look. Vil glances back, raises his eyebrow. Gestures downwards. The man groans in realization. “Ah. Yeah. It’s… an explosive, I guess.”
The explanation does nothing to clear up his questions, in fact it opens a whole different can of worms. Vil titles his head.
“Explosive?”
“Yeah. You know, the things that go boom.”
“Boom.”
“Yeah.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vil has never heard something like that underwater, but he figures the man might refer to the strange noises he had heard earlier that had almost blasted his ears off.
He rubs the back of his head. It seems to dawn on him slowly that underwater, explosives just… aren’t a thing. He clears his throat. “Look, I have no idea how to explain it. But it’s bad and you should stay away from it.”
Vil frowns more, but he decides to drop the topic for now; he doesn’t feel like he will get the answers he seeks, but okay, guns are bad, explosives are bad, he will keep it in the back of his mind for the time when he can just move around above water as he pleases – in other words: never.
He drops the gun to the floor, letting it fall on the corpse beneath without a care. Leaning onto the rim, he places his cheek on his palm, head titled as he observes the other curiously, mustering him. He finds that he quite likes it when he is quiet and just sitting there. But there are matters to be discussed.
“Where are we heading?” He changes the topic to something else that has interested him ever since he got captured, and he sees how the man glimpses at the map on the table.
“Sunset Savannah,” he replies, taps his finger on some place or another on the paper, pauses. Clears his throat, then. “I presume you don’t know where that is.”
He’s right on the money. Vil shakes his head.
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“I’m just curious. I want to know where you’re taking me, Captain.”
“Captain?” The man sits up now, frowning, and rolls his shoulders, stretches his neck. His ears are perked up, assumingly in curiosity. He seems somewhat puzzled by it. “Why are you calling me captain?”
Vil is the one who is the actual confused one here.
“Uhm, because that is your name? Everyone,” he gestures towards the door vaguely, “has been calling you that. Isn’t it safe to assume that people would call you by your name?”
But he just chuckles, it’s not malicious or mocking, simply entertained, and Vil can’t say he hates the sound of it. “Damn. You pick up on things quickly, don’t ya? That’s not my name though, it’s my title.” He shrugs. “The name’s Leona.”
Oh.
Yeah, he actually really likes the sound of that.
“It suits you,” he admits out loud and the smile on his lips widens. “Leona. Mhm, yes. It does fit your looks. It’s a good name. But I wonder, is a captain something like a king? Are you the king of this ship?”
“What?” Leona blinks at him, but then he laughs out loud as if he had just been told the funniest joke, but Vil doesn’t get it. “No, no, god I wish, but no. I’m no one’s king. More like… a commander.”
Oh. Okay. That… certainly explains things.
“Ah, and I thought ‘Captain’ was a popular human name…” he mumbles to himself. Sadly, it apparently doesn’t go unnoticed. Leona’s ears twitch in curiosity, but the grin on his lips seems utterly amused.
“Why’d you think that?” He asks.
Vil doesn’t know how to react, or what to say. What can he say, anyway? That he has seen humans before, and he had heard the word a lot before? Yeah, he would rather swallow a pufferfish than tell his entire backstory to this man in particular.
“Nothing. Just.” He shakes his head. “Yeah. I’ve read the word in… sunken ships before. I didn’t know it had a meaning.” It’s not a lie, but also, it’s not even half the truth.
He really needs to be careful about that hearing of his kidnapper, he decides.
He clears his throat. “Anyway. Are you going to do something about this guy, or…?” He gestures downwards. Leona flinches.
“…Yeah. Fuck.”
Sometimes it’s actually just very convenient to address the elephant in the room that is actually a bleeding out corpse on the ground. It makes for a good distraction.
Vil looks after Leona when he carries the dead body out of his cabin, face still resting on his palm.
Leona. Ah.
He smiles.
Leona.
The crew is already halfway done with cleaning when Leona emerges from his room once more. The remains of their attackers are being hurled overboard and a bunch of his men have already begun wiping away the blood that would inevitably stain the wood if left for too long.
He follows suit, throwing the dead body in his arm over the railing accompanied by the gun. He doesn’t want those cursed things anywhere near his ship if he can help it. He winces one last time when he sees the comb still stuck in the man’s neck. That must’ve been painful.
In the distance, he can see the other ship going up in flames; he’d seen a few chests and some food in the middle of the deck, but it’s not really worth any hype. They probably weren’t off too well, judging from the loot.
It’s Ruggie who joins him once more, both of them leaning onto the railing and looking across the restless sea. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the other is holding something.
“So? How’s he doing?”
Leona gives him a side-eye, raising an eyebrow. “What, you care about him?”
“Of course I do.” Ruggie grins. “I mean, he’s our ticket to freedom and a whole lot of money.”
Ah, right. Now Leona himself can’t suppress the wide smile forming on his lips.
He hums. “He’s good. He doesn’t look damaged.”
“Damaged you say. You’re really not a nice guy, you know?” Ruggie eyes him with modest amusement. He shrugs in return.
“Have I ever been?” He replies.
Ruggie snickers and raises the thing in his hand; presenting the medical kit, Leona is quite glad he has such a diligent albeit snarky vice-captain.
They sit down and Ruggie starts tending to his – luckily not broken, as the other lets him know – nose, putting on tape to keep it from swelling up too bad. Leona groans some more. Trust him to not be gentle at all.
“You’re not cute at all, Ruggie,” he says jokingly and the other snickers. “Can’t you be more careful? My poor, poor nose.”
“Why should I be careful with trash?” He laughs some more and earns a jab in the side for it. “Leona!”
“Stop being rude to your captain. I should punish you accordingly, ya know?” The other presses another tape to his nose and he yelps. “Ouch! That’s it, you’re gonna clean my room.”
“You say that as if I don’t always clean your room… For real…” Ruggie’s mumble doesn’t go unnoticed, but Leona decides not to comment on it. It’s all in good humor anyway.
But even humor has some truth in it, and Ruggie damn well knows Leona means it when he says that.
“Done and done,” the other finally concludes and closes the kit once more. He titles this head, then. “So, what’cha talk about with the fish guy?”
“Nothing important, really. Asked me where we’re goin’, told me to bring him back after we showed him to Farena… Ya know, typical stuff.”
“That’s not typical stuff… So, what did’ya say?”
“Of course I promised to bring him home once I showed him off to my dearest brother.”
At first, Ruggie raises his eyebrow in suspicion, but then his eyes widen. “Didn’t you say you never wanted to return to the Shaftlands?”
“Yeah, no, there’s no way in hell I’ll be coming back here.”
“Then…”
“I promised to bring him back when I showed him to Farena. But you know, there’s a lot of people on this ship.”
Ruggie is silent for a moment, then crackles and eventually falls into a fit of laughter. “Oh my god, oh my god Leona. You really are trash.”
Now they’re both laughing, Leona leaning against the wooden railing behind, and yeah, he really is trash, no way around it. He’s trying not to think too hard about it, anyway. They’ll drop the merman off and be on their way again, and it’s not like he’ll hear that obnoxious merman’s complaining ever again, so it shouldn’t concern him.
And of course it doesn’t. Why would it?
It’s not like he’d be breaking his promise, right?
The following days, Vil manages to set a few things into motion, and at first, he’s quite glad for it, but he really starts becoming suspicious when Leona goes along with way too many of his requests.
Is it the gratitude over having been saved?
Vil can’t shake off the feeling that it’s not only that. But for now, he won’t complain; as long as his wishes are fulfilled, he has no reason to be up in arms anyway.
And so, he has convinced the owner of this ship to have the water in his barrel changed daily, has received a variety of combs and mirrors that, according to Leona, were found somewhere along loot of the past that he was gonna sell, but until then, Vil is allowed to ‘play’ with them, as he had worded it.
They even set up a table next to his tiny prison where he can store everything, from his mirror to the combs to a jug of water. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. He can work his way up from here, he thinks, and will make do with what he has for the time being.
Unfortunately, Leona still refuses to return his jewelry to him. While at least none of his friends back at home will see him in such state, it still does bother him to not feel the weight of his earrings, necklaces, bracelets; he feels just a bit exposed, which also might be due to the fact that all these humans seem to prefer being covered unlike him.
On day three, Vil finally manages to convince the captain that they will set up something for him outside as well. He feels too cramped in this room, he needs fresh air, and despite the tiny man having cleaned a few days prior, everything still feels like it’s in disarray. It stresses Vil just looking at it.
But also, he thinks being allowed outside as well now – under supervision of course – is also due to the fact that he is incredibly good at riling Leona up, and Leona wants some time-out from bickering.
So all in all, his plan had worked just marvelously.
There’s an additional, very nice side effect to being able to sit on the deck: The other men take notice of him as well.
And what can he say? Humans are just so… easy.
A snap with his fingers, and a few are already lining up to read his every wish from his lips. Of course Vil does his very best to keep them interested enough to keep providing him with snacks, shade, and sometimes even fan him some cool air, but also keep them enough at a distance so none would get too bold and think they have an actual chance with him.
He can do without being touched by dirty human hands, thank you very much.
Interestingly enough, however, he realizes that some of the men become even more eager when he insults them; he’d call them squid faces, sea urchins, sea snails, and they’d brag about it to their friends. One time he even slaps one who tries to touch his hair and the man boasts to the others with the handprint on his cheek.
Vil is quite glad that amongst them, Jack is a relatively normal person. Sometimes the crew would fight over who gets to carry him inside, as if there was any room for discussion to begin with. Jack it is, and Jack it will be. He’s the only one Vil doesn’t mind, in fact when he’s being carried, he has to admit he likes the visual appeal of it.
But that’s also how far it goes. While he greatly enjoys the company the wolf-boy keeps him, and he really doesn’t hate his appearance at all, it’s just… that.
Jack is just so young and naïve and ah, he’s so innocent.
Vil can’t put his finger on it really. It’s like he’s a little brother, but also not. He doesn’t get the fuss those men are making over it, it’s not like he’ll ravage an almost nineteen-year-old in the middle of the day, or anyone else on this ship as a matter of fact. But it doesn’t seem to matter to anyone but him, because they will still fight over the non-existent affection.
Sometimes, late at night when he’d be still out and looking at the stars, Jack would join him for a talk. It’s refreshing, because he’s calm and sometimes acts all bashful, and Vil has found out and learned a lot of things about humans thanks to him. And also that the lights in the sky are called stars. He likes that.
He now knows what a wolf is – it’s not a descendant of seawolves, he learns – and why he has those ears. It’s the same reason he’s born with a fish tail, so the concept isn’t too strange to him. He also learns that Jack has joined the crew to bring back treasure to his family. He has two siblings, apparently, a younger brother and a younger sister, and he wants them to live well. Vil finds it very admirable that he’d put up with someone like Leona for his family.
He also finds out that Jack met Epel by accident when looking for a swarm of fishes for dinner, at night for some reason, and they ended up talking for most of it. When he thinks back, he also remembers that one night where the whole palace was in uproar over the missing prince, just for him to return in the morning with the widest smile. He can only shake his head at that idiot.
Apparently, Jack didn’t know that merfolk weren’t supposed to be close to the surface; he just thought that Epel was nice to talk to and so he did, and honestly, Vil cannot fault him for it. He’s nothing but an innocent teenager who got dragged into the series of Runaway Prince Epel, Episode nine-hundred-fifty-one.
“Why is it illegal for you to come to the surface?” Jack would ask one night and Vil could only shrug.
“I don’t know, actually,” he’d admit. “It’s just what it is. Maybe so we wouldn’t get kidnapped?” He’d laugh and Jack’s ears would turn down. The poor boy.
Other than that, Vil enjoys the freedom he’s given; it’s not what he wants exactly, because he still wants to go home, but rather than struggling and fighting, he faces reality head-on and thinks that maybe, he can treat this like some kind of vacation with the excuse of being kidnapped.
He doesn’t even remember the last time he hasn’t had to babysit a certain prince who seems just too keen on ruining his plans in the most creative ways possible each and every time. A gala in the evening? Trust Epel to run off and take part in illegal seahorse races. Going to an audition for a musical he wanted to take part in? Nope, he has to drag a certain lilac-haired boy from shark-infested waters back home just to get scolded by the king for letting his son escape in the first place.
It’s what he was raised to do, and he appreciates the king for all he has done for Vil, but it just seems excessive to keep watch on an eighteen-year-old around the clock. It’s honestly so bad that there had been times where Vil had been tempted to lock Epel in his room and tie him to his bed just so he couldn’t cause any mischief.
“Don’t be like that, Roi du Poison. He’s just a rebellious boy growing up. Be patient with him and he’ll grow into a fine man.”
Ah. But he misses Rook already. The man’s antics are questionable at best, but he’s the only one who really understands Vil. He misses their late-night swims, their talks, how Rook would help him pick the perfect jewelry for the occasion, do his hair. If Epel was like his annoying younger sibling that loved to cause chaos and never get scolded for it, Rook definitely would be cut to be the big brother that is low-key the family disappointment while being the most achieved one of the trio.
Vil realizes he misses them both, terribly so.
It’s not always easy and he and Epel would banter a lot, but he can’t deny how it stings his heart to not have seen the boy’s smile in over a week now. Or was it two? The days seem to fade into another, and he’s not quite sure anymore how long he’s been caged up in a god damn barrel.
They’ve already traveled so far that he could not possibly find his way back to the kingdom of Pyroxene on his own. He misses the way the stones surrounding their city would reflect any light, he misses discovering pretty rocks and unpolished gems. He yearns for the sea.
And yet…
Whenever he’d see an island in the distance, his heart would thump in excitement.
When his hair whips back and forth in the wind, when they’re sailing fast, when the clouds pass, there’s something inside him that itches to go further, further, further, to see new worlds he possibly couldn’t imagine.
He wants to be home and yet seeing all these things captivates him to a degree he would have never expected. He’s torn, needing to return, but wanting to go far. The distance is calling him.
But it’s just a dream.
The worst part is, Vil knows it won’t last. No matter what he will see, it will be once and never again, and it makes him sad in ways he never thought he’d feel; how can he return to normality when he knows there’s so much out there?
One night he sits on the deck; the crew has already gone to sleep, and it’s Jack who keeps him company once more. They sit in silence and watch the night. Look at the full moon, observe the stars.
“Do you miss home?” he asks. The wagging of Jack’s tail is enough of an answer already.
Yet he says, “I do.” Of course he does.
Vil smiles to himself as he looks up. The gentle, cool breeze of the night has urged the wolf to wear a thicker jacket, but the merman himself enjoys the temperature.
There’s a star shooting across the sky.
“Oh. Did you see that?” He asks.
“Yes. It’s called a shooting star, you can wish for something when you see it,” Jack explains.
Vil nods. “Then-”
“You can’t say it out loud,” the other interrupts him. “If you do, it won’t come true.”
He nods once more, understanding.
There’s silence, only them and the wind and the sound of waves gently caressing the wood of the ship.
Jack breaks it, then, cautiously.
“Did you wish to go home?”
But he shakes his head. It’s not what he wishes for most, so he needs to make good use of the one he has.
He doesn’t say it out loud. He needs this wish to come true.
I want to see you again.
The wind has been quite strong lately. Leona is quite happy with this turn of events; the faster they get to Sunset Savannah, the quicker he can leave again.
But not everything is gold that sparkles, and while it carries them far, it also carries them a direction he hadn’t particularly planned on. It’s a little bit of a detour, but he can make do with it. It’s only a slight dent in his otherwise perfect plan.
Yet of course, a certain merman notices that he’s been studying the maps closer than before, and can’t not comment. It’d be too easy to just not, right?
“Do you even know where we are right now?” Vil says, arms crossed on the rim of the barrel, curiously looking over to his desk. He looks like he’s trying to figure out the map, but Leona is sure he doesn’t understand anything about it.
“Of course I do. Just shut up, okay? I’m concentrating.” He groans, looking back and forth between compass and diptych dial. His desk has the perfect spot in the room that sun falls on it naturally, but how can he even begin to figure stuff out when his thoughts are always interrupted?
He’s in his room navigating for a reason, the reason being peace and quiet.
But oh no, not with Vil.
“So you are lost.” His tone is too mocking for Leona’s liking.
“I’m not. God, just. Be quiet.”
His ears twitch in irritation, especially when the other chuckles. “I thought you fancied yourself a commander. Shouldn’t you know where we are?”
“It’s not that fucking easy when on the sea.”
“Aw. I feel so very bad for you now.” Leona hates how the one thing this man has learned, it’s how to verbalize sarcasm. “It’s very easy to tell underwater. If you just let me-”
“Swim away? Yeah, big chance.” Vil pouts momentarily at being interrupted, but the glint in his eyes tell him that he is quite enjoying riling him up. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to escape.”
“Who knows? If I don’t try, I won’t succeed. Even a 0.001 percent possibility has more chances of succeeding than zero.”
Leona snorts at that. “What, are you trying to be a life coach now?”
“No, it’s just my way of living,” the other retorts, making him frown in turn.
“Why? It’s way too bothersome. In the long run, you’ll burn out. It’s too frustrating to be turned down every time.”
“You say that,” Vil’s voice turns serious, it makes Leona listen up. “But, aren’t you trying, too?”
“What do you mean?”
“No matter how small the effort, you still lead this crew. Aren’t you trying to be a good captain to them, too?” It makes Leona pause in what he’s doing, still staring at the map in front of himself. He can’t bear to look at those amethyst eyes now. “Aren’t you trying to fulfill your promise as well? You had the most unlikely chance of finding a mermaid to present it to that person, and yet you did. Even if your chances of finding me were one in a billion, you still did it, and now your chance of succeeding has gone up by a million times.”
But you’re not-
He stops that thought and tries to dismiss it in an instant. No, he can’t think of that right now. But the more he tries to not think about it, the more he does, and eventually he just lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face.
“Fuck off, I don’t need this right now.” You’re not the one I wanted to find. “Some things are, and will always be, zero. No matter how hard you try.”
He gets up from his seat, doesn’t want to listen to the stupid rambling of a fish of all things. Only barely he misses the frown on the merman’s face, but decides not to comment on it or engage further in this conversation.
Fresh air is what he needs, not someone who will never understand his pains. How can someone so good-looking and carefree even remotely understand what he went through, anyway?
He doesn’t know what it’s like, being the second born to a royal family.
He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose someone and knowing you’ll never see them again.
He doesn’t know shit, and it frustrates Leona.
How can he act so high and mighty when his biggest problems probably used to be what to get for dinner, or what woman or man to take home? Seriously. As if merfolk know the struggles of politics.
Leona hates people who get handed everything to their ass and think they have it oh so very bad.
The sun hits his face and he’s blinded for a second but adjusts quickly, blinking the dots away from his vision. The breeze is quite nice, he has to admit. Seeing Ruggie’s face is also a welcome distraction from the conversation just now, he doesn’t want to think about that nonsense.
“Boss,” the other greets, approaches him. Seems like he wanted to come to him anyway, huh? Leona nods in turn. “Look what came.”
There’s a falcon on Ruggie’s arm while he’s holding a paper in his other hand, handing it over to the captain without hesitation. He takes it, reads it, and instantly wants to go back to his room, just that now, he’s stuck between this and that and he hates it both.
“The fuck?”
Ruggie snickers in amusement. “Knew you’d say that.”
He can’t fucking believe it. He can’t-
“Are we really that close?”
Ruggie nods. Damn. He really was lost, Vil was right, and he’s more pissed than before. But whatever. He reads over the letter and laments once more.
Of course it’s from none other than Kalim himself. Yeah, now that he looks around, he can vaguely make out the shore in the distance that is telltale for his… let’s say, summer vacation home. While Kalim’s family lives in the Lands of Scalding Sands, the boy himself had decided a few years back to just… take over and rule his own city, apparently.
Man, sure must be nice to be a rich fucking brat.
Also, Leona tries to desperately ignore the fact that he, himself, used to be a rich fucking brat, and if he hadn’t fought with his stupid brother, he’d still be.
“It’s an invitation,” Ruggie says out loud as if Leona hadn’t read it himself just seconds earlier. “But ya know, I think we should go.”
The younger gestures around at the crew. Some are lazily sleeping on deck, some are doing a half-assed job at cleaning, one outright just picks some boogers and snips them off into the sea.
Naturally, Leona had noticed as well that everyone was on edge – how could he not, seeing how his men literally flocked to Vil like flies to shit? – but to accept an invitation from Kalim always is a whole other dimension of ‘bothersome’ that he doesn’t exactly feel like tapping into.
But Ruggie is damn right. For a lack of better words, the merman had slowly turned his men into his love slaves. Guess that’s the power of having a pretty face, huh? At this point, Leona is convinced he accidentally recruited a bunch of masochists that would literally pay for Vil to step on them, had he legs to step with.
From the way they’d excitedly yell about their upgrades in insults, to being treated like air and getting all feral over it, Leona knows they need a distraction.
Suddenly, Scarabia doesn’t sound all too bad anymore.
“Fine. Whatever.” He shrugs. “Send him a message that we’ll be coming over. It’ll take a day until we reach the city.”
Ruggie nods.
“Aye, aye, captain.”
“I’ll be busy, then.”
“Of course you are, Leona.”
Leona doesn’t return to his cabin until way later that night; Vil hasn’t asked to be brought outside either, and he enjoys time away from him. He even manages to squeeze in a nap into his very (not so) busy day, and it’s already dark when he wakes up again.
The falcon is long gone and Ruggie is back on his post to observe the seas; he’d rather be caught dead than admitting it out loud, but he’s thankful to have such a diligent vice-captain on board. Probably one of the better decisions in his life, to not kill the little scoundrel and instead make him one of his own.
“But, aren’t you trying, too?”
The words still echo in his head.
Tch, what does that fish know about him? He’s given up trying long ago. Everyone’s fate is sealed, set in stone, there’s nothing anyone can change about the fact. Some things happen for a reason, and even if Leona doesn’t know the reason, he’s simply come to accept it.
There’s no use struggling against fate. All it does is bring pain, and Leona would rather do without.
“Aren’t you trying?”
No, he’s not. Not anymore. He can’t even remember how long ago it was that he stopped his original plan, why he became a pirate in the first place.
He remembers it vividly, how he and his brother had fought; how Farena had yelled at him, told him to stop dreaming and face reality. “Grow up, Leona! You can’t keep chasing dreams. I need you here, and I need you to support the kingdom!”
Back then, he had been foolish. He didn’t want to accept that it all had been just a dream. He wanted to go back, and could hear the sea calling for him; but reality is ruthless, and it all ended in a big mess.
A ship stolen, and he remembers Farena standing at the pier, screaming after him to come back. Screaming that if he left now, he’d have no place to call home anymore. He’d be an outlaw, an exile, and that he’d never be a prince again.
“I swear, I’ll show you a mermaid,” he remembers his answer. “When I do, you’ll apologize to me.”
Farena hadn’t replied back then. He hasn’t seen him since.
A memory of the past. His face is fading, slowly, and Leona wonders what his brother had grown into. What his nephew had grown into, too.
He should be around fifteen now.
Leona’s feet drag him back to his room. The candles are stuffed out and Vil seems to already be curled up in his barrel and sleeping. A quick glance into the water confirms it, and Leona decides that it’s not worth staying up any later than necessary either. He’s lucky he can sleep easily, otherwise he’d be fucked when coming from a nap just to go right back to bed.
He doesn’t want to think any more about his family – if he’s still allowed to call them that – but then again, he doesn’t want to think about anything at all right now. All he wants is to finally be free from his past.
But he also knows he’s been cursed from the moment he was born, and he’s not sure anymore if he can ever escape.
His sleep is entirely too restless and he doesn’t feel the slightest bit refreshed when he wakes up way too god damn early in the morning.
His eye falls on the merman who is awake already; he always is around this time, Leona has come to notice. Sometimes when Leona would wake up at an ungodly hour like this, he’d see the other push himself up on the barrel and let himself down into the water, rinse and repeat. The first time he witnessed it he had thought the other tried to escape, but it’s just exercise. It shows in his arms, too. When Leona had thought they were just skinny, scrawny at first, he quickly came to realize they are, in fact, rather lean and muscular. Vil definitely has the arms of a swimmer.
Another thing he realized was how particular the merman was about his looks and aesthetic. Every day he’d take extensive care of his appearance; another hairstyle each time, and not a single strand would be out of place. Once he was done, he’d sort the combs he had by size, color and pattern on his table.
And even with the color on his lips long gone and the darkness around his eyes and on his lashes faded, he’d still look stunning every time. If only he didn’t have such a bad personality, Leona would think he’s quite appealing. He opts to not comment on it, lest the man would get way over his head.
Instead, he silently watches. Long fingers, elegantly placing each strand where it belongs, holding the comb in a way Leona didn’t even know one could be looking so gracious doing their hair, and he thinks he likes mornings like these when the sun illuminates the blonde in a way it makes it look almost golden, purple shimmering under the rays.
And Vil is just quiet. That’s the best part about it.
He rolls over and decides he’s seen enough; he desperately wants to catch some Z’s before having to deal with Kalim and – even worse – Jamil. While he doesn’t mind either of them too terribly much, they still are a strange duo that he also could do well without. It is as they say: A hedge between keeps friendship green, and distance makes the heart grow fond.
And for a moment, he really considers just not going. Telling them he’s unwell and he’d rather stay on his ship – his men can do whatever they want, he doesn’t care – but he also knows that Kalim would get a whole ass caravan to get him transported to his fucking palace to get him ‘treated’.
Who even builds a palace in the middle of nowhere?
There’s a knock on the door; even without his permission, someone steps inside moments later, and he turns around again because he knows those steps and he knows he can’t ignore that person either.
“I’m sleeping.” He yawns, just to emphasize his point.
“You’re awake?” Vil’s voice sounds surprised and Leona realizes his cover has been blown. Oh well.
“Nah, am not. I just said I’m sleeping, didn’t I?” He can’t hide the sarcasm, but still sits up and rubs the sleep from his face. “What’cha want, Ruggie?”
Ruggie laughs in turn. “We’re close to the harbor already. Ya should get dressed.”
“Harbor?” Vil chimes in again, and the vice-captain nods.
“We’re going on land. Already saw Kalim’s men waiting at the piers through the telescope, and ya know damn well if Kalim is there as well, he’ll rush in here without any hesitation if you’re not ready when we reach them, Leona.”
Oh, yeah. The times Kalim has woken him up whenever they visited Scarabia, and inevitably caught him butt-naked, one hand isn’t enough to count them. He’s dressed right now, didn’t bother to get undressed last night, but also, he looks like a slob.
Ever since he’s acquired a ‘roommate’, Leona has gotten into the habit of not sleeping naked anymore; it just felt wrong to do so when there’s a potentially lethal fish staring at him. Even changing feels kind of awkward in front of that guy, so he ended up doing that behind closed curtains. If he didn’t know any better, it almost seems like Vil is disappointed about that fact, but if he is, he doesn’t vocalize it at all.
Ruggie is already throwing clothes to wear at him and Leona just watches in silence, still feeling sluggish. It’s his good clothing, he realizes, and he wonders why even bother when by the end of the night, they’ll probably be so drunk that no one cares anymore.
But whatever, he’s not in a position to complain about it. Whether he wears this or that, at the end of the day there’s no difference. Clothing is clothing.
His gaze falls onto the merman who now dreamingly looks out of the window; Scarabia is in plain sight, and Leona wonders if he’s ever seen a human city before, but he figures not in the way the man tries to take in everything he can, even from a distance.
His naked ass wouldn’t be the only problem if Kalim decided to rush in here, actually.
“I trust you’ll behave yourself when we’re gone?” He pointedly asks in Vil’s direction who looks back at him, amethyst eyes staring at him questioning.
“You’re not going to bring me along?” The other replies, and Leona shakes his head.
“Why would I? What, did you really want to go, too?”
Vil frowns. “No, of course not. There’s way too many humans there, but I thought-”
“That’s not your strength,” he interjects, smirks, “leave the thinking for those who are actually good at it.”
There’s an audible gasp, and from the corner of his eye he can see Ruggie pressing his lips into a thin line, looking absolutely amused at Vil’s expression as well.
“You…! Augh, fine! Leave me here.” The merman’s voice is snarky; Ruggie is close to losing his shit and laughing himself to death. He’s hanging by a threat.
Almost innocently, Leona titles his head, voice laced in false curiosity when he speaks, “Ah, maybe it’s not such a good idea to leave you here after all. You’re going to run away, won’t you?”
“Of course I won’t.” The sarcasm is almost overwhelming.
“Ah-ah-ah, you shouldn’t lie, sunshine.” But two can play this game.
“Why would I? I’m not lying- I’m just saying, if you took me to the city, there’s no way I can escape, right?”
Hook, line and sinker.
“Alright, I’ll take you along.”
Vil is just too easy to manipulate.
Leona is just too easy to manipulate.
To think he’d agree to take him into the human city, Vil didn’t think it’d be that simple, but apparently thinking isn’t the other man’s greatest strength despite what he says. All he had to do was act a little coy and the other would agree so willingly it’s almost ridiculous.
They’re getting closer to the city, and Vil does his best to hide the excitement. This is just a whole different scale to what he’s seen in the past, small fishing villages and the likes. To think he’d get this chance in his lifetime to see how humans lived up so close, he couldn’t say he wasn’t interested.
“Well, let’s think of a disguise, then,” he hears Leona say and turns to him once more. He’s been looking out of the window for so long, he hasn’t even noticed how the other already changed. Damn.
As with all beautiful things, Vil can’t deny that he’d love to see the other’s body, at least once. He’s so used to merfolk going without covering themselves that the captain constantly wearing something has a certain charm he’s never known before. It’s almost like uncovering a treasure; you don’t know what’s inside, so the excitement over finding out is just higher.
There’s something entirely too alluring over unveiling things that are hidden.
But there is no way he will let the other know, lest he’d take it to heart and think it’s because Vil likes him. Yikes, no way. It’s just, Vil can appreciate beauty, and from what he’s seen, his build would be something that falls right into his preferred aesthetic.
For now, he can only dream of it.
He shakes off these thoughts immediately; instead, he curiously looks at both other men who seem to be in thought. The small man whom Vil presumes is Ruggie talks first.
“We could put him in a dress,” he says and Leona’s ears immediately shoot up. “If the dress is long enough, it’ll hide his tail.”
Leona seems to agree. “You know what? That’s actually a good idea. Aren’t there some in the loot under deck?”
Ruggie nods. “I’ll go get them.”
Vil can only watch in bewilderment as the younger one leaves fast. He has no idea what a ‘dress’ is, but the plan sounds stable enough – no wonder, since it’s Ruggie who came up with it, not Leona – but he still hopes it’s at least presentable, there’s no way he will be forced into some kind of box or pot as a cover.
It doesn’t take long, and that man returns with a bunch more clothing items on his arms; he’s almost entirely covered by the pile and it looks almost adorable how barely the top of his head and ears are visible. Vil chuckles at the sight.
“These are all we got,” he says and spreads them out, one by one, and Vil realizes they are vastly different from both what those men are wearing, and what he had expected.
They’re… beautiful.
There’s one in a deep blue shade, adorned with gold and red, and he immediately feels drawn to it; some of the fabric is see-through, flowy, it reminds him of his own fins.
But also, there’s a white one that looks too big for any occasion and yet just right; the details are stunning, pearls sewn onto, it also has this see-through fabric. He likes the floral pattern on it, too.
“I want the white one,” he finally says, ignoring the other three dresses that are dyed in various shades of beige. They won’t do well with his skin tone, he fears. But it’s fine, he made his decision already anyway.
Or, so he thinks. Because Leona crosses his arms, makes a face and his tone is firm when he says, “No.”
“Why not?”
Ruggie is laughing now, and Vil isn’t sure if he’s not in on some kind of joke?
“Really, why not, Leona? You could even say he’s your bride- Ouch!”
He’s not sure whether Ruggie deserved being hit by Leona or not, but Leona looks flustered nevertheless and Vil appreciates the sacrifice the smaller man has made, for the blush is quite charming to look at. Still, the word ‘bride’ makes him perk up.
“I don’t get it?”
“It’s,” Leona clears his throat, “It’s a wedding dress. You can’t wear that. Hell, Ruggie, why did ya even bring that garbage up here?”
His eyes widen at the realization, the word wedding definitely rings a bell in his head – an alarm bell, that is – and now Vil is the flustered one, coughing awkwardly.
“Yeah, I agree. I cannot wear that.”
The younger’s spirits don’t seem to be broken. He chuckles.
“To think I’d witness the day you two agree on something. You two really do get along well, don’t ya?”
It doesn’t help when they both unison reply, “We don’t!”
Ruggie, by now, is bent over from laughter, holding onto dear life at the desk; Leona scratches the back of his head and looks away, and Vil, too, avoids making any sort of eye-contact with either of them. Talk about awkward.
Again, Leona clears his throat roughly. “Well, we don’t have much time. You’ll take the blue one, no room for discussion.” Not that Vil would’ve complained, that was his second choice, but it irks him that he has to go with Leona’s choice.
“Either way.” Ruggie finally seems to have gotten a hold of himself again, still breathing heavily. “Ya better hurry, because we’re almost there.” He points towards the window and Leona jumps in surprise.
“Fuck.” Yeah, they’re definitely only minutes away from docking. “ Fuck. Ruggie, keep them busy.”
The smaller man nods and leaves instantly; there’s a moment of awkward silence between them now that they’re alone, and Leona seems to try to figure something out.
Not that Vil has any time to decipher what he’s thinking because the very next moment, he’s already being pulled out of his water and roughly shoved onto the large chair in the middle of the room. It all happens so fast he can barely get a hold of himself, and before he knows it, Leona is already patting him dry with one of his stinky towels. Vil winces, but doesn’t resist.
It’s a struggle, however, to put on the dress.
“You-” he can’t even complain properly because the other is just so rough then he pulls the fabric over his head, “Can you be a little more gentle? That- hey! Ouch!”
How does he deserve being manhandled this much? Whenever Jack takes him out of the barrel, he’s so nice and careful, and Leona doesn’t even remotely seem to care that his hair gets stuck on the dress at all!
“Shut up, we gotta hurry,” and Leona just continues to put him into this piece of clothing like his life depends on it. And who knows, maybe it does, Vil does not know whether it’s illegal to bring mermaids to cities or not.
It feels absolutely alien when his shoulders are covered and the fabric presses the fin on his back against his body; at first it’s entirely unwelcome, but he adjusts quickly, and he finds he rather likes the feeling of the high neck. It reminds him of when he was still able to wear golden and silver chokers, before Leona had stolen them from him.
The dress is a little rough against his skin and he feels uncomfortably dry, but other than that, it’s not as bad as he had imagined human clothing to be like. In fact, he can even still freely move his tail under the wide whatever-it’s-called and his fins blend with the see-through fabric to a point he probably wouldn’t be able to tell it’s his caudal fin if he didn’t know it was.
“Breathe out.” Vil is too preoccupied with swishing his tail, so when Leona orders him to exhale, it takes a moment for him to understand what’s being said.
However, he doesn’t get enough time to adequately react.
“Wha- Ah~!”
--- oh god. Oh god. That… was probably the most embarrassing sound that has ever come out of his mouth. A gasp – more like a moan – and he feels his own face heat up unbearably hot, because he knows that Leona heard it, and he knows that Leona knows that he knows-
“Wow, I usually only hear that when I undress people. That’s a first.”
“What are you doing?!” He doesn’t even want to react to what the other indicates, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction – he actually would much rather know why the hell he suddenly pulled on him and literally squeezed the air out of his lungs like an octopus?!
The other seems to have way too much fun torturing him like some sick sadist, smirks, opens his mouth but stops before speaking; his ears perk up and his eye darts to the door, and his face instantly turns somber. Vil notices the ship stopped moving, and also that there’s footsteps approaching.
“They’re here.” The sudden seriousness takes Vil aback. “Don’t say a word to any of them.”
Again, he has no time to say or do anything; the next thing he knows, he’s already lifted on both Leona’s arms, carrying him like he weighs nothing, walking towards the door that flings open just that moment.
A bunch of men he’s never seen before are blocking their way. They look threatening, their faces covered, and Vil’s first instinct is to wriggle himself out of Leona’s grip. However, he feels the other’s hold on him tighten and when he looks up, he can see that he’s not afraid of them, nor does he seem ready to fight.
His expression is entirely cold and leveled and he simply nudges his head. They all take a step back and make way for them to leave his room.
Vil loosens the grip on the other’s jacket – actually, he hadn’t even realized he had held onto the other this firmly – and observes them all cautiously. He had gotten used to the crew looking at him, but all these strangers eyeing him up and down, left and right, he just feels uncomfortable.
It definitely does not help that he’s on Leona’s arms of all people.
He feels too vulnerable in this situation, and he decides he’d much rather take shark-infested waters over this ordeal any day. The men nod towards the captain who returns it, then calls into the distance,
“Ruggie, lock up.”
“Aye, aye captain.”
From his position he can’t see the other. In fact, he can’t see anyone else besides the strangers surrounding them. He’s not so sure anymore if he had chosen the right path, if he should be here to begin with, but it’s too late now to ask his kidnapper to just lock him in the barrel again. He swallows hard.
Wind whips his hair into his face. His vision is obscured. He hears many voices, they all blur into another. There’s just so many humans, so many, his breathing quickens, he remembers the last time, the loud noise, the blood, the corpse-
“Calm down. They’re allies.”
His thoughts come to a halt.
He looks up. Emerald eye looking down at him. There’s no softness in it, but it’s reassuring nonetheless. He exhales, long, and realizes again that he had gripped the other’s jacket way too hard, crinkling the fabric.
They all begin moving and he starts to feel a little dizzy, but at least they’re not staring at him anymore; it shouldn’t be a big of a deal, he’s used to being gazed upon, but right now, he feels like a little forage fish in the middle of a swarm of predators rather than an actor in a theatre.
And oh, does he hope they won’t find out their scam. He has no idea how they will react and if he will survive, but he does his best to move as little as possible, keeping his tail as still as it can be. Not that he can move his upper body a lot, Leona had tied him into this dress so firmly he still thinks he can’t breathe properly if he bends just at the wrong angle.
His excitement is gone, and he just wants this to be over. He doesn’t remotely enjoy how the wind keeps slapping his hair around and messing it up, and neither does he enjoy being a helpless fish on land.
They leave the pier, move through the city. It’s bustling with life, and any other occasion he’d probably enjoy it to bits, it reminds him of Pyroxene, but surrounded by these men, it’s hard to focus on anything else at all. He can’t stop eying the swords at their hips nervously.
Leona’s voice is but a silent whisper when he speaks up. “You’re an unlucky maiden I saved from pirates. You were born without the ability to walk, and I’m bringing you back home.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s your story. Just go along with it.”
“So you’re going to pretend you’re not the villain in this story?”
Leona shrugs. “It is what it is. Unless you want to stay here forever, it’s the best shot you got.”
It takes a moment for Vil to understand the implication, but it makes sense; if he were to admit he kidnapped Vil, who knows what these men would do. The best-case scenario would be that they punish Leona, find out what he is, and release him into the water. But first of all he doesn’t know the way back, and secondly, he’s not quite sure they’ll let him go that easily to begin with.
He sighs in defeat. “Fine.”
The dark-haired man seems satisfied. Vil doesn’t exactly feel like arguing, especially under his breath so none of the strangers will overhear their conversation.
He’s too dizzy to argue anyway.
The wind is calming down; he barely takes notice of it. All of a sudden, the only thing he can take notice of is the sun. He’s hot. Dots all over his vision, and he can’t tell how far they’ve walked already. A few meters? Halfway to their destination? What is their destination? How much time has passed?
Too tight. His neck itches. Ah. The sun is so hot.
Why is there no more wind?
His skin feels moist again, in an uncomfortable kind of way. Why is it so hot? He starts to feel sticky all over. Swallowing. The rhythmic bumping of their movement makes his head hurt.
It’s spinning. He’s confused, what’s going on? He can hear people talk, unfamiliar voices. He feels sick, but is it due to the clothing restraining his body? He licks his lips, tries to wet them. His mouth feels dry.
Is it getting hotter?
He’s lightheaded. He doesn’t know the feeling, so he closes his eyes, rests his head against the other’s chest. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t, he can’t swallow anymore. He wants to hold onto the other’s jacket, but he feels weak. His fingers shake when he gingerly touches him.
“Leona…” His voice feels raspy.
“Wђคt? ץ๏u falɭɭเภg เภ ɭ๏ve wiՇђ me?”
A laugh. He looks up. Tries to make out the other’s face, but it’s too obscure to recognize. Blurry.
“Y̴̯̮͕͇̻̰̘̎̐̐̕ô̴̧͖͍̠͇͉̜͇͆͑̚u̴͎̔̋̐̓̄̈̂̆͐'̵̡̥̙͙͋̍̌̆̂̈́̅̕͜r̸͍̬̩̤͉̤̫͓͑̓ͅḛ̶̛͒̆̊͝ͅ ̶͕̬̘̈͊͆̀́à̴̖̤̂̉̀̀̇͘̚̚͝ľ̴̖̇̿͐͝l̸̪̤̙̹̬̄̅̿̒̈̔̏̎͐͘ͅ ̵̨̛͕̻̲̭͈̘͗̈͝ͅr̷͔̹̙̖̒̊̕e̶̦͎̣̳̓͆͌̈́̕͝͝d̷̻̠̫̝̹͑͂͗͋͋̊̋̌”
His voice makes no sense. It uncomfortably echoes in his head, too. It sounds a little worried, suddenly.
He shivers. Pulse so loud it overshadows the city noises.
“I’m hot-”
Pathetic.
He only barely registers his name being called.
Then
Nothing.
He gasps audibly when he comes back to his senses. The ground beneath him feels cool to the touch and he can faintly make out something wet on his forehead. There’s a gentle breeze, too.
The headache is slowly fading, feeling returning to his fingertips; his vision is still blurry, but he can blink it away after a few moments.
Has he passed out?
There are voices in the background. They’re arguing but talking so fast Vil can’t make out the words. He doesn’t care either way, he’s just glad he’s alive, actually.
“Vil, you’re awake.” The voice is familiar. He blinks a few more times and it’s Jack, sitting by his side on the floor. He takes the wet cloth from his forehead, puts it in a basin, rinses it, and places it back on. It’s rather cold, but it feels so very nice to the touch.
He sighs.
“Jack,” he acknowledges, his voice still feels rough. “Where are we?”
“In Kalim’s palace.” Who? Kalim? Who’s that?
He squeezes his eyes shut, rubs his face. Ah, right, some guy or another that owns this city or something. He faintly remembers the conversation earlier, but his memory is still a giant mess. He’s never experienced anything like this before and he can’t say he’s fine, but he’s better and that’s what counts.
He wants to take a look around. There’s something entirely too unsettling about being somewhere he doesn’t know, but when he tries to sit up, he can hear a voice echo through the grand halls.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He doesn’t know that one. Who is it? Footsteps, and he figures the man who just spoke approaches them. “You just passed out from heat exhaustion. You should rest.”
All Vil can do is groan and listen to him. He’s still too weak to get up on his own anyway.
“Ah! You’re awake!” A much chipper voice chimes in, footsteps much louder than the ones before. He’s running. “Vil! Viiiiil!” He sounds so whiny and Vil hates it.
“Don’t act so familiar with him. You don’t even know him, Kalim.”
God, he just wants to rest. Can everyone shut up?
“But Jamil! He’s awake again! Oh Vil, I was so worried!”
Why does he have to be so loud?
“Jamil’s right. Let the man rest, and stop crying his name. It’s pathetic.” Oh. Leona. That voice he can recognize anywhere.
“You’re the pathetic one,” the first voice speaks up again. “Are you stupid?” God, Vil so desperately wants to say yes to that.
“We’ve been over that.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact you’re an idiot.”
“Jamil!”
“No, he needs to hear that. Who even brings a merman into such a hot climate? Scarabia no less? You know the guys outside aren’t as nice as Kalim. If anyone else found out-”
“But they didn’t.”
“That’s not the point, Leona.”
Whoever this Jamil person is, Vil already is on his side a hundred percent. While he desperately wishes they’d just shut up, he also can’t say he hates hearing someone give that man shit.
“It’s all good though, isn’t it?” the second person – probably Kalim? – says. “He’s awake again, he’ll be fine thanks to Jamil!”
Leona clicks his tongue and Vil can already vividly imagine his expression. He’s probably annoyed, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet to confirm his suspicion.
“Please, just- Shut up. Please?” He barely manages to squeeze the words out; a moment later, he realizes his body isn’t constricted anymore and breathing feels much nicer so he inhales deeply. Jack rinses the cloth on his head and he slowly starts to feel alive again.
Luckily, all of them fall into silence. Ah. That’s better. He rubs his face once more; squeezes his eyes shut before opening them, looking up and viewing the large ceiling in the distance. Patterns dancing across the stone, and it reminds him of the palace back at home.
The peace doesn’t last for long, however, and suddenly a stranger pops into his vision, looking down at him with large, red eyes, curiously eyeing him, yet with the widest smile on his lips. The positive energy he immediately radiates is overwhelming when Vil is barely conscious enough to talk.
“I’m Kalim! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” He exclaims as if Vil hadn’t just moments ago asked everyone to shut up. “Welcome to my home! You’re safe now! If you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell us!”
Actually, he just told him what he wanted, and yet that white-haired man happily ignores his request blissfully unaware of his own volume, so he can do nothing but wonder if any other requests will also fall on deaf ears.
He still nods slowly in hopes the other will not press him any further, and it seems he luckily does, because he just laughs and grins and disappears from his line of sight again.
“We should have a banquet tonight in honor of our special guest,” he suggests to the others.
Jamil(?) sighs. “Kalim, look at him. Do you really think he’s in any shape to be celebrating?”
A moment of silence, then a surprised gasp, and the boy says in a more thoughtful tone, “You’re right, Jamil. Let’s celebrate tomorrow, then!”
Vil definitely isn’t stoked about that idea in particular. He doesn’t want to celebrate today or tomorrow or any other days, right now all he wants is to be in the water again. His tail still feels dry despite Jack’s efforts to keep him wet. In fact, he can even tell that the dress is drenched in the way it sticks to his body, but it’s not unwelcome. It might be only a little relief, but it’s a relief nonetheless.
Finally, he props himself up on his elbows; four people come into his vision: Jack, Leona, Kalim and Jamil. Latter supposedly the man with black braids and half his face covered with hair, eyeliner as sharp as his gaze. Both his and Kalim’s clothing look exotic and unlike anything he’s ever seen before, but he quite likes the aesthetic of it. There’s so much gold and jewelry on them it’s bedazzling.
He’s still cautious of them. They might have saved his life according to what he heard before, but one can never be careful enough around humans, Leona has painfully taught him that lesson. And so, he gently pulls on Jack’s sleeve, pulling him closer.
He whispers, “Ask them if they have some water.” His throat still feels too dry to speak up loudly.
Jack nods, understanding, turns to the trio. “Is there any chance you have a pool or something?”
“Of course we do,” Kalim hesitates, “but won’t he drown? He doesn’t look well enough to swim.”
A moment of silence. Two. Everyone looking at him.
“Oh. Ohh. Right. Yes, follow me.”
The wolf-boy picks him up carefully and it’s a welcome change to how rough Leona has been with him; the movement still makes him feel a little dizzy, but he can handle it, the nausea is gone at least and the younger man does his best to keep Vil steady in his arms. He leans his head against his chest, closing his eyes again, inhaling, exhaling, and he has no idea where he’s being taken, but he trusts Jack enough to think it’s a better place than the floor.
It takes a little while – and Vil wonders just how big this place is – but eventually they stop and Jack lowers him again; his caudal fin barely touches the water and his tail twitches already, yearning for more.
Only moments later, and he’s submerged in the cool liquid of the pool.
There’s no way he can even begin to describe the absolute bliss he’s experiencing, the way his whole tail can stretch, how his fins aren’t restricted at all by a barrel, how his whole body fits with ease, submerged without being cramped, and stretching he does, enjoying the cold embrace.
He’s still exhausted, still tired, still light-headed, but this is so much better than anything he’s had the past weeks. Sinking to the bottom, and he thinks that yes, he can make do with his.
He just needs to sleep.
“And, you really thought you’d get away with that?”
He eyes Jamil; his arms are crossed and he definitely doesn’t look amused. The doubtful look on his face makes Leona groan inwardly.
“It could’ve worked if he didn’t pass out.”
Jamil snorts. “Sure it would have. Especially with that story. You? Saving a ‘poor maiden’? It’s the worst joke I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Hey.”
He was pretty proud of the story for the fact he made it up on the spot, okay? Of course it wasn’t even remotely based on reality, and he could have figured that Jamil would see right through the lie, but it was still worth a shot. Besides, no one in the city itself noticed there was something – aka, missing legs – wrong with the merman.
It’s not his fault this snake has, like, the most insane perception.
They both look after Kalim and Jack in silence even long after they’re gone, but he realizes the other has something to say.
“What?” He asks, raising his eyebrow. Jamil raises his hand to his chin, thoughtfully.
“Is he that person?”
The question startles Leona. He doesn’t know how to react, first and foremost because how the hell would Jamil even know about that person’s existence, let alone that they are a mermaid? And yet, he asks this question with such confidence it throws him off his game immediately.
He stares, waits for the other to retract the statement, but his slit pupils are piercing him to an uncomfortable extent.
He sighs. “No.”
“Mhm,” he hums, places his hands on his hips, “So, what’s your plan?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“So you’re gonna dump him in Sunset Savannah?”
“Ho- Can you stop that? It’s creepy.”
He feels like he’s being toyed with. How the heck does this guy know so much when they’ve only arrived like an hour ago?
“You’re too easy to figure out.” He shrugs. “Does he know?”
Leona shakes his head. “Of course not.”
Jamil hums again, considering, thinking. Shakes his head then, too.
“What you’re doing is wrong.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” He frowns.
“I’m just saying, it’ll come back to bite you in the ass.”
“Thanks for the input, Nostradamus.”
What is it with people lately questioning his life choices? The concern is appreciated, but he can very much think for himself, and this seems like a future-Leona problem. He doesn’t have to think about it too hard just now.
He doesn’t feel like continuing this. He’s been scolded, now he’s being questioned, what is this? An interrogation? He’s not a criminal (for the most part), he doesn’t have to justify himself to a serpent.
Fortunately, Kalim and Jack return. There’s worry still written all over their faces.
“Are you sure he won’t drown? He sank to the bottom like a stone!” For someone who has never met the merman before, Kalim sure cares way too much about his well-being. Then again, that’s just who he is.
“He’ll be fine,” he replies nonchalantly, “He’s been living and sleeping in a barrel for weeks now, a pool should be fine.” He can’t see the problem at all.
But Kalim gasps in shock. “No way! A barrel?”
“We should call animal protection services on you,” Jamil says with a smug grin.
“Does something like that even exist?” He wonders.
“It definitely should, looking at you.”
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue and crosses his arms. It’s not that bad, okay? He even thinks he’s spoiling that merman rotten at this point, considering all things. He doesn’t even barely deserve the kindness Leona is showing him, looking at his personality.
Then again, it’s all for the greater good of his plan; simply put, if he makes the merman feel somewhat like he gets what he wants, he’ll be less likely to escape. After all, why escape into the big scary ocean when on his ship, he gets three meals a day, fresh water and a bunch of sparkly crap like combs and mirrors?
Added to his promise, and Leona already has seen a drastic decline in escape attempts from that man.
What an idiot. He thinks he gets what he wants and doesn’t even realize he’s playing right into his cards. It’s way too easy. Not that he’d complain, he’d rather take the easy route than having to wrestle a half-fish every day.
And yet, when they say those things, there’s also this voice in the back of his head that wonders, is this really the right thing to do?
If only he had paid more attention, maybe he could’ve avoided him passing out. Maybe he could’ve gotten him into shade sooner, maybe he could’ve…
Nah. There’s no use thinking about this now; no way in hell will he start caring about that douche’s well-being now of all times.
And yet, what he felt when he saw his face, when he felt the body in his arms go limp, he-
“I’m gonna go take a nap.”
He’s barely been awake for a few hours and he’s already had enough of this day. Running through the city like an idiot to get Vil to the palace, having to (not-)worry about him waking up again, wondering what the hell went on, getting insulted by Jamil, it’s too much for him already.
What a pain in the ass.
Not waiting for anyone’s permission, he already makes his way to the room Kalim has prepared for him, blissfully ignoring the voices behind himself, strolling through long hallways that partly have the most atrocious decorations he’s ever seen. They’re a good landmark to know he’s going the right direction.
Now and then there’s a maid to be greeted, but other than that, the sound of his footsteps on marble are the only thing to accompany him.
He’s not worried about Vil.
Hell, for all he cares, the guy can drown in that pool downstairs – at least he’d think that if there wasn’t this stupid obligation of keeping him alive for long enough so he can show him off. Who even overheats so quickly? It’s barely warm enough to make him sweat, and the guy already faints? Geez, get a grip.
His room is the same as always; he’s been here often enough that Kalim gave him a special room for himself, and aside from being cleaned regularly apparently, everything is still the same as it had been months before. The large bed, a desk, a closet with a variety of clothes that miraculously fit which he attributes to Jamil. He seems like the kind of person to know someone’s size just by looking.
Even the ugly vase in the corner is the same, filled with fresh flowers as if he cared enough about that, but he knows the owner of this place well enough to know he’s just the kind of guy who would go the extra mile to make anyone feel at home, even if it’s just a bunch of stupid sand verbenas.
Jacket thrown carelessly onto the floor, and he makes his way over to them; gingerly touches them, mustering their deep hue of purple, and sighs.
Returns to the bed, then, and he’s asleep within seconds.
Purple.
Ah, it’s so familiar.
He knows he’s seen it before. But is it a coincidence?
The fog in his head seems to lift ever so slightly. Purple. He’s definitely seen it before.
Or is he imagining things?
It’s all but a dream.
Terrible.
He opens his eye. The sun is setting, and he’s alone in his room. There they still are, taunting him, sitting in the corner silently. His body moves as if on autopilot; takes them, then, and walks over to one of the large windows.
His eye follows the flowers as they fall, thrown out carelessly. A few petals swirl in the wind, the updraft making them dance in the air. They almost sparkle in the few last rays the sun has to offer before disappearing behind the horizon.
One by one, the lights in the city appear. He can clearly hear the streets coming to life; if before the city had been bustling with people, now is the time it really livens up. The night is the time for all and everyone to come out – it’s the time gambling starts, drinking is not considered a courtesy but rather an obligation, ladies and gentlemen alike paying for some intimate togetherness for but a few hours.
It’s a distraction he desperately needs, and so he leaves his room, follows the endless hallways back to where he came from earlier. He’s not yet really awake again, sadly awake enough though to not miss Jamil leaning against a pillar in the grand entry hall, arms crossed.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.” He has no obligation to tell that guy anything.
Jamil sighs.
“Make sure to be back in time for tomorrow’s banquet. Kalim’s excited for it.”
Leona looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. “I’ll try my best. Why don’t you go and keep your husband company until then?”
“We’re not-”
“Whatever you say.”
His feet drag him out of the palace and to the city. It almost feels like with every step he takes, more and more people are around him. Now and again, he can see one of his men mingled with the masses, already drinking, some singing, some telling tales with curious listeners; he doesn’t know where he wants to go first, he’ll just go with the flow.
Would Vil enjoy the city when it’s full of life like this?
He quickly shakes off the thought. No, he came here for a distraction, he can’t be seriously thinking about some stupid pet fish when he’s supposed to have fun.
“Ya look troubled, mate,” a man calls out. He doesn’t recognize him, but it doesn’t matter in a place like this. “Care to join us for a round’a Blackjack?”
There’s a total of five women and men at a table including the dealer; a nod, and he sits down with them. There’s already a glass handed to him, and whatever it is, it tastes good. Strong, rich, a distinct burn in the back of his throat. Whiskey, maybe, and it’s probably cheap as hell but he’s not one to complain.
A few wins, more losses; another glass, another, a larger one with ale, and he’s already dragged off to another table. He doesn’t resist. More gold bet, he gains some but realizes his stack is also getting smaller, too. Sometimes he’s lucky, sometimes he isn’t.
There’s a lot of laughter and he joins in, whatever these people are saying, it’s way too funny. Another shot, maybe it’s Gin, he can’t tell at this point, stopped counting the glasses a long time ago. His taste buds feel like they’ve been burned off, and he doesn’t care. He can feel the warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach and it’s a comforting feeling.
Whoever said alcohol wasn’t a solution was a fucking liar.
Seriously, all his troubles seem to have vaporized into thin air. He manages to go most of the night not thinking about a certain someone – or anything at all, for a matter of fact – until he struggles to even sit up straight. Groans, and he’s getting drowsy. He’s getting so tired.
Hands are on him, and he doesn’t mind. She’s tall, nice to look at. Kisses here and there, and another girl joins in. There’s a comment about how unfair it is that he’s stealing all the attention, but he can just laugh at that. Not like he’s particularly trying, he just lets it all happen.
But then he sees brown hair, red lips, gray eyes. No, that’s not right, and he pushes her away – most gently so – and gets up from his seat, struggles more because standing has never been so hard, and he apologizes profusely. Staggers, and when he finally makes his way outside into the fresh air, the alcohol hits him square across the face.
Fuck.
Everything is twisting and turning in front of him and he realizes he’s probably had one or two or three drinks too many. Doesn’t matter though.
A byroad has never looked more appealing than now as a place to sleep.
He stumbles and almost falls, guiding himself along the wall until he’s had enough. Slides down, back propped up against it, and he finds this is probably the most comfortable he’ll be tonight.
He doesn’t even realize when he’s falling asleep, or where, but at least there’s no dreams to haunt him.
It’s just darkness, warmth, and he feels at peace for the first time in a while.
… That is, until there’s a rough awakening.
“Holy shit-”
Fucking hell.
“What the fuck?”
The curses leave his mouth before he can even think, but he quickly realizes he’s drenched; his head is pounding and he doesn’t want to open his eye just yet, the sun already blinding him even without him having to look, yet still he does slowly, blinking the sleep away a few times to be greeted by Ruggie standing in front of him, holding an empty bucket.
He assumes its contents are on him right now.
“The fuck, Ruggie…” He groans loudly, wiping the wetness from his face lazily.
“I should be the one asking. The hell you’re doing out here? You look like absolute shit.”
“Thanks, appreciate that compliment.” He’s not in the mood to deal with this right now. “Leave me alone, I’m gonna sleep some more.”
Ruggie sounds annoyed when he speaks. “Like I’ll let you. Geez, just how much did you drink?”
“Not enough.”
“Too much.”
God, can Ruggie stop bugging him? He barely feels human right now, much less does he have any motivation to have any sort of discussion about – again – his life choices.
But the smaller one doesn’t let it go, instead squats down next to him, roughly shoving a cloth in his hands.
“Wipe your face. Seriously, if ya wanted someone for the night, ya could’ve just asked Kalim, ya know? There’s plenty of pretty girls in the palace.”
“What- no. Fuck, no. I didn’t…” Leona still does as he’s told, wipes his face. When looking at the cloth afterwards though, there’s red lipstick stains all over it, and he groans even louder. “Oh.”
“Oh my ass.” He’s roughly being gripped by his arm and pulled up on his feet by the other, still he has to support himself against the wall. His headache is killing him. “Is that what you spent your money on?”
Leona pats his side and yeah, his purse is definitely gone. Well.
“Nah,” he gestures vaguely, using Ruggie as support still. “Guess it must’ve been stolen.”
“How can you be so calm about that?”
“I already gambled away most of it before.”
“That doesn’t make this any better.”
To a certain point, Leona can still remember what had happened, but there’s just a few moments in his memory that seem wiped out. Not that it matters much, but he still wants to bury himself six feet deep. He feels like shit, and it looks like the sun is already up so high it must be noon, or almost.
“Kalim was asking for you,” Ruggie finally explains. “It was a pain in the ass to find you.”
“I bet it was.” He almost feels proud of it. One of these days, he’ll be able to escape his vice-captain completely.
Slowly he’s getting steadier; it’s not his first, and it probably won’t be his last hangover. He’s had worse, and all in all, despite being short on about 50 gold coins, he’d say last night was a success minus being robbed in his sleep.
They make their way back to the palace in moderate speed, he’s still sluggish and exhausted and at least in this department, Ruggie is taking pity on him. A few people greet him and one or two he even recognizes from last night, but most of them, he draws blank.
Otherwise, silence embraces the two of them on Leona’s walk of shame. Not that he feels humbled in any way, but he can recognize people will see his disheveled state and know he got shit-faced last night. Good thing he never particularly cared about what others think of him.
When they enter the gates to the palace, Ruggie gives him a quick nod.
“I’ll let Jamil know you’re back and getting ready,” he says. Then, his voice is more stern. “Don’t dare go back to bed.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Damn.
Well, Ruggie’s right. Even if he went back to sleep, he’d still be in for a rough awakening, and if getting water splashed into his face was already uncomfortable, only imagining what Jamil would do makes him consider his options. Unlike Jamil, Ruggie is still somewhat nice to him.
The other is already off and Leona is left to his own devices; he strolls along the garden slowly, deciding to take a little detour and using one of the side entrances. A stupid little walk for his stupid little headache might not be the worst option right now.
And so he does, crossing the garden, smelling the self-grown herbs all around him. There’re flowers, too, and everything is buzzing with bees and butterflies. In his sorry state, he feels absolutely out of place in this idyllic scene.
It still feels nice, calming even, to hear the crunching beneath his feet, gravel making way for him. The warm wind gently dries him, and he slowly begins to feel like a person again.
He stops, then.
His eye falls on purple flowers on the ground. He looks up, an opened window, and he realizes that those are the flowers from his room. Seeing them down here, discarded, useless, and he feels bad for having thrown them out to begin with.
Hah. Taking pity on flowers. He’s really an idiot, huh.
Still he picks them up and continues his journey. If they rot down here, or up in that ugly vase, does it make a difference? And still, if they’re in water, they will keep their beauty for longer.
Some have lost petals from the fall, but they mostly look okay for what they’ve been through; they’re still the same shade as yesterday, surprisingly so, and he finds that unlike yesterday, today he doesn’t hate the color as much.
There’s a splashing sound, eventually, and he looks up. He hadn’t even noticed how far he’s walked, but he’s next to a row of pillars now, an open room, and he immediately recognizes the construct. It’s definitely Kalim’s halfway-outdoor-pool, for a lack of better description. Leona isn’t an architect to know what it’s really called.
Involuntarily, his feet carry him closer. Another splash, and there’s a glint of blue; he steps closer, and again a flash of purple and blue and red. He can’t stop himself, moves even closer, closer, until he’s a mere meter away from the edge of the pool.
There’s no doubt. It’s Vil’s tail he saw. And as if on cue, again, the man leaps out of the water, and it looks so majestic it’s almost surreal. How, when he dives back under, the fins move rhythmically, blending with the waves he’s causing, and Leona realizes this is the first time he’s seen him swim.
His eye widens and he’s at a loss of words. It’s so naturally entrancing, captivating, how effortlessly the merman moves through the water in circles, how his muscles flex when he moves his arms, he realizes that his back is as lean as his arms are, and he’s astonished because he never really realized it before.
His mouth feels entirely too dry, and as much as he wants to blame the hangover, it doesn’t feel right.
He barely realizes when the man underwater stops his movement and turns. However, when he pointedly swims into his direction, he understands he’s been seen, and he has no chance of escaping anymore.
Not that he wants to, when Vil emerges from under the surface. His long, elegant fingers stroking his loose hair back, shimmering golden. Eyes slowly opening, and bright, clear hues of amethyst fixating on him from under long lashes. It almost feels like it’s all happening in slow-motion, when the smile on his lips widens.
It knocks the breath out of his lungs.
“Leona.”
“Vil.”
His voice feels way too rough when he says his name and he immediately clears his throat. He subconsciously licks his lips, looks away. He doesn’t like the way their eyes meet.
Vil has absolutely no business looking like that, Leona decides.
“You look like shit.” Ah, well, at least the snarky personality is still where it belongs.
“Yeah. Heard that one before today.”
The other inches closer until he reaches the edge of the pool, leaning onto it, cheek supported on his palm as he titles his head, looking up.
“Did you come to bring me flowers?”
Oh, right, he’s still holding them. He looks between them and Vil, then, but looks away again immediately when he realizes those purple eyes are still fixated on him.
“They have the same color as your eyes.” Wait, why is he saying that? Can his brain maybe not?
The other chuckles, and his voice is way too nice when he does so. “Do they?”
“I… guess?”
“Do you think they’re pretty?”
Leona blinks at him. “… I mean, they’re flowers. They look as good as flowers do, I guess.”
“I wasn’t talking about the flowers.”
Wait, what? Is he flirting with him? What’s this? His mouth falls open and he’s rendered speechless for a moment, but Vil just laughs.
“I’m just messing with you. You don’t look well at all. Ah, but Kalim was looking for you and asked me about it. I think he still doesn’t understand the concept of not having legs to walk around with.”
“Sure sounds like him,” and Leona is glad that the other has eased the mood again.
“You should go get changed and washed up. When you’re done, come back here.”
“To watch you swim?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Mhm, if you want to? I don’t mind being watched,” Vil says, way too smug.
“Now you’re just flirting with me.”
“I would never,” but his voice still sounds way too amused. “But no, it’s to make you look presentable. It’d be a pity to see everyone celebrating when you look like an angler fish.”
“That sounds like an insult.”
“Maybe it is.”
Leona still places the flowers in front of the merman before he turns to leave.
Maybe they fit better here.
Chapter 5
Notes:
I will warn you ahead, I had many troubles writing especially the end of the chapter. It's rough, I rewrote everything like 5 times, but I don't think I'll be satisfied either way so here you are. I hope you will still enjoy.
Also, Leona and Vil ship JaKal it's canon I don't make the rules.
Chapter Text
Chapter 5
Flowers are placed down and Leona turns to leave; the smile on Vil’s lips disappears as he impassively watches the other go.
What a fool.
He strokes his hair back once more with one hand, a sigh, and he stares into nothingness. The sun is already high enough to not blind him anymore – unlike in the early morning hours – and no more rays are falling directly onto his face from between pillars.
Drowned in shade, and he thinks this act, too, went better than he had expected. He inhales long, deep, a sweet aroma embracing his senses and he closes his eyes, thinking that really, Leona is playing his part way too well for not knowing the script.
It’s all going according to plan.
That man, he’s easy to figure out. It’s so easy in fact, that Vil almost feels like he’s humoring him, but that would indicate an actor like himself wouldn’t see when someone else was pretending to be something they aren’t. And by a far shot, he doesn’t think Leona has it in himself to be able to fool him.
His mind wanders when he looks at the horizon. Ah, it must’ve been a day like this, sunny and warm with clouds lazily traveling across the sky. It’s already been so long, and yet it’s like he can still feel the sand against his tail, can still feel wet skin under his fingertips; a voice strained with exhaustion, but he can’t remember the words spoken. Not that he had ever understood what they meant to begin with.
All he can recall is blood, bruises, but the face of that boy from that day, it’s nothing but a blur in his memory. Dark hair and strange ears like Jack’s and Leona’s, but the rest? He isn’t too sure about it anymore. Now that he’s seen so many variations of them, how can he even be sure anymore what their shape was?
It’s already been ten years, after all.
If only he had known this chance would come, he probably would have done better to remember him. But it’s no use now, he’s here, he’s close to humans, he cannot let this chance go to waste. In the end, he will have to trust his heart to tell him.
Of course he, too, realizes how stupid it is to chase after phantoms; but how can he let it go when that boy had been in his dreams so many times for so long? How can he let go when there’s even the slightest chance he’ll find him again?
A dream, after all, will only stay a dream until one makes it reality.
And he’s keen on doing just that. He has to find out what happened to him. Whether he’s alive or not – ten years are, ultimately, a long time – or whether he even remembers him in the first place, Vil has to know the truth.
So long, and the words still echo in his head; they’re nothing but gibberish, but they’re all Vil can cling to as the memory is fading.
He definitely, without fail, has to meet that human again.
Vil sighs to himself as he opens his eyes, gently tracing the petals of that flower. He inhales once more and recognizes they’re the cause for the sweetness in the air. He almost feels bad but not really, for he knows it’s only an act to make Leona do as he wants him to.
Once he finds that person again, he will have to get rid of that pirate one way or another, so in the end, does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? He touches the flower gently and a petal falls to the marble floor, slowly, shimmering in a vibrant hue of purple.
“They look like my eyes, huh…”
He knows he can’t get too cozy with that man. The display of worry yesterday and the conversation earlier are proof that his performance is working – how could it not, when Vil was born to be an actor – but there’s just this hint of dread in the pit of his stomach that he just can’t exactly place.
Pushing that uneasy feeling aside, knowing he can’t get lost in his own feelings when he’s supposed to have none, he plucks the flower’s head and tucks it behind his ear. It might not be jewelry, but it’s just as beautiful.
“Where did you get those?”
A voice suddenly rips him from his thoughts and it’s only now that Vil realizes he had closed his eyes once more and drowned out his surroundings. However, he’s as unfazed as can be, he already expected someone to come sooner or later. He shrugs, hums. Doesn’t even have to look at where the other is pointing to know that of course he’s talking about the flowers.
“A cute little hummingbird brought them.” He knows the other can tell the fake sweetness of his tone. And he knows that Jamil knows who he is talking about, too.
“I wouldn’t describe that guy as cute, and neither as a little hummingbird.”
Purple eyes meet black ones for but a moment; he looks Jamil up and down, mustering the way he’s holding a box while seeming deeply dissatisfied with the job of a delivery boy.
Vil laughs lightly and nods. “You’re right, he definitely isn’t,” but he finds he lacks the motivation to add a mean comment after that. “I wonder though, I requested items from Kalim and you’re the one bringing them?”
“You could say it’s part of the job description.”
The smile on Vil’s lips turns into a smirk, then, and he says, “How interesting. I didn’t know playing errand boy for your lover counts as a job.”
“He’s not my-” Jamil huffs, places the box down and crosses his arms. “He’s my master and I’m his servant, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Master and servant, huh? I’ve heard that one before. Kinky.”
“That- You know what? Think what you want, but it’s not like that. I’ve only come to bring you what you wanted from Kalim, and I’ll be on my merry way again.”
“You tell yourself that,” Vil hums.
Still, he pushes himself off the edge of the pool, swimming in Jamil’s direction who watches him like a snake would watch its prey. He’s distrustful, but that’s okay. The feeling is rather mutual.
“Well then, serpent boy, I kindly thank you for your services. You’re dismissed.”
The other raises his eyebrow though. “’Serpent boy’? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come on. First you tell me Kalim isn’t your lover, then you’re going to pretend you’re not a shapeshifter?” He’s right in front of Jamil now, looking up directly. “That’s just one too many lies in under a minute.”
It’s entirely too amusing to watch how he can rile the black-haired man up, making him feel unsettled in such a short time. But his expression tells Vil that he’s not quite wrong about his assumptions.
“Again, he’s not my lover,” the other retorts and Vil chuckles.
“Then why are you doing anything he asks you to, even when you look like you absolutely don’t want to?”
The other pauses and considers, but sighs eventually and shakes his head. “He saved my life and I’m in his debt. Until I repay it, it will be what it is. But, I could ask you the same. Why would you stick with Leona when you could ask Kalim to return you to the sea?”
“Because I have my own goals and ambitions, and he’s quite convenient for it. There’s someone I need to find, and I need Leona to take me to places.”
Jamil raises his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Someone above the surface?” he asks, and Vil only nods.
“Yes.”
“How peculiar. So basically you’re using him as a free ride?”
“You could say that.”
That man moves now, sitting down at the edge of the pool and dipping his bare feet into the water. The ripples are getting larger with every little movement, and Vil turns to lean his back against the cold marble stone behind.
“You know, you could ask Kalim to help find that person. He knows way too many people,” he says thoughtfully, watching the surface.
But Vil only shakes his head. “I couldn’t possibly involve others in my business.”
“And yet you do.”
“You mean that stupid man?” He vaguely gestures, dismissing the criticism. “He had it coming when he kidnapped me in the first place. I never asked to be taken away on a ship. I’m simply taking the chances I’m getting.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Jamil nod in thought, but otherwise he remains silent. It’s not uncomfortable, because in a sense, Vil can feel they’re kindred spirits one way or another. Obviously aside from the fact that Jamil clearly doesn’t mind staying with Kalim, while Vil very much does when it comes to that pirate.
“I guess we’re all looking for something then,” he eventually says, voice low. Silence. “… You know,” his eyes fixated on him now, “I’m in no position to say this, but you should be careful with that man. I know your kin can fend for themselves, but,” he pauses, hesitates, “I’m not sure even a Betta like you can take him head on.”
“Ah. I’m honored you recognize what I am. But, there’s other ways to get rid of someone rather than by simply using brute strength.” He shrugs. “I’ll see when the time comes.”
“All I’m saying is, you should be on guard around him. Things might not go according to plan.” Jamil then gets up, pats his pants back into place. “Anyway, I’ll be back later. The tailor should be done soon.”
“I appreciate it.”
All in all, when Jamil leaves, a trail of wet footsteps behind him, Vil finds the conversation went far better than anticipated. Naturally, he would’ve never underestimated Leona in the first place, even as a perfect actor like himself he still has to be on guard, but the words of warning are a good reminder that even if their encounter earlier had been rather playful, harmonic even, he can’t trust that captain further than he can throw him.
Not that it would deter him from his goal either way.
Finally opening the neglected box now, he pulls out various containers; they’re all thoughtfully labelled, clearly with the fact in mind that Vil wouldn’t know what’s what if they weren’t. He’s sure that, too, can be attributed to the dark-haired servant rather than his headless master.
There are quite a few lotions for skin and face; more containers with colored powder inside, some with some sort of colorful mousse, and while Vil isn’t too familiar with what they exactly are, he figures it must be the make-up he had requested. It’s been so long since he had painted his face, so he’s eternally grateful for Kalim’s generosity.
Despite being such an air-head, he thinks he rather likes the boy.
What a strange pair they make, huh? On the one hand this sweet, innocent person that would do anything and everything to please everyone, a smile always present on his face – even in the earliest hours of the day when he had personally come to wish Vil a good morning – and on the other hand a serpent too cunning and too witty for his own good.
Well, it’s not like it’s any of his business how that weird duo found another. Who knows? Maybe they were fated to be with each other and it was simply a lucky strike of fate that made their paths cross.
And ah, how Vil wishes it for himself as well. He wants to see that person again – wants to know whether he’s alive to begin with – and wants to ask him all the things he couldn’t. Just like he yearns to go the distance, see the human world, he also yearns to meet that person once more. Only once, and he’d be able to happily return home with content in his heart and no regret shrouding his soul.
How can he give up now? Now that he has the chance to go see the human world, see cities, meet people, how can he let go of this small glimmer of hope?
Even if it seems impossible to find him again, even if there’s only one in a million chance, how can he let it pass by?
There’s no price too high when it comes to turning dreams into reality, after all.
He sighs and starts applying eyeshadow to his lids with careful precision; by no means does Vil think he’s unsightly without make up, but he still rather likes the appeal and additional enhancement it gives his beauty. The deep, rich shades make his eye color pop more, the gentle glint and shimmer of the cream he applies to his lips make them look more vibrant.
If he finds that person again – even as unlikely as it is – he can’t bear to look less than perfect.
“You don’t need that, ya know.”
A voice startles him and he almost – almost! – smudges some of the sheer color, but luckily, he manages to keep his hand steady as he does the finishing touches.
“I know.” He looks up; a fake smile, and he knows the performance starts once again. “But you do. You still look half asleep.”
Leona’s and his eyes meet; despite having dark circles beneath it, the emerald color still looks as charming as ever, and it’s quite a pity that the other never deems it necessary to put in even a little effort into making his face presentable.
Lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the pool where just earlier Jamil had been, he gestures to the other to come over and sit down, and he actually obeys, quite to Vil’s surprise.
The first thing Vil notices: He changed his clothing. No more of that rugged, dirty, white shirt and ripped pants from earlier. Instead, it’s a white sort of attire with golden embroidery; the fabric looks more expensive than Leona’s entire closet and Vil has to admit, he rather likes the stark contrast of the gold and white against his dark hair lazily cascading down. Dare he say, Leona actually looks good in that.
His hands feel along the gemstone embedded into the other’s sleeve when he sits down next to him cross-legged, feeling the ornate and delicate patterns of the stitching around it. The craftsmanship on this is absolutely gorgeous.
“You look like a prince with this,” he says, lost in discovering where the floral patterns travel down his arm, feeling muscles flex ever so slightly beneath his fingertips. “You don’t look bad at all.”
Leona snorts, though, “Happens from time to time.”
Vil frowns in turn at the reply, but decides to not comment on the tone the other used; he feels like he shouldn’t pry into why he’d sound like he’s offended when he’s receiving a compliment, first and foremost because Vil doesn’t care whether Leona is offended or not.
“Close your eye,” he simply orders and the other furrows his eyebrows, still does as he’s told but twitches when Vil’s fingers touch him. He’s even being gentle and that’s the reaction? Talk about ungrateful.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Making you look better.” His voice is nonchalant, but Leona groans.
“I don’t need that,” he retorts, but it falls on deaf ears.
“You definitely do.”
Vil is gentle when he applies some of the lotion he received from Kalim onto Leona’s skin and it’s… drier than he thought, but it also does not surprise him with how much ‘effort’ the other puts into his skin care. Now that he’s up close, feels it, he really can tell this poor handsome face has been way too neglected for too long. The texture is rough but there’s definitely a certain charm to it.
He can only imagine how charming the other would look if he actually worked on himself. By no means does Leona have to have skin as smooth as a merman, but it’s small steps that pave the way.
… Then again, maybe it’s for the best that he doesn't work on himself, because if people saw him at his best, his ego would probably be boosted into the sky when women, men and anything in between would shower him with compliments.
His fingers gingerly trace his features; now that he’s up close, he can see little freckles scattered amongst his skin, faint like the stars in the early evening hours. There’s an urge to count them all, feel them all, but he dares not. Traces his strong nose, then, feeling the bridge that is healed already. Wandering across his cheeks and discovering high bones across his way.
His skin glows when everything is smoothed out and the difference to before is already astonishing, and Vil hasn’t even really started; the shine and dewiness it gives to him really does the trick to make him look healthier and not as if he had just had a rough night.
He uses some of the darker brown and black powder then to pat on the corner of his eye and finds it absolutely fascinating how his lid ever so slightly trembles beneath his touch, but he won’t be deterred, continues in his efforts, afterwards using some of the golden powder to pat in the middle of the lid, and he can already tell even with his eye closed he’ll probably look the best he’s ever done.
Which isn’t hard, considering he washes his face with soap.
And, as much as Vil wants to put on the brightest shade of red he got on his lips just for the fun of it, he decides to go with something muted; there’s some sort of balm that he applies, feeling the rough, chapped texture under his fingertip.
Ah, he really looks good like this. If only he didn’t have such a bad personality, Vil would almost consider him kissable right now. Not by himself, of course, but in general. Fingertip still lingering on his lips, and it almost makes him lean forward. Thumping, and he realizes this moment is just a bit too intimate for his liking, but it’s just perfect like this-
“You’re really into touching me, aren’t ya?” Leona’s mocking tone drags Vil back to reality. He withdraws his finger immediately, almost as if burnt. “Like my lips so much?”
“I’m not, and I don’t,” he retorts, tries to desperately calm himself, but the other laughs.
“You tell yourself that.”
“I really don’t.”
“Ooh, you really wanna kiss me so bad.”
“I told you, I don’t.”
Leona laughs even more now. “Don’t be shy, honey, I know what you want.”
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue in frustration and takes one of the combs from the box, undoing Leona’s braids, starting to brush them gingerly. “As if you’d know what anyone wants.”
But Leona only scoffs amusedly. “Of course I do. You secretly really like looking at and touching my face.”
“Again, I don’t.” And maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit rougher when he detangles that mess on Leona’s head. “Besides, you’re way too selfish. How can you understand the feelings of the people around you? Really, you’re the kind of person that wouldn’t even know if someone pretended to have an orgasm.”
Leona blinks once, twice, “Hey-”, frowns but can’t hide the grin widening on his lips, “How do you even know a word like that?”
“Your crew is terrible, let me tell you. The amount of awful words I’ve learned...”
“I need to talk to them about that, don’t I?” He slumps his shoulders, acting all resigned; they share a look, then, and Vil giggles at the stupidity of the conversation and Leona joins in with chuckles of his own.
“You should.”
He works with diligence on undoing that bird’s nest, and it does take some time, but it’s rather rewarding to see his hair smoothed out for once in his life. The braids are done rather quickly as well, too, and he definitely looks like someone who would be allowed at a gala of fairies now.
“We’re done. I think this is my best work yet,” he says jokingly, “It’s really hard making a buffoon look like prince charming, but I think I’ve done it.”
Leona snorts and gently pushes his shoulder, making Vil in turn slap his hand away playfully, but still looks amused. “I told you, it happens from time to time. I’m a proud lion, I better look like one.”
“A sea lion, maybe.”
“I take that’s an insult, too?”
“Mhm, who knows?” But he still can’t help himself, leans in closer and whispers in fake secrecy, “I’ll let you in on a secret, for once… Yes, yes, it is an insult.”
His shoulder gets punched lightly once more, but he can’t really mind it, he kind of had it coming. Ah, but what a pity that the other is usually too grumpy to play along in a comedy like this.
Their eyes lock, and silence falls over them then; their laughter faded out already, and tranquility stretches over them with nothing but the buzzing of insects and chirping of cicadas in the distance. It’s just a moment too long to be comfortable, yet too short to be uncomfortable either.
Leona seems to want to say something but gets interrupted by a sudden, loud and very cheerful voice breaking them apart; they both move back almost instinctively when another person enters the room and both definitely do their best to pointedly not look at the other.
“Leona, I found you!” And the other groans, for real now. Vil can’t help but chuckle at how Kalim can’t seem to read the room at all, but it’s fine. “I’ve been looking all over the palace for you. Guests are already arriving, you should come greet them with me!”
The pirate frowns, furrows his eyebrows and looks hesitant to leave. Vil, on the other hand, gently nudges him.
“Go on, lion boy. The master of this house is waiting for you.”
He nods and gets up, turns to leave. A few steps, and he stops in his tracks at the entrance. Stares, and Vil is unsure what’s the matter, since he looks like he still wants to say something. He opens his mouth slightly, closes it, opens it again.
“Vil-” and he perks up, but the other stills and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”
He’s gone already and the merman is left behind, wondering what that was about. What is it he wanted to say? He can’t shake off the feeling that there was something on his mind, but Vil can’t seem to put his finger on it exactly.
Not that it matters, actually. Whatever he was going to say, it wouldn’t change anything.
One line more or less spoken can’t throw off an entire act after all.
What a strange man though, Vil thinks. One day they fight, the next he’s actually being funny, he wonders if he’s the one who can’t recognize acting even if it punched him in the face.
How unusual.
He inhales, exhales. It’s strangely quiet and there’s no comfort in it. Carefully, he wants to tuck a loose strand behind his ear, but his fingers impact with something soft and- Oh.
Taking the flower, he looks at it once more; there’s uneasiness pooling at the pit of his stomach, dread, and while he can’t pinpoint why, he reckons it’s probably because all of this is only temporary. Of course he doesn’t feel guilty about his plan, why should he? He shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to get rid of Leona once he’s found what he’s seeking, and of course he doesn’t, but he still can’t shake this feeling off.
“It’s all an act,” he whispers to himself. “I only have to endure it until I find that person again.”
It’s only a matter of time, he thinks. He only has to pretend to be friendly enough with him so he’ll continue taking him to cities, to meet people. There’s no other reason than this behind his actions.
Of course there isn’t. He’s not a fool.
He’s always fought on his own to achieve his goals. He can’t afford to look out for others, nor does he have any use for unnecessary emotions along the way.
The flower is thrown into the pool carelessly. Floats on the surface.
It looks lonesome.
“Seriously, Leona! You look a-ma-zing!”
He can only scoff at that comment. “I always do.” He’s not in the mood to discuss being painted like a clown right now.
But Kalim, tone-deaf as he is, shakes his head eagerly. “No, but like, you really do! When Vil asked for cosmetics, I didn’t think he’d use it on you. Actually, I wouldn’t have thought you’d let him do it, either! You two really get along well, don’t you?”
“We don’t!” Okay, maybe his reply was a bit too quick. “… We don’t, okay? Don’t interpret something into something where there’s nothing to be interpreted into to begin with.”
“That’s a lot of words to say you actually do.”
“Are you even listening?” He groans again. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, Kalim.”
The boy only grins widely, cheerfully, and it low-key ruins Leona’s mood even more. He’s not even half awake enough for this shit. Who does he think he is to make these kinds of assumptions? He knows nothing, and that’s that. Hell, in Kalim’s world everyone is best friends and life is easy, he probably can’t even tell when someone wants to stab him – actually, Leona is quite sure that that would’ve probably already happened a million times if not for Jamil.
He can’t be arsed to listen to the other’s rambling, fades his voice out into some sort of buzzing background noise and really, he seems to be just content thinking Leona is listening to him, so who is Leona to interrupt this endless monologue.
They walk down a long hallway and his eye darts to the windows they’re passing, passively observing the city in the distance. He’d much rather prefer to be out there than in here any day, but it’s still convenient as hell to play buddy-buddy with Kalim simply for the fact that by now, his ship is probably restocked to full capacity by his servants already.
Oh, how he hopes he didn’t load on any of those dreadful crackers again-
“… And he was like, sure, why not! Ah, I’m so excited! So, what do you think about that, Leona?”
“What?” Ugh he absolutely hates when people ask him questions when he’s not listening to them. “Yeah, sure, good idea. Whatever.”
He has absolutely no fucking clue what the hell Kalim just said, but the boy smiles so widely even the sun outside is envious and Leona wishes he had a second eyepatch just so he could block that out.
“Amazing! I’ll let him know later!” His voice is way too excited, the dreadful kind of way.
Fucking hell, he has no idea what he got himself into this time. He can only hope that either they’re gone by the time for whatever to happen, or he’s dead drunk and Kalim will leave him alone. Either is fine, but he prefers the first option since he has places to be and mermaids to ditch and he’s already wasted enough time with two of the most obnoxious people he knows.
He’s quite glad Vil looked a lot better than yesterday, too. In that state he can travel again, probably, without dying or some shit. He really didn’t know that heat would be such a factor, but he reckons after Jamil’s explanation that the bottom of the sea is most likely ways colder than land, it does make sense.
Man, this is why he shouldn’t be allowed to keep a pet fish to begin with.
He wants to rub his face in frustration but remembers there’s some glittery shit on it, and he absolutely does not feel like being a sparkly little fairy princess by spreading it right now. Whatever happened to his face already happened and he can’t undo it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t complain. What, he’s not some sort of model that has to look good, he’s a freaking pirate and it’s fine if people see the bags under his eyes, okay?
Like, what does he even need lip balm for? Chapped or no chapped, it makes no difference. He can still get whoever he wants without luscious, plump lips, for fuck’s sake. Anyone he wants, except-
He seriously has to get out of his head right now. He’s still too fucked up from last night – probably – and that’s the only reason his brain is on stand-by mode while his dick does all the thinking. He can’t think of one single other reason why he’s having stupid thoughts about idiotic (mer)men with dumb, kissable lips.
… he really needs to sober up properly, this is derailing quicker than he wants it to.
Or maybe, he just needs more alcohol until he’s unconscious (again).
They eventually reach the entrance hall of the palace and again, Leona seriously has no idea what Kalim talked about the past five, maybe ten minutes – this place is too large, for real – but the other seems happy and that’s all that counts. Maybe.
There are some familiar faces that he half-assed greets, but other than that, he just keeps in the background while the owner of this place excitedly shakes hands, yells welcoming speeches, does whatever a Kalim does. It’s all the same either way and Leona doesn’t give enough of a crap to take part in this circus.
There’s a compliment here and there, “Looking good, Kingscholar,” and some pairs of eyes staring daggers at him, but he doesn’t feel like engaging with it too much. He’d rather skip the pleasantries.
He lazily follows after the crowd once everyone is in, and by no means is it the largest Leona’s ever seen in the palace for one of Kalim’s infamous parties, but it still smells like a pain in the ass having to deal with any of them. He’s just in for the food and drinks and smokes, he can do very well without socializing.
Besides, he knows that at least ten or so of these people want to either slap – or stab – him, so that’s that. Isn’t it fun how everyone plays house just to appease the rich guy. Charming, really. He could shed a tear at how thoughtful they are out of the kindness of their hearts with no ulterior motive.
Not that he’s any better, but at least he’s been actual friends with Kalim for almost twenty years now, so that should count for something. Right?
They make their way to one of his so-called ‘party rooms’; there’s a few low tables here and there, a shit ton of pillows for either seating or lounging, and, as to be expected from the ruler of a pirate city, one too many gambling opportunities ranging from dice games to heads and tails. He himself stands by the door and leans against the wall with his arms crossed as he watches them all spread out to whichever game they fancy.
There’s some sitting by the balcony to talk business, probably, a few around a low table for what seems to be poker in the way the servant stationed there deals the cards, a few older farts collect around the mahjong table. They’re all already way too noisy for his liking.
“Aren’t you enjoying yourself, Leona?” The voice of a woman rings in his ears and when he looks up, it’s definitely one of the ladies that he would throw into the category of ‘Wants to slap me’.
“Am absolutely thrilled, can’t you see?” His voice is drenched in sarcasm, of course.
She rolls her eyes. “Charming to see your personality hasn’t changed, unlike your looks. So, who are you gonna talk out of their pants tonight?”
“You, maybe?” He wants to smirk, but the expected slap across his cheek comes faster than he anticipated. Yep, he definitely deserved that one, and probably more if he was honest. But it’s not the worst slap he had suffered from the past month.
“You’re a bastard,” she spits out.
He shrugs in turn. “I hear that quite frequently.”
She scoffs. “I bet.”
“… look, I’m sorry, okay?” And he’s genuine, he really is sorry that their expectations had been just too different. “There’s just some things that aren’t meant to happen, and us dating is one of them.”
“One day, you’ll die all on your own and you have no one to blame but yourself.”
He hums. “You’re probably right, but that sounds like a problem for the future.”
She wants to say something and crosses her arms, but shakes her head eventually. “Take care, Leona.”
“You, too. I mean it.”
As she leaves, he looks after her; she all but gets lost in the crowd and it feels wrong to stare at her for longer than necessary, so he decides to let his eye roam the room to look for some place where he can withdraw to in peace. This day, too, has already been too much for his liking.
Strolling across the carpets and he finds his destination, then. Lounges in the cushions beside a table with chess pieces and it’s rather nice that no one dares to approach him, probably because of the display earlier and everyone most likely thinking he’s in a bad mood now.
He isn’t, for a fact, he’s just tired, but if others leave him alone, it’s just all the better. He doesn’t need anyone messing with his business.
White pawn to e4, black pawn to e5, white to f4. Black strikes white and f4 is down; he takes the head of his white Bishop and regains the gambit pawn. Ah, should he take the bait? Considering for only but a moment, and he pushes black to take the gamble.
Figures move across the board and he blends out the rest of the noisy party; he takes the occasional drink and snack offered but doesn’t pay it any more attention than that. Red wine tastes better when enjoyed during a good game of chess, after all.
He can vaguely make out one of Kalim’s men placing a hookah next to him, but he pays it no mind for now. Pushes his Knight further into the white’s territory and the earlier dominance seems to crumble slowly. The Rook takes another pawn.
He wants to reach out to take the black Queen, then, but another’s hand takes hold of it before he can, carefully placing it exactly where he wanted to place it, too. Raises his eyebrow, then, looking up to meet a snake’s piercing gaze.
“King’s gambit?”
“Look at that, a Pawn has moved into my territory. How do I deserve the honor?”
He takes hold of the white Queen then, moving her all across the board. Jamil plays the Bishop to steal his Rook, Leona returns the favor by stealing the Rook in turn with his Knight.
“Is it fun to sit in the corner, brooding, playing chess on your own?” The other asks.
He watches his last Pawn being taken. “It’s definitely more fun than playing with you.”
“Because I don’t have a fish tail?”
Leona can only scoff at that. “Because you’re a freaking snake interrupting my peace. You really like butting into my business, don’t you?” His eye traces over the board once more, then wanders over the entirety of the party. “Where’s your King, little Pawn?”
“Wait and see what happens.”
He raises his eyebrow at that, but apparently doesn’t have to wait for long until the doors on the opposite end of the room, right behind the musicians, spring open and in comes the cheerful Sultan of the Palace accompanied by Jack and-
Vil, of course.
Who else?
And yet, his eye widens; naturally it can only be him in Jack’s arms being carried like a spoiled princess, but that’s not it. How his blonde hair contrasts and yet matches perfectly with the dark turquoise dress he’s wearing that is very obviously made to fit him and him only. Golden necklaces and bracelets adorning his neck and arms, a golden belt around his waist, the hem of the dress decorated with peacock feathers and blending so well with his fins at the very end that even he himself would be none the wiser if he didn’t know there was actually a fishtail beneath the skirt.
He swallows hard. Thinks that when gently placed in a colorful arrangement of cushions and pillows, he looks way too graceful. The way he’d carefully place that loose strand of hair behind his ear, purple eyes intensely mustering the room with a smile on his lips, he’s clearly stealing all the attention.
His hair is in an updo and decorated with even more gold, Leona thinks he’s been such a fool, an absolute idiot, for taking Vil’s jewelry away from him in the first place.
“Like the surprise?” Jamil’s words throw him back into reality akin to the bucket of water Ruggie had used earlier.
“Don’t be stupid. A fish is a fish no matter how you turn it.”
“You’re a bad liar. Has anyone ever told you that your ears are way too expressive?”
He growls, but doesn’t feel like retorting at all; in fact, looking at Jamil now feels like a waste when there’s something way better to be seen. He might not be an expert on the field, but he can definitely tell ‘okay-looking I guess’ and ‘holy shit is he real?’ apart.
Kalim’s voice is loud when he exclaims, “Dear everyone! Let’s welcome our guest of honor, Vil!” and it’s absolute insanity how some of the men cheer while some of the ladies ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and everyone’s eyes are fixated on Vil who is seated at a convenient distance.
Sure. He’s a pretty guy and everything. But, like, isn’t that too much?
(He definitely ignores the fact that he has ogled him just seconds earlier, too.)
The man smiles and it is almost criminal how gentle and charming he looks unlike his usual snarky self.
“It’s my pleasure to be invited.” His voice is unusually high pitched and if Leona did not know better, again, he’d be fooled to think he’s a sweet maiden. He’s absolutely shocked by the fact that the other can simply change his voice like that.
The way he moves his bare shoulders ever so slightly, seems to adjust to look even more appealing, Leona can tell it’s all intentional and he hates that it works too.
“Tell us about yourself!” There’s someone yelling from one of the tables, another chimes in. “Yeah, what’s a pretty one like you doing here?” and he can see some of them already inclined to stand up and close in, but none dares with Jack behind the merman with his arms crossed and stern face.
“I am but a humble performer. I have come from far and have been invited by Kalim to enjoy this event with all of you, for I have never been able to in the past.”
“What? How come? Someone like you would be invited to any party!” someone yells, but Vil smiles and shakes his head.
“It just so happens that I was born without the ability to walk. If not for a pirate’s generosity, how could I possibly wish to experience what it is like to be away from my home?”
Liar. It actually really, really bothers him how natural that guy sounds as he says this – in a fake fucking voice, too, on top of that – because it makes it sound so real if one didn’t know the truth. He can see that Jack in the background feels at least similar if not the same in the way he averts his eyes and frowns.
Yet each and every single one of these fools eats it up, fed right out of the palm of his hand. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s already wrapped them around his fingers with nothing but his little performance.
Leona shakes his head and looks back at the board; he has no business with an idiot, and he’d rather drop dead than be caught staring for too long. He moves his King and suppresses a groan when he notices he’s made a stupid mistake.
Jamil moves his Knight. “Check.”
He desperately wants to ignore everything right now. It’s really fucking annoying how loud everyone is all of the sudden, how some flock to Vil. He doesn’t want to look and yet can’t miss the way some potential suitors already approach him.
He’s frustrated. And he hates that he’s frustrated. And he hates that he has to sacrifice his own Knight to take down Jamil’s.
“Checkmate,” and Leona growls deep when the Queen takes his Knight, corners the King and he knows he can’t escape anymore.
“Let’s do another round,” because he has to get his mind off the way Vil stupidly laughs at something probably not even funny one of those fools said. He’s glad Jack and Kalim are by his side and the music picked up again so he doesn’t have to listen in.
Jamil already returns all the figures to their original spots. Smirks, then. “Don’t get distracted this time, Kingscholar.”
“I won’t.”
His Pawn moves first, then it’s Black’s turn, and White chases right after. It’s fast-paced and he’s thankful for it because it definitely helps keep his mind off a certain person sitting across the room. Jamil is witty, but he clearly lacks the expertise Leona has in chess.
A Bishop takes a Rook, and the other is already frowning; he realizes that the less time the other has to overthink things, the easier it is to throw him off his game. He rather likes driving the other into a corner and seeing his annoyed expression.
Not long after, and they’re back to only a few figures left on the board. Jamil thinks longer now, harder, and unfortunately it gives Leona enough time to let his eye wander.
He catches Vil and Kalim staring right at them. A moment passes, two, and it’s too long yet too short before the blonde turns to whisper something in Kalim’s ear, as if he’d hear them from all across the room to begin with. Yet the boy’s smile lights up considerably and his eyes won’t leave Jamil, and he’s pretty sure a small blush is spreading across his cheeks. Well, at least someone has fun.
“Looks like they’re talking about you,” he eventually says and Jamil only but raises an eyebrow. Quickly looks over to Kalim but returns his gaze to the chess board.
“Why would they be talking about me?” He pushes his Knight into the middle of the field.
Leona’s Bishop follows suit. “Don’t know. Maybe they’re planning your wedding finally. Guess the Pawn gets promoted to Queen.”
“Say that one more time and I’ll throw up.”
“Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell Kalim just how badly you want him to pop the question.”
“I hate you,” he says and takes Leona’s Bishop, however the revenge is short-lived when he moves his Queen across the board.
“Aw, ouch, that really hurt my feelings.” He grins, taps the board. “Who’s the distracted one now? Checkmate, Viper.”
Jamil grumbles one curse or another under his breath and he looks ultimately annoyed, but that serves him just right for invading Leona’s space in the first place. Should’ve known he’d eat shit, so there’s no one to blame but himself.
He’s wholly satisfied with himself, so he leans back to take a drag from the pipe, puffing fine smoke into the air. A sip from his cup of wine and he’s content when he sees the other studying the board, moving figures and retracing steps. Ambiguous but futile.
He finds that this, actually, isn’t so bad, so he leans back and relaxes into the atmosphere engulfing the room. It’s not as awful as he would’ve imagined, and a distraction from being on the sea is, even if he won’t admit it out loud, rather welcome from time to time.
Eyeing the goblet in his hands, golden and heavy and decorated with gems, and he thinks the wine is sweet as always. Hates to admit, but being Kalim’s friend always pays off one way or another. Drinks some more and realizes that Jamil is shifting in his seat, but he doesn’t care too much.
Eventually, he closes his eyes and listens to the music in the background fading out. Kalim said something, but he pays it no mind, content enough just lounging in peace. The room, too, quiets and he finds he rather likes it when it’s not so noisy anymore.
Then, a hum.
It starts low, barely there, but increases in volume quickly, filling the room; his eye snaps open almost immediately and- Is that Vil’s voice?
Taking over the entire place in just seconds and he blinks once and again. That’s definitely Vil singing, yet- Yet it doesn’t sound like him at all. No, in fact, it sounds like nothing Leona has ever heard before in his life. Or has he?
It’s warm and gentle, slow paced; like the sun and the wind, like a call to adventure; like gentle waves breaking on a beach, and his mouth runs dry. Licks his lips, then, frozen in place and looking ahead in awe. The way he moves, his arms and hands and shoulders and head following the sound that definitely doesn’t sound like a human’s singing, and he looks ethereal, so far yet so close.
Almost like an embrace, and the tune reverberates in his very core. Washing over him and he can’t stop it, doesn’t want to either, when he leans forward. Aches to get closer, closer, and the distance between them seems to disappear.
He can see it, Vil sitting on a rock and vocalizing, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. The seas surrounding him, and he’d just be barely out of reach, yet so near he can touch him-
It takes his entire willpower to rip his gaze from the merman, he feels just slightly dizzy, sees that others are on the edge of their seats too and knows he’s not the only one itching to approach, and he hates that they all look at him. They aren’t supposed to look at him.
But he can’t avert his eye for long, traveling back to the blonde whose voice is all the louder, the tune turning into something he can’t begin to comprehend, sorrowful and yearning, and he wonders whether Vil himself realizes or not.
He opens his eyes, amethyst so deep and reflective, and they’re looking directly at each other. He swallows hard, palms starting to feel sweaty. He’s getting lost and he can’t break free, can’t help but stare, the music taking hold of him wholly, completely, and he swallows once more.
Everything is twisting and turning. Water all around him, and he can’t breathe. Swimming, sinking, dying, cold hands embracing him. He’s pulled along, and he remembers nothing. His throat is dry.
A sip from his wine, and it tastes like bitterness and regret.
He can’t do this. He has to leave, now, quickly; breaks their eye contact, stumbles as he gets up and exits the room as fast as his feet can carry him. He doesn’t look back, ignores the falter in Vil’s voice. He needs to get away from this.
He wants to run so badly, but his legs won’t take him any faster; he wants to go back so bad, wants to listen to the end of it – he faintly still hears him, too – but he can’t. He needs to breathe.
His forehead touches the cold stone wall and he gasps for air, and he feels weak. Turns, and his knees give in, sliding down to just sit here in this stupid fucking corner like the greatest loser that has ever walked the earth.
Why, of all times, does he have to remember now what happened all these years ago? That sound, Leona is sure he must’ve heard something similar back then. He barely remembers, memory clouded, after all, for the most part he was unconscious.
He recalls one thing, though. When he was thrown off the ship and almost died that day. He remembers an embrace, dragging, this sound – voice? – and now he’s one hundred percent convinced it hadn’t been a dream. He truly must’ve been saved by a mermaid.
As crazy as that sounds.
It shouldn’t affect him, it’s just singing, but it does and he finds that the memories it awakens are ones he’d rather forget.
He feels sick.
Wholly leaning back and he takes a deep breath, two, three, and tries to calm the sickness forming in his stomach. If only he could remember, he could ask Vil about them even. Hell, he’d trade his original plan and return him straight away if he could tell him about that mermaid.
He really, desperately needs to find that person again, no matter what.
But it’s no use. Even now with images flooding his brain he isn’t able to recollect it all. He can’t picture their face at all. What else is there to say about a mermaid, anyway? That they had a fishtail? He’s sure that’d be of great help.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
And he groans. Tries to piece things together, but he just can’t. His mind is in shambles, he feels disoriented. Feels like he should have never heard that. And he wonders what it was, this sort of force that almost pulled him in, urging him to get closer to Vil almost as if hypnotized.
He didn’t feel like his own body belonged to him anymore, and he wonders if that is what the poor sailors from stories experienced when they encountered sirens, right before falling to their death into the ocean.
He feels defeated. He can’t think of anything right now, and even the faintest of tunes he heard are fading out. Lost in thought, but it’s no use and he leans his head back, tries to regain control over himself. He can’t let anyone see him like this.
Unsure of how much time passes, watching the sun slowly set and he vaguely can make out how there’s more noises coming from the direction he just came from. It’s loud, like an uproar, but he can’t make out more than that. There’s something inside him that wants to go back and see what’s happening, but with what just occurred, he can’t really be assed.
“Are you sure?”
A sudden voice brings him back, so unexpected it takes him completely off-guard. He barely even noticed anyone approaching. And sure as hell he hopes they won’t find him slumped over behind a pillar.
“Of course I am, idiot. That’s definitely a mermaid.”
The tune is hushed and Leona has to perk his ears up to listen in. Wait, they found out…?
“I saw them carry her to the west wing of this place. She’ll fetch us a hefty sum, so let’s steal her tonight.”
Yeah, no, they definitely found out. And hey, the kidnapping-a-mermaid part is his job.
There’s no way in hell he will let some assholes snatch Vil from right under his nose if he can do something about it. But what can he do? Leaving now is way too suspicious and he doesn’t want to run into an ambush in the city, but leaving tomorrow will most likely mean a fight as well. He’s not sure how many of that guy’s crew are available to start trouble, but he’d rather avoid that when it’s only Jack, Ruggie and him.
He has to think, and fast. Pushing the uneasy feeling aside, already on his feet again, and he slightly stumbles on his first steps but picks up the pace quickly. Think, think-
The pool.
He’s sure if there was any trouble, they would’ve brought the merman back there. It’s his best bet, and he’ll see from there on out. He walks faster, passing halls and windows, skillfully avoiding anyone who crosses his path. On his way he sees a man lying on the floor and he’s not quite sure wether the guy is asleep or worse. He doesn’t stop however, reaching the room soon enough and slamming the door open, and there’s four pairs of eyes on him all at once.
“Leona?”
“What did I miss?”
Ah. It’s only that damn pirate. For a moment Vil – and presumably everyone else as well – had thought it would be one of their pursuers, but it’s really just him. He sighs in relief and leans back a bit, he doesn’t need a shock like this after everything that had just occurred. God, someone teach the man manners and how to knock on a door before entering.
“Oh Leona… It was awful…” Kalim who is sitting next to him, is slumped over, his head hanging low. His voice lacks the usual energy.
“What was awful? What happened?” The pirate asks, closing the door behind himself at the very least and looks around. The confusion in his expression is painfully obvious, but Vil can’t blame him.
Jamil shakes his head. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, too.”
The other musters them and his confusion turns into a frown; again, very understandable. Between the four of them and looking at Kalim who was sweaty, exhausted but otherwise unharmed, and himself with a few bruises on his arms, Jack and Jamil definitely had gotten the short end of the stick. Jack with a blooming black eye and torn lip, Jamil with a makeshift patch on his forearm to keep a cut from bleeding all over him and also covered in bruises, he’s sure it’s obvious what happened.
“A fight broke out,” the wolf-boy speaks up, saying what is painfully clear already, gingerly feeling his eye.
“I can see that.” Leona titles his head. “You guys look like you ate shit. Anyone care to explain why?”
There’s a moment of silence; however, Jamil clears his throat and Vil is ultimately thankful that he does the job of portraying what went on, for he himself still isn’t too sure.
“Again, we have no idea. After you left, he kept singing for a while, but once he stopped, everyone just went… Crazy.”
He hesitates on the last part. Mostly because it’s the part that none of them can explain at all.
Vil sighs. “I have no idea why. Back at home I am quite the popular performer, and my audience has never gone violent.” He can’t bring it over himself to look anyone in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration, Kalim.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” It really isn’t, despite everything the boy says. “I barely remember what happened at all. I feel like I completely blacked out… Almost as if hypnotized, actually.”
“Hypnotized?” Leona raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Kalim nods.
“I really felt like I wasn’t owner of my own body until Jamil called out for me.”
Vil vividly remembers it, the way he had stared at him and grabbed his arm forcefully. Not that he was the only one, because another person had grabbed his other arm just seconds later and began pulling him. He’s simply glad Jack had also been by his side to deliver the first blow to that person, or else… Who knows.
“What about you, Jack? Jamil?” The pirate looks between them.
“Nothing,” Jamil says and Jack nods. “You, Leona? You left early.”
He hums in turn. “Somewhat, but not like I’d get up and grab him or anything. Seriously…”
It’s such a mess. He really hadn’t considered something like this would happen. When Kalim asked him to sing, how could he refuse him after he had been nothing but sweet and kind and generous to him? His voice as payment for the hospitality he had received only had seemed appropriate.
Yet…
“Anyway, we need to dash, Jack.” They all look at Leona again who is now lazily leaning against the doorframe. “They know that he’s-” and he points to Vil’s lower body vaguely, clears his throat. “We can’t stay longer. I’d prefer to leave without any more fights.”
Everyone seems to agree in the way they nod, most of all Vil who feels that this is probably the most sensible thing Leona has said during their whole trip. He’d much rather do without using newfound friends as human shields, to be honest.
He had felt so ashamed; to think he’d have to rely on others to protect him, it was disgracing. But in that very moment, he had felt so helpless like a fish on land, and, what can he say? He is. Without his usual motion range, it had proven to be harder to fight than underwater.
He still recalled the way Kalim had looked at him with empty eyes, how Jamil had stepped between them and the crowd and called for his master to come back to his senses; how Jack fought to keep people off him, too, until Kalim was conscious enough again to get his flying carpet. There was just no way he could carry Vil properly and still escape, so it had been the only choice.
And he feels bad. He never wanted any of this to happen.
“Alright,” Jamil speaks up again, everyone’s attention turning to him. “I can keep those that are left busy here. But what should we do about those that found out? I’m sure they won’t sit idle in the palace and just wait for a miracle. My guess is, they already went to the city and told their crews to be on the lookout for him.”
“So you’re saying it won’t be a nice little stroll through the city, huh?” Leona hums in thought. “Then, why don’t we just not walk altogether?”
“Are you saying we should be flying?” Vil asks doubtfully. Leona nods.
“Seeing how you’re already on the flying carpet as is, that seems like our best bet.”
Yeah, he is absolutely not on board with that. Even hovering half a meter above the floor had been scary enough, there’s no way he would just go off into the sky. Thanks, but no thanks.
“I refuse.”
“Tough luck. Jack, you go and get the crew. They don’t know we’re with Vil, right?”
Jack nods cautiously and Vil frowns. “I said I refuse. And if anything, Jack is the one I will fly with.”
“I’ve never been on a flying carpet before,” the boy admits and Leona has the audacity to laugh.
“Looks like you ain’t got a choice, then. Navigating a flying carpet ain’t as easy as you might think. I mean, unless you wanna fall to your death – in that case, be my guest.” He smirks, like the prick he is.
He wants to protest, really does, but he realizes it’s ultimately the most realistic plan they have to begin with, and what else can he do but trust Leona’s words on the presumed difficulty? He’d much rather not test the theory true, this time around.
He sighs. “Fine.” Then, turns to Kalim. “This means goodbye, then. I’m sorry again for ruining everything. I will make up for it in the future, if you let me.”
This at least brings a smile back to his face and he’s so very glad for it. Despite only knowing him for a day and finding his excessive positive energy exhausting at times, this expression suits him much better than a sad frown. He returns the smile, more gentle but still as genuine.
“Don’t worry too much about it, Vil!” It’s so good to see the spirits returning to him. “It’s not the first fight that broke out, and it won’t be the last. Jamil and I can handle!”
“Still, take care.”
Kalim nods and walks towards the door.
Jamil, too, approaches him then, placing something in his hand and when Vil looks down, it’s a short dagger decorated with gems and gold. It’s astonishingly beautiful for the fact that it is, when it boils down to it, a murder weapon.
“I hope you’ll find what you seek.” And Vil understands. “Oh. Also, don’t indulge in stupid idiots’ requests. It’s bad for your health.”
They both snicker; Leona groans, then. “Can you hurry your goodbyes up?”
“Sorry you have no friends to say goodbye to,” Vil remarks, but he can’t help but smile.
He really wouldn’t mind returning here. Without singing next time, but the good company would be appreciated any day. Maybe not all humans are bad, despite what Leona is apparently trying to show him every single day with his behavior. Maybe.
When Jamil also turns to leave, Vil grabs his arm once more. Pulls him close and whispers,
“Maybe your freedom isn’t repaying your debt. I think it’s understanding you never had one to begin with.”
His eyes widen and he steps back, the faintest of blushes spreading over his cheeks, but they both look at Kalim who stands next to Leona, smiling at both, completely oblivious. He’s so adorable, isn’t he?
Jamil scoffs. “I’ll see about that.” Yet, he can’t hide the smile forming on his lips.
They both then leave eventually and he still looks after them, Kalim rolling up his sleeves and raising his fist towards the ceiling, cheerfully exclaiming, “Let’s beat up some pirates!”, and yeah, some humans aren’t so bad at all. He dearly hopes Jamil sees it, too.
“Let’s go then,” Leona finally says, crossing the distance in but a blink of an eye, and he’s already way too comfortably seated on the floating carpet next to him, way too close, too. It immediately rises a bit, much to Vil’s dismay.
“Are we really doing this?”
“Absolutely.” He grins. Then nudges his head in Jack’s direction. “Meet ya at the ship, frosch.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
He can barely hear his words anymore, him and Leona taking off almost immediately and exiting with enough speed to make him feel dizzy within seconds. He really wonders which deity he offended to deserve all of this and decides maybe, just maybe when he’s back home, he’ll make offerings.
They leave the premises fast and it is with dread that Vil can watch the ground going further and further into the distance, them rising higher and higher, and oh god he never knew he would hate this as much as he does. It’s awful, dreadful, he doesn’t like it one bit. The wind is messing up his hair, strands sticking to his lips, too, and unintentionally, he apparently had grabbed onto Leona yet again.
“Slow down! You’re going too fast”
He feels like his voice is barely audible over the wind blowing around them; he doesn’t even dare looking down anymore lest he would feel even more sick, and he realizes heights are absolutely not his forte. Then again, he’s a mermaid, this whole concept is just so alien that he almost wishes to believe that he’s having some sort of very realistic nightmare.
Unfortunately, it is not.
And of course Leona dares to laugh. “Scared, fish boy? I’m not breaking any speed limit though, so…”
“Leona-”
“But I might consider it if you ask me nicely enough.”
There’s a part of Vil that wants to make good use of the dagger right away, but the fear of either falling or being stuck in the sky is greater than his desire to brutally murder this man right here and right now. He swallows hard, grip on Leona’s vest tightening when he vaguely sees the surroundings passing even faster.
That bastard-
“Please, Leona!”
He can hear the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them, hates himself just a little more for showing weakness, but at the very least it seems to help and they actually do reduce their speed, the air not as violently slapping his face anymore. He groans, shaking, leaning onto the other even more. But he’s relieved nonetheless.
“I could get used to hearing that.”
“I want to strangle you.” Leona laughs. He’s absolutely exasperated at this point with this man. He’s been acting so nice and friendly towards him all day, and this is what he gets in return? This man is rotten to the core.
He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that this ride will be over soon.
He’s still shaking, and he’s still afraid, but the tempo they’re going at is much nicer now; it actually doesn’t make him want to vomit, so that’s a nice plus.
However, when he feels an arm around his waist, pulling him closer, he blinks his eyes open once more to look up at the pirate. His hand is warm even through the fabric of the dress, and now being pressed against the other’s body, he can tell he generally is engulfed in a warmth that he’d almost describe as… calming, gentle.
He breathes deeply, grip ever so slightly loosening, and he feels like he can almost relax in the lackluster embrace, if one could call it that. It’s so bewildering however that Vil’s mind doesn’t exactly want to wrap around it. There has to be a reason for it, and yet he can’t quite figure it out, especially when the other is saying nothing and simply seems to smile to himself.
Swallowing, and he wants to ask, but he can’t bring himself to break the silence between them; from down below, he can hear voices and music and cheerful laughter from humans, and he wonders if he yet again misses an opportunity to find the person he is looking for.
But, what would the chances be?
He wants to look down at the city, but when he does, he only sees a blur of humans and immediately snaps back, leaning more into the strong body next to himself; clings to him more again and swallows hard, mouth dry, and he still finds that he can’t stand the height. But Leona holds him close, and maybe he’s not so bad after all.
Still, he is sure that the thumping of his heart is all thanks to the pure fear of falling. Nothing else.
“Leona,” he eventually gasps out, “Earlier…”
“Hm?”
“At the party, you looked like you were going to throw up. Is that why you lef-AH!”
What the hell?! Why did the carpet suddenly dip in height and shoot back up?!
“What? Sorry, I couldn’t understand you.”
… Vil finds his tone too mocking, but maybe he’s imagining things. “I was asking, at the party, why did yo- OoooH my god Leona! You’re doing that on purpose! Stop it!”
Again the carpet dips in height and this time he’s one hundred percent sure the other had done it on purpose! Hell, it’s written all over his face with that stupid grin on his lips-
“What am I doing on purpose?” His grin widens and oh someone help him, Vil wants to knock his teeth out. “Wanna repeat the question again?”
“So you can do this again?”
“Who knows? Then again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oh he absolutely detests that snide tone, and he again takes everything back about him not being bad. He’s awful, simply awful. Why can’t he be as sweet as Kalim? But no, he has to be a shit and ruin the mood over a simple question that Vil doesn’t even understand why it’s so bad to begin with.
He simply wants to know why his singing made Leona look like he was gonna throw up all over the carpet. Nothing more and nothing less.
He grumbles silently, but decides to not engage with that stupid man any more than he has to, aka holding onto him so he won’t fall off and end in a pool of his own blood. And yet, despite everything, the hand holding him in place feels reassuring, and he hates it.
Honestly, he thought he’d enjoy this more, but all in all this had been a disaster from start to finish. Passing out in that dreaded dress that still lingers at the bottom of Kalim’s pool, getting grappled by humans, and now this flight, he thinks if he wasn’t looking for someone, he’d be good on human cities for a good while. It had been quite the awful experience.
“About that song,” Leona interrupts his thoughts. “Can all mermaids sing?”
“So you get to ask me questions, but I don’t?” He retorts.
But Leona shrugs. “Don’t forget who’s controlling this thing.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re awful?”
“Yep, quite often.”
“Probably not enough,” Vil says and frowns.
“Maybe. So?” He seems keen on getting an answer, but it’s not like it’s some big mystery and also, he’s not a dick unlike Leona, so he decides to indulge him against better judgment.
“Hm.” Vil considers for a moment. “I don’t know every single merfolk in all the oceans of course. But generally speaking? Yes. Is everyone a good singer? Not really. I think the same goes for humans.”
“Fair enough.” He hums in thought. “So who’s the best singer?”
“The best? Me, of course.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“You made people attack you over it.”
He clicks his tongue. “Not my fault humans can’t appreciate good music.”
“Are there any others you’d consider good?”
What’s with all these questions? Vil can only frown at Leona.
“Sure. Epel is a good singer, and so is Rook. And… Neige, too. Why are you asking?”
These questions seem so oddly specific it makes Vil seriously wonder what is wrong with that man, and also whether he hit his head or not, because so far, he hasn’t shown any interest in socializing with Vil and now he’s basically asking him about his home? It’s just too strange for him to not be suspicious.
“No particular reason. I… heard stories about it, that’s all.” Vil titles his head questioning when Leona speaks. “Do you know a… purple mermaid? Like, hair and tail?”
“Purple?” What a strange question, again. “A few, yes. Not too well, since I’m in the palace of Pyroxene most of the time. Purple isn’t exactly the most common of colors amongst us. Epel has lilac hair and tail, but I doubt humans would have heard of him.”
“Ah.” Leona seems lost in thought, only nods. “Epel, huh.”
“I gave you many answers, so let me ask you in return why you left.” To Vil, it only seems fair, but Leona doesn’t react. His eye seems to wander over the ground and they lose height slowly. “Leona?”
“The ship’s already moving. We’re at our destination.”
“Hey! Don’t dodge my question again! Why did you--”
“Well,” and Leona holds his waist tighter, his other arm now hooking under his tail and completely ignoring him, “thank you for flying with Kingscholar carpet flights. This is where we get off.”
“Wait Leona, don’t tell me…”
“They say cats always land on their feet. Wanna test the theory?”
He’s hoisted up before he can even react, throwing his arms around the pirate’s neck, and the earlier dread settles in again only this time a hundredfold. Oh no. He’s not going to- No way. That’s insane. They’re still a good few meters above deck, and while it isn’t frighteningly high, it still seems way too irresponsible.
“Why aren’t we just getting down like regular people?!” he hears himself ask, but Leona laughs.
“I know how to fly a carpet, not how to stop it.”
Wait, what- Isn’t it a little too late to reveal this information to him now?! Couldn’t he have told him from the beginning? What is this insane man thinking! This is a scam!
“Leona, no, wait, don’t jump, don’t– Noooooo–!”
His cry might have been just a little bit too pathetic for his own liking when he feels the ground under them – albeit being a fucking flying carpet – disappear; he can do nothing but cling onto the pirate, squeeze his eyes shut and pray to the high heavens to not die-
A thump. A slight bounce. Yelling of familiar voices, and- They’re alive? He doesn’t even dare open his eyes. Insanity. Pure, sheer insanity. He is going to murder this man in his sleep one day or another and he will have fun doing so.
Leona’s voice rings in his ears like a curse, then. “Were you going to ditch me?”
“I wish. But nah, I heard the ruckus and collected everyone.” It’s Ruggie’s voice who sounds very satisfied with himself. “Jack told me you’d be coming like that, so we figured we’d make for a quick escape before anyone notices.”
“I’m not sure whether to be glad or be scared to have you as my vice-captain.” The doubt in Leona’s voice is clear as day, and Vil thinks if he had been in Ruggie’s position, he, too, would have loved to ditch Leona.
And surely, he'd love to hear Ruggie drill more into Leona. But he has something important to say. “I hate you.” His voice is hoarse now from yelling, but he still has enough energy to peel himself off the other, letting his death grip go, and instead smack his chest. “I hate you. So. Much.”
“Why are you always so charming?” Leona replies, toothy grin so awful Vil wants to wipe it from his face with a punch, but ultimately doesn't do it because he doesn't wanna get dropped to the floor. He's had one too many painful experiences this trip.
“Go die. And never, ever take me on a carpet ride ever again.”
Ruggie snickers. “Seriously, Leona. One trip and you've traumatized the poor guy for a lifetime and then some.”
Leona looks down, Vil looks up, their eyes meet and the other has the audacity to smirk at him. As if he can’t see the absolute disheveled state Vil is in, with hair everywhere and looking like he’s going to empty out whatever is left in his stomach.
“I think he had fun.”
“I did not.”
“You two get along really well, huh?”
One of those days, he would also love to slap Ruggie. Just once.
Chapter Text
While the tranquility after that storm of events settles in and is a nice change of pace, Vil silently laments that – despite everything they went through – Leona is still the same as before.
They had returned to the ship and the next thing he knew, the captain already dumped him back into the barrel to be left on his own devices.
The barrel, too, is the same as before, and while he knew for a fact that it couldn’t possibly have changed, there’s just a small part of him that wished that Kalim would have had the place redecorated in some capacity when having his men restock. Ah, but that’s really just wishful thinking on his part.
And, after the probably most uncomfortable night so far – having to take off a dress that stuck to his skin with wetness as if glued, dropping it onto the floor into a wet pile, and squeezing into the tiny space like an octopus in a pot – Vil thinks he’s definitely ready to retire at any given point, seeing how his back and neck cracks when he wakes up the next morning.
He does not feel relaxed and he at least somewhat would have wished for that man to be a little more mindful of his condition. But no, he just had gone straight to bed and fallen asleep within minutes despite protests.
This man’s skill to sleep is by far still the most impressive thing about him.
And so, his eyes follow him pacing up and down the room. There’s some sort of snack in his hand that he nibbles on while complaining about the dreadful taste, and Vil sees a bunch more on his desk neatly packed in a now opened box.
“You seem restless,” he eventually comments when he’s had enough of Leona walking circles. He’s slowly starting to get dizzy just from watching. “What’s wrong?”
However, the other doesn’t stop his stupid little walk. “Nothing,” he pointedly replies.
“Sure.” Vil titles his head, frowns. “Your ancestors would be turning in their graves if they heard your bad lying.”
“They’re already doing backflips at my actions as is.”
“So you admit to lying?” He asks curiously, but satisfied that his assessment had been correct.
“I’m thinking,” the other says.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
Leona grumbles. “What do you mean by that?”
But Vil shrugs. “Nothing in particular. I just heard it’s not healthy to strain your brain more than it can handle.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” He bites off some of the cracker in frustration and makes a face when he swallows. “Ugh. Why does Kalim keep bringing this shit onto my ship?”
“You ask that, and yet you’re still eating it. Yes, I’d say you are a very stupid man, in fact.”
The other stops for a moment, looks at him, then the cracker, and tosses the half-eaten, poor thing behind himself. It would have been almost amusing if not for the fact that it’s rather disgusting and wasteful. He then proceeds to take that box and sets it on the table next to Vil that now is rather full; bless Jack, by the way, for remembering his cosmetics that Kalim had gifted him and bringing them along when he escaped the palace.
“You can have them all. Come on, don’t be shy.” Vil isn’t so sure whether he wants to take him up on the offer, but he also doesn’t reject the ‘gift’.
“Why, thank you. How charming for you to dump your trash on me, it is appreciated.” He looks at them and they look as dry as can be. He’s not even sure he can swallow it safely. Clears his throat then and says, “So? What’s on your mind, captain?”
At least the other seems a little readier to talk when he thinks for a moment but eventually sighs. “We kinda painted a big target on our backs there. We need to hurry before those idiots catch on and follow us. While they stand no chance against my crew, I’d rather avoid relying on brute strength to fight anyone off.”
Vil hums in turn. “You know, there’s always still the possibility of—”
“-Returning you home? I think we’ve been over that a million times at this point.”
“Yes, yes. I get it, you need to present me to someone and then off we go again. Aren’t you so very selfless and charming for taking up this risk for someone else?” Vil chuckles lightly. “They must be special. Is it your lover back at home?”
Leona stares at him in mild disgust, surprisingly. “What? Ew, no. Ew. Hell no. I am going to show you to my brother.”
Oh. That actually catches Vil off-guard and his eyes widen. “Your brother?”
“Forget what I just said.” Suddenly his tone changes, the reply is fast and sharp. He’s not sure how to take this.
“It can’t be that bad, right…?”
“Mind your own business.”
It doesn’t seem like Leona is going to answer any more than this and it seems to be a sore spot indeed in the way he gets defensive immediately. Vil wants to probe a little bit more, but with the mood having turned this sour this quickly, he’d rather not poke the shark any more. Instead he lazily leans on the rim of his barrel, definitely missing the space of his last night in the pool, and curiously, wordlessly watches the other as he pointedly begins studying his map in an attempt to escape the conversation. As he always does.
That man really does like avoiding conversations he’d rather not have, and Vil already feels bad for any poor person that falls in love with him. With him, miscommunication surely is about to happen, and he can only but pity the unfortunate soul trying to get him to speak up about issues.
Vil himself, he hates men who can’t communicate their feelings. Why is it so hard to just tell someone if something is bothering you? There’s no way to improve on either side when neither know what they’re at.
He’s so lost in thought, he barely catches when the other speaks up again.
“You have a lover back at home?” He asks, and Vil blinks at him in surprise.
“Me?” And the strange questions continue. Why does he suddenly want to know more about him? But no, he does not feel like indulging in this man’s whim when he avoided his questions earlier. They’ve played this game one too many times. “That is classified information.”
“Means no?”
“Means I won’t tell you.”
Leona looks up again and their gazes meet. He’s silent for a moment, yet speaks up again. “Is it that Epel?”
“Wha- No.” Alright, this one question he will answer simply for the absurdity of it. “Of course not. That’s just outrageous. He’s the prince I’ve sworn to protect.” He hesitates because he’s known enough stories of bodyguards and princes or princesses falling in love, so he adds, “He’s like a little brother to me. A little brother that likes to get into trouble and go to the surface, apparently.”
Leona’s ears perk up at that and his eye widens slightly. “He likes to go to the surface?”
“Well, obviously. How do you think I ended in this mess?” Vil really isn’t sure where all of this suddenly is coming from. “If not for his little ‘expedition’, I wouldn’t have been caught in your net. He’s too reckless.”
“I see.” That’s all Leona says before he returns his gaze to the map, thoughtfully studying it and measuring things out. He wonders if he already gave the man too much information again, but there’s nothing to be done about that now, is there?
He sighs and turns to look out the window. Watches the sun burn mercilessly outside and the clouds pass by, and other than that, the day passes rather uneventful. He wonders how far Sunset Savanna is and how long it’ll take them to reach their destination.
Wonders, too, how long it’ll take to return home. With everything going on, he slightly doubts that they will be visiting many more cities, but he dearly hopes that there will be plenty more chances on their return trip.
Then again, there is just the tiniest voice in the back of Vil’s mind that tells him to not be too hopeful. As Jamil said, he can’t trust Leona.
He’s not sure whether he can trust his promise, either.
The next day, too, is so mind-numbingly boring that Vil barely is able to recall anything that happens aside from Leona leaving the cabin in the morning, just now and then popping back in to bring him food, and then leaving again, presumably to nap outside in the heat.
Another morning arrives. Today, Vil can’t see the sun rise for grey clouds are hanging low in the sky. There are droplets of water splattering against the windows and the ship is a little more rocky than usual, but other than that and Leona staying mostly inside, there’s nothing new. Same ship, same cabin, same barrel, same dreadful crackers. He has eaten some and he finds that this might be the only thing him and Leona agree on, for they are atrocious in taste and outright nasty in texture.
When Leona isn’t napping, he’s playing some sort of game by himself in the corner by a table. He moves tiny statues left and right, and if memory serves Vil right, he recalls having seen these kinds of figures in ship wrecks before. He’s focused to a point where he seemingly doesn’t even realize Vil is observing him, but that’s quite alright because he rather likes that serious expression on the man’s face.
Other than that, this day, too, is also spectacularly unspectacular.
It’s the fourth day when Jack finally reappears; from what Vil had heard, he was under deck and mostly recovering from the fist fight they had been in. It’s still a mystery shrouded in fog, but the more Vil thinks about it, the more it starts to clear up and make sense.
Thinking back, when he recalls those most affected by his singing, it had been humans with ‘normal’ ears. Then there’s Jamil, who had been entirely unaffected which he attributes to him being a snake shapeshifter. According to Leona’s testimony, he had only been somewhat affected.
So the theory in his head is that the less ‘animalistic’ someone is, the more prone they are to be affected by mermaid voices. It doesn’t entirely make sense, but somehow also it does. Since merfolk communicate with ultrasound since speech doesn’t travel well in waters, he figures human kin might just not be adapted to it, and thus their tiny little human brains are going feral over it.
He recalls Kalim calling it ‘hypnotizing’, and Vil thinks he’s onto something.
Aside from the outlier Jack who also had been entirely unaffected, it does make sense. Leona’s hearing definitely is better than that of regular humans from what he can tell, so he figures these animal ears pick up the wavelengths of sound differently than others. Maybe it’s just that wolves and lions are so vastly different that that’s where the difference is coming from.
Not that he knows for sure, but it’s a rather solid theory in his mind.
Ah, but Jack. Sweet Jack. He still looks roughed up and not all too good, but his black eye has at least faded somewhat. And he wears a smile on his lips for Vil, too, almost as if reassuring him he wasn’t that badly hurt. But he can still tell in the way his tail doesn’t really move and his shoulders are lightly slumped, that he’s not fully recovered yet.
There’s only hoping that Kalim is taking good care of Jamil who had taken the worst blow of the four of them. Then again, of course he would. How can Jamil even be so oblivious to the affections? Seriously, the way Kalim looks at him, talks about him, even a blind and deaf person can clearly tell that he’s more than a servant to him.
If they’re not at the very least an official couple the next time he meets them, he will punch some sense into both of them.
Some people are just meant to be together, and they’re one pair of those. And Vil wonders if he and that person, too, are meant to be. But he can’t know until he finds him again, until he finds out what happened to him, what he had become after all these years. If he’s still alive.
“Do you want to go outside?” Jack asks and effectively stops him from having depressing thoughts. He’s quite glad for it.
An acted smile, and Vil nods. “Yes, I’d love to. I’ve been holed up in this man-cave for way too long.”
He unceremonially gets carried outside and transferred into – one could have guessed it – yet another barrel, but he finds he rather enjoys the fresh air in comparison to Leona’s unventilated hellhole, so this barrel doesn’t seem all too bad all in all. Stationed in the shade but in a convenient place so he can watch over everything that is happening, it’s much more interesting than looking at a brooding lion any day.
“Jack,” he says and the other perks up, “You should go rest some more. You look exhausted.”
He clicks his tongue in reply and crosses his arms, a slight tint of red on his cheeks. “I’m fine.”
He says this almost as if Vil couldn’t tell from the way he had shakily carried him. What a stupid child. He shakes his head.
“Do not take this as me begging you to step down. However, I will tell you that it’s not weakness to understand when you need rest. There’s always a time and place to push yourself, and today is just not that day.”
Jack seems surprised, but also as if he drinks it all up. Nods, then. “I guess you’re right. I should rest up, then.”
“Now that’s a good boy. Be a darling and teach Leona some of your manners from time to time.”
They both chuckle and it seems like Jack’s spirits are really lifted now, so he feels rather accomplished for that. It’s only a small pay-back for the trouble he’s caused, but it’s better than nothing.
“I think that ship has sailed away long time ago,” the other jokes.
“You’re absolutely right. He’s a lost cause.”
They laugh for a bit until the younger one excuses himself, returning to under deck to probably sleep a little more. Usually Vil would dislike such kind of behavior, but knowing him and his personality, it really has nothing to do with laziness at all, unlike a certain other overgrown cat.
He hums to himself and watches the scenery pass by. In the far distance he can recognize some islands; close by, he can watch the crew working hard, cleaning and keeping the ship on track. They seem a lot less on edge and most leave him alone now, thankfully.
Mostly because those that do come close… Oh dear.
While it still is quite convenient to have these buffoons do however he pleases, he’d rather do without them coming close to him. He wants to enjoy his time outside while simultaneously preferably also enjoy the fresh air.
What can he say? Those men smell like alcohol and sex, lasting for a lifetime and then some. It’s dreadful. So, of course he sends anyone their merry way that dares approach him closer than two meters distance.
“What’s with the face yer makin’?”
It’s not someone he expected to come up to him, but also no one he minds. For now. Vil smiles as he looks over, seeing Ruggie flip a coin again and again. He seems to really like playing with those gold things too, he has come to realize. Actually, it’s rather rare for the smaller of the trio to strike up a conversation with him alone so he barely knows much more than that and his little snide remarks. It’s a welcome change.
“Wouldn’t you look at that? The little assistant has arrived.”
Ruggie furrows his eyebrows at that. “Assistant? Is that how you see me?”
Vil, in turn, smirks at that. “I could also call you handmaiden, if you’d prefer.”
“Neither is fine, thank you.” He sounds just a little irritated, but Vil is actually already having a good time.
“My apologies, oh great vice-captain.” He chuckles lightly. “As for your question, well. Can’t you smell that? Your boys stink.”
Actually, Ruggie sniffs a few times and then scrunches his nose in disgust. As if it hadn’t been apparent before.
“Yikes. You’re right. Is that why you keep sending them away?”
“Take a guess.”
Of course it’s a no-brainer, and Ruggie agrees. “Yeah, I’ll do something about that. The departure was sudden, and with the ship moving at full speed the past days they didn’t have time to take a little splash, ya know. Can’t blame them too much.”
But Vil only shakes his head. “Hygiene is of uttermost importance. I say, they should have never let it gotten this bad.”
“Do merfolks bathe?” The other asks in turn.
“Of course. Not like you humans, since we already live in the water, but… We do tend to ourselves. Unlike the men on this ship apparently. Then again, what to expect when their lazy captain barely manages to change his shirt between sleeping and walking around.”
Ruggie snickers. “You really have your own vendetta against Leona, dont’cha?”
“How could I not?” He sighs exasperatedly. “After everything that happened, I do believe I have every right to condemn the man and his actions. I do so wonder how he would survive without you.”
“Fair point,” Ruggie says, the compliment obviously making his grin widen. “I’d love to say he’s not such a bad guy, but that’d be a lie. On the other hand, he used to be so much worse.”
Oh, that is interesting. Vil leans on the rim of the barrel, expectantly looking at the smaller man with a glint in his eyes. “Now this sounds like a story. Pray tell, Ruggie. How long have you been a pirate?”
The other side-eyes him suspiciously and crosses his hands behind his head. At first, he doesn’t look like he wants to answer, but eventually he does.
“Twelve years, give or take. Only nine with Leona, though.” The answer is quite surprising.
“Oh, you must be joking. You barely look a day older than twenty-one.”
He snickers. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Nah, I’m twenty-six. To think I’ve spent over a third of my life with that guy…”
“I do not envy you,” Vil says, but smiles then. “That means we’re the same age though. That is quite the surprise. Then again, you act more mature than Leona, so it’s not too hard to imagine you’re older than I had anticipated.”
“Anyone acts more mature than him though,” he retorts with a grin.
“That is also very true,” and his smile widens.
Now that they’re talking, Vil finds it actually rather pleasant. Ruggie really appears to be more sensible than his captain and very easy to talk to. He quite enjoys the change of pace in how quick and witty he replies, and he also likes how much information he is obtaining in such short time.
“So, you’ve been with Leona for nine years? You said he changed. Color me curious, then.”
“Hm, let me think.” Ruggie hums thoughtfully. “Back then he was a lot more violent. Sounds crazy, but it is what it is. That’s actually how I got here in the first place. We tried to hijack this ship. Like, it’s pretty high quality and also big, right? But yeah, no. Jokes on us, he single-handedly handed everyone’s asses to them.”
“On his own?” Vil is just a slight bit in disbelief at that.
“You wouldn’t believe it nowadays with how he lazes around and just sleeps all day, but let me tell you, he was brutal. In our first years, we hijacked everything that couldn’t escape quick enough.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. That’s just how he rolled, I guess? Gee, he used to be such an aggressive bratty man. He’s still bratty, but I’m not gonna lie, not putting my life on the line every day for him is not so bad. I’d rather not lay my life down for a crazy man with weird obsessions.”
There’s something Vil notices in the way Ruggie’s tone changes ever so slightly; how he rubs his arm uncomfortably while avoiding to look at him, chewing his lips ever so slightly and Vil realizes he has said too much for his liking, but also created a rather large opening for Vil to attack.
“I agree, it would be rather the shame if you got hurt on one of these endeavors.” His voice is as gentle as the breeze in the wind, soothing to make the other feel more secure again. “So, why did you want to become a pirate? And why did he become one? It hardly seems like the most honorable of occupations. I know Jack has become one to provide for his family.”
The other snorts yet still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, definitely isn’t. But it pays well, and I guess in that sense I’m the same as Jack. It was the money that drew me in. For Leona… well. Family business.”
To think Ruggie would be so ready to spill the beans, it’s actually convenient. Who knew he’d make such an easy target?
“He mentioned something about his brother a few days ago. Is that the reason?”
“Mhm, you could say so.” Ruggie now moves a little closer, his voice lowered. “I’m shocked he even told you since he doesn’t like anyone mentioning it, let alone talk about it himself. He never really told me the reason why, but him and his brother had this real big falling out. Ran away and became a pirate.”
“He ran away? From Sunset Savanna? Does this mean you’re not from there?” he questions curiously.
“Meh, you really ask a lot of questions… It’s not like that, I’m from Sunset Savanna too. Though I didn’t grow up even remotely as pampered as him.”
“Oh.” Vil puts on the best frown he can muster on his face; his pitiful look not letting on that he is slowly pushing Ruggie the very exact direction he wants. “How awful. Surely, Leona does seem like the rather spoiled person, doesn’t he? Even here, when it’s you who keeps this ship afloat.”
“Right? That’s what I keep saying!” There’s a tiny, almost adorable pout on his lips. “I deserve a raise for all the trouble this guy is putting me through.”
“Ah, but speaking of trouble. Does this mean you never get to visit your home?” Vil carefully asks.
“I do. Leona though? Him and some of the crew tend to stay on an island close to Sunset Savanna while we’re going home like the selfish prick he is. Ya can’t even imagine how often I get asked about him by his family. They never gave a shit when my family was starving, but now that it’s about Leona they suddenly pretend to care. I hate rich people. Always playin’ me like a puppet for nothing but nickels.”
“Oh dear. That sounds like quite the hassle.” His eyes are glued to Ruggie who frowns now. “I assume this is why you wish to become rich by yourself? Ah, but Leona doesn’t look like the kind of person to pay you well enough so your family can live in luxury. In fact, he hardly seems to be the kind or person to understand the struggles you’ve gone through in your life.”
The smaller one twitches slightly. “That— … I guess you’re right. Back when we hijacked more ships, we had a lot more gold but he spent it all on crap like alcohol, and nowadays we barely make a dime. The trips ain’t worth it anymore and I miss my family, ya know?”
“Then, how long will it take until we arrive at this Savanna place?”
The other doesn’t reply straight away and instead reaches for his messenger bag to pull out a map, way smaller than the one Leona has but it suffices. He points at a blue part on the map.
“We’re here right now,” he explains. Then, taps a yellow-orange-ish place. “That’s Sunset Savanna. So as you can see, we’re like… a third of the way? A month maybe, depending on the weather.”
“Where did we even start?” Vil has no clue on how to read this funky little drawing at all. It looks like someone just splattered paint on paper to him.
“Over here,” and he taps a green part with little triangles on it. “That’s the Shaftlands.” His finger travels to somewhere on the blue, then. “This is roughly where we picked you up.”
“So that is where the kingdom of Pyroxene is located in this world… We truly have come far.” It’s really fascinating to see how large this world is when compared to the small space he has known his whole life. “But may I ask, why were you in our ocean to begin with?”
“Ah. Uhm,” he presses his lips into a thin line and scratches the back of his head. “You know when I said weird man with whacky obsessions? Yeah… Yeah.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“It’s hard to put in words, okay? Leona’s just a weird dude sometimes, doing weird things and dragging everyone into his mess.” Ruggie sighs in absolute exhaustion. “And guess who keeps having to save his sorry ass? Me, of course.”
“That’s very frustrating, isn’t it?”
The shift in the other’s posture is clear; all that is left to do now is to play his cards right and he has Ruggie in the palm of his hand.
“It is.”
“It’s so frustrating to always clean after Leona, too, right? Babysit him? Every time I see you doing something for him, I feel so very bad for you.” He looks at him now with wide blue eyes. “You do deserve so much better, Ruggie. I apologize for calling you his assistant earlier, for I didn’t recognize your struggles.”
“No, that’s…” He quiets down for a moment, eyebrow twitching and his eyes seemingly trying to find something, but there is nothing to find in Vil’s perfect, pitiful smile. “… I mean, you’re not wrong, but…”
“Does Leona praise you? Does he acknowledge the hard work you put into everything you do?”
It almost seems like the other instantly freezes, wide-eyed staring, swallowing. “… No…”
And Vil reaches out, hand gingerly touching the other’s forearm in a reassuring manner. “It’s okay, Ruggie,” he says in his calmest tone, “I’m sure he will recognize one day.”
Ah, this is entirely too easy, isn’t it?
“I have a suggestion for you, Ruggie.”
The ears that had been turned downward shoot up now and there’s a sparkle in his eyes that tells Vil everything is going as smooth as hoped.
“A suggestion?”
“An offer, in fact.”
“An… offer?”
Vil nods.
“You see, there are many shipwrecks on the bottom of the sea, and most of them are filled to the brim with those very gold coins you desire. I can get them for you.”
“What do you—” Ruggie doesn’t finish his question and stares at Vil in shock.
“It’s a no-brainer, isn’t it? There’s so much gold on the bottom of the sea, waiting only for you. Now that I’m here, I can go and get it for you.” His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his smile stretching just a little. “Can’t you hear it, Ruggie? It’s calling your name.”
“You’re bullshitting me.” He pulls his arm away from Vil’s touch and everything is going according to plan. “There’s no way there’s gold just for the nabbin’ at the bottom of the sea.”
“Do you think that it was a coincidence I was wearing a lot of jewelry when I first got on board here?” It takes the other aback and his tiny little brain seems to finally put in some work. “We have so many of these stupid little coins, we don’t even know where to put them. Sometimes we just dump them in crates. They mean nothing to us… But to you, they do.”
“Ha. I won’t fall for that. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Vil puts on the friendliest smile he can muster. “Of course not, or else you wouldn’t be the person I’m proposing this trade to. I would never suggest this to Leona. But you? I think you are able to make a sensible choice here.”
Ruggie hesitates. “… You want to trade your freedom for gold?”
“Oh, no, of course not. Are you crazy? Leona would kill you. Of course I will return to the ship before the sun is gone. I simply wish to take a dive and enjoy the waters; these barrels are killing me.”
Just like prey, Ruggie is walking directly into his trap. “What if he finds out?” He asks unsure.
“He won’t if you put in some work, too.” He chuckles. “Also, I presume he is currently sleeping, so he might even be none the wiser when I return before he wakes up.”
He’s quiet, thinking. Then speaks silently, “I’m not sure about this, ya know. I mean gold is nice and all, but… Backstabbing my boss is kinda meh…”
“Are you worried about betraying him? I say, it’s only a short swim. I wouldn’t even know how to return to Pyroxene without your assistance. Come on, Ruggie. Think about your family – this will be far more than Leona has ever given you. Won’t you take the gamble and trust me? Don’t you want Leona to say, ‘I’m impressed, Ruggie, you made a really good deal with the merman!’?”
He swallows, crosses his arms. “… Alright, I’ll help you out. Three treasure chests, filled to the brim.”
“And which third arm am I supposed to use? Trust, we merfolks surely are different from humans, but I cannot grow another limb. Half a chest it is.”
“Ha? Are you trying to low-ball me now? Half a chest won’t even feed one mouth for a year. Two chests, then.”
“You do drive rather the hard bargain, I see. But oh, how cruel. How can you expect a slim person like me to carry so much? One chest, filled all the way to the top so even the lid barely closes, and it’ll be all yours. Deal?”
“Deal!”
The boy stretches his hand out and with a satisfied smile on his lips, Vil gleefully takes it and shakes on their trade. How utterly, adorably foolish. But by no means does he intend to flee despite the ever-growing desire, for there is something of far greater value to be achieved: The trust of the vice-captain.
Vil is no idiot. Ruggie might not see it himself and it does play into his cards that Leona is as expressive with affections as a rock, but he knows the captain is rather fond of his companion. Using him might prove useful in the future, there’s no way he will let this chance pass by.
After all, if Ruggie trusts him – and by any means, Vil has found out how easy he is to manipulate – he is sure that using him to make Leona do things will be only child’s play.
He is pretty satisfied. It’s almost unfair how Ruggie gets the short end of the stick on this deal, selling his soul for a few stupid coins, but there’s also no reason for him to care more than a slight twinge of pity.
“Hurry, I can only keep them distracted for so long,” he says.
Vil nods. “Of course I will, boss number two,” he adds with almost a mocking tone that still serves to make Ruggie snicker.
When the other trots off and assembles everyone in a way they’re not facing his direction, he lifts himself out of the barrel – after all, all this exercise daily has to amount for something, right? – and as silently as possible, he lets himself down on the floor. Crawls along the wooden floor stealthily, and before he heaves himself over the railing, he shoots Ruggie one last glance.
He falls into the water, the cold embracing him immediately, and for the first time in long he feels like he can finally breathe again. Taking in everything, oh how he had missed the wide seas. No pool in this world can compare to the sheer bliss of moving freely, his fins dancing in the drafts, he almost feels ecstatic, drunk on the rush of moving up and down and left and right with no restrains.
He can stretch, roll his neck; he feels free for the first time in way too long. The currents are carrying him, the weightlessness making him feel at home, and he can’t help himself but let himself get carried away if only for a moment or two.
Would the person he’s looking for take a swim with him as well? Would he watch him? It’s too thrilling to even think about it, his heart is pounding. A stranger he met once, and yet cannot get out of his head. He will find him, he’s sure. He hopes that that person will appreciate he’s the reason Vil isn’t escaping right now – he should feel honored, in fact.
And down he goes further, passing swarms of fishes; the corals below shimmer in different colors, stretched over rock formations, and it makes him feel just a little at home. The ship wrecks too, covered in algae and dirt, home to many small fishes barely the size of his hand, feel so familiar it warms his heart. He remembers fondly how him, Rook and Epel would go out to discover them.
How are Epel and Rook? Ah, Rook would probably be proud at the perfection of his act earlier. He wonders, misses them both oh so dearly. Ah, how he wants to return, take Rook’s hands and dance, have singing lessons with Epel again, perform in front of an audience, and he’s sure with all this newfound experience, he will have become even better than ever before. Thinks that Neige should be on guard next time they meet, too.
But he knows he promised Ruggie to hurry up, so there’s not too much time to think about Pyroxene and his life before being kidnapped, about the what-ifs and everything beyond; having been inside these broken ships one too many times, he finds his way around pretty easily.
It doesn’t take long to find the hidden treasure.
And as nice as this dive is, he sets his sight on returning quick.
“You did what?!”
Leona’s roar can be heard across the entirety of the ship; he doesn’t care, everyone should know how absolutely fucking pissed he is right now. Knuckles already turning white, and he’s gripping Ruggie’s collar just too tight. The smaller one squirms, feet not even touching the ground anymore, and he’s really fucking ready to smash his face in.
“Calm down, Leona!” The boy yelps like the miserable little mutt he is, and Leona growls in return. “I can explain! I can- I really can explain!”
His desperate attempt to bring him down only riles him up more, hairs standing on end, it takes his entire self-control to not bash his teeth in.
“You fucking let that merman go?! Are you insane?!”
It’s been entirely too long since he felt like this the last time, and it does take him a few years back, but he doesn’t care. He wants this assface to understand just what a major fuck-up he had just done. The younger one whimpers, hands clutching onto his arm, and he’s gasping.
“Leona, let me down!” His whining is so pathetic it makes him want to spit in his face. “Please, I can’t breathe like this!” And his legs kick a little more.
His whole body shakes in anger. He can’t believe this little piece of shit really just let his one way to freedom go, as if the past ten years had amounted to nothing.
“So, what did he offer you? Are you secretly lovers and you did him a favor?” His voice turns sour, he clenches his teeth. That’s why Vil didn’t tell him who his lover is, huh?
But Ruggie instantly rejects the notion. “Nothing like that! Gold, he said he’ll bring gold and come back, really, we shook hands on that—”
“Do you fucking think a stupid fucking fish cares about your handshake? He’s probably already on his merry way!” He throws Ruggie back now, the smaller one coughing and holding his throat like the pathetic little hyena he is, and Leona growls more. Stepping closer, and he tries to crawl away backwards.
The other men are simply standing around them, watching in fear – as they should – all wet and drenched like the idiots they are. He can’t believe everyone has been played for a fool by a stupid mermaid bitch. He himself, too, how Ruggie had tried to distract him from the fact that their most prized possession is currently taking a nice fucking stroll in the sea.
Honestly, there’s part of him that doesn’t even want to acknowledge this as a fact that Ruggie had seriously tried to fool him, leading him around on the ship and acting like Leona wouldn’t notice a wet trail from a barrel to the railing? His hands are already balled to fists and he’s ready to throw a punch when someone steps between them.
Of course it has to be Jack.
“Get out of the way, frosch. This has nothing to do with you,” he threatens, but the other doesn’t move.
“Captain, let’s wait.”
He raises an eyebrow and his jaw tightens. “And who are you to order me around?”
“Vil will come back. If he promised it to Ruggie, he will.”
He’s too calm for Leona’s liking, especially when he is angrier than he has been in a long time. And he steps closer, but the other doesn’t flinch back even the slightest bit. It pisses Leona off just the more.
“Get. Out. Of. The. Way.” He scoffs. “This is between Ruggie and me.” He does not have to listen to this nonsense.
But Jack stays strong, crossing his arms protective in front of himself, taking a stance. “I’m not going to let you pass!”
“Like you can stop me.”
How arrogant. Who does he think he is? Cute little pooch thinking he can stand in his way? Challenge him? Fine by him. Leona spits on the floor, footsteps heavy. He’s directly in front of Jack now who braces himself, but even he can’t withhold when Leona grabs his arm with one hand and tosses him aside like a wet rag.
Everyone gasps and Jack groans when he impacts. He looks after him and his eye is nothing but a slit, looking down at the newbie like he’s trash. Which he is, for standing in his captain’s way.
And the shock over having been hurled a few meters is apparent on his face, too, not having considered that despite his attitude, Leona does have the muscle to back himself up. He doesn’t like to use brute strength, but that doesn’t mean he can’t.
He reaches Ruggie then, still sprawled out on the ground, and his foot comes down on him heavily, stepping on his chest forcefully, making him gasp out loud.
“Ah!” And he squirms more, to no avail. “Leona, stop- You’re hurting me!”
“I should have your head for this.” His foot presses down more, and the other yelps helplessly.
“Please—” His begging is becoming annoying real quick. “Let’s- Let’s wait at least some?”
Jack has the audacity to chime in from behind as well. “At least until sunset!”
He turns and glares at the young one who in turn swallows, apparently remembering the way he had just been handled. It hadn’t even remotely been his full strength either.
“If you don’t- ah- trust Vil, at least—” Ruggie claws at his leg desperately. “At least trust me!”
He growls deep, staring at the one beneath his foot, squeezing one blue eye shut in pain and, ah. He remembers this sight from long ago when they first met. It had been like this, too, hadn’t it? Stupid little hyena, all hurt and desperate on his ship, the only survivor and begging for his life.
Back then he had not only taken pity on him but also nursed him back to health despite himself. It’s been so long already, huh? He really wants to kick his face in, but when he looks at that helpless little fool, he can’t find it in himself.
He’s really gotten soft over the years.
His anger is still there, but rationality slowly takes over, pushing the fury in his mind aside. Trust him. Just like how Ruggie had trusted him as well all these years. And he knows, deep down, that without him, he wouldn’t be where he is today.
Anger still wells inside his stomach, but rationality takes over.
“Fine.” He exhales long, inhales deep. “Sunset it is. If he isn’t back by then, you’ll personally go looking for him.” It’s not just a threat, it’s a promise.
Ruggie seems to want to say something as he lifts his foot off the petite body, but doesn’t get to it when one of his men suddenly says,
“Uhm, boss? I think we have unannounced visitors…”
First he looks at him, then towards where he’s pointing at and – fuck, yeah that’s definitely a ship coming straight towards them. It’s huge; so huge, in fact, that he would’ve thought it’s a merchant’s ship on first glance. But he knows their flag, and he definitely knows they’re more trouble than they’re worth.
Fuck.
“Why was no one on look-out post?!” He yells, but everyone just stares at him. Then, they look down.
Ah. Right. He’s currently chewing down the guy who was supposed to be up there in the first place. Makes sense.
He clears his throat. “… Well.” His eye wanders around and he steps away from Ruggie. “Let’s give them a warm welcome on our ship then.”
He knows with their anchor down and sails pulled up, there’s no way they can make a quick escape – aside from the fact that they’re still waiting for a certain someone to return. At least his men don’t seem all too bothered by it, motivated as they are.
“Aye, aye, captain!”
They haven’t even finished screaming before they already hurry off to grab their weapons; Leona, too, makes his way to his room to get his sword and thinks that this is one hundred percent the mermaid’s fault. He still can’t believe the guy had taken advantage of Ruggie like that, and if he comes back, he’s sure to-
To what?
There’s a part of him that wants to slap him right across the face and lock him in the smallest barrel he can find, but there’s also a part that just… wants him to be back, no matter what. And he can’t explain it, how could he when he’s still angry and— disappointed?
He knows he shouldn’t be. He hasn’t treated Vil stellar at all. And yet, thinking he might’ve just left without as much as a goodbye, it’s… not a comfortable thought to think about.
Pushing the stupid mental image aside, he makes his way back outside.
“Well, well. Who do we have here?” The other ship is already close enough that he can just call out.
As much as he hates to admit it, they really had taken the perfect timing to fuck him over; he knew they shouldn’t have stopped when only four days away from Scarabia, and he also had known that they would be chased, but what’s done is done. A fight it is.
“If this isn’t my friend Kingscholar. I heard you’re loading some very valuable goods this time around?” The other man replies with a grin, then turns to his own crew. “Boys, get ready to board enemy vessel!”
There’s nothing to be done about the situation now, but that doesn’t mean he will just let it happen. When they throw their first hooks, he doesn’t even have to order for them to be cut. But there’s so many more that by the time they removed the first ones, seconds and thirds are already hooked on the railings.
He’s no stranger to this; in their position, the only way to get out is to fight. And as expected, the first enemies are already jumping across the gap between their ships, boarding his with weapons at the ready. Planks follow, too, and more men come over.
The first idiot attacks him straight away. Leona doesn’t even hesitate one second before counterattacking, effectively stabbing the man’s abdomen. What fool would directly attack the captain? Seriously, the guts some have.
“Damn, you’re really serious about this, huh?” He calls over; the other captain is still comfortably on his ship like a fucking coward. Leona hates those kinds of people the most.
But the man only laughs. “Of course! I never thought you’d expose yourself so easily, you know?”
Hm, now that Leona thinks about it, he thinks he’s heard this voice only recently. He doesn’t remember talking to anyone but Jamil and a former lover at the party though, so why…
Oh. Yeah right, he does remember. “You’re the guy who said he wanted to steal the mermaid?” He asks and the guy laughs harder, nodding.
“Surprised you heard us and still ran away with your tail tucked between your legs!”
Leona wants to shrug in turn but ends up having to dodge another attack, their swords clashing when the opponent doesn’t back off.
“You see, here’s the thing,” he says loudly while pushing the other man in front of himself away, “We don’t have a mermaid on our ship. Tough luck, buddy.”
“You tell yourself that, Kingscholar. Attack, guys! Kill them all and bring me the mermaid!”
Leona wants to roll his eye at that; he knows he pulls a lot of crap outta his ass and lies his way through life, but the one time he tells the truth, and it’s not even appreciated? Unbelievable.
The thing that pisses him off about this situation literally isn’t even being attacked, or outnumbered, or that that shitface of a captain mocks him, no. It’s that he’s telling the fucking truth and this whole fiasco could be avoided if one single person decided to listen to him and just say, “you know what? You’re right Leona! We will just leave!”
Another man’s head rolls; from the corner of his eye, he sees his crew fend for themselves just as well as he does. They might be fewer in numbers, but their training and natural skills are a great aid in defending the ship.
It gets confusing quick with masses of men mingling and fighting, blood spreading over the entirety of the deck, and more than once Leona gets attacked from his blind side. Cruel but not unusual, and he’s glad for his hearing so he can avoid lethal blows. A small cut, but that’s as wounded as he gets in the mess his ship is. Metal against metal, screams, the notorious sound of human bodies falling into water, at least he hadn’t seen his own men going overboard.
And again, his sword slices through a man’s neck easily, blood splattering over wet wood. “Put yer backs into it, ya wankers!” he can hear the other captain call in the distance like the coward he is, “Go for Kingscholar until he tells us where the mermaid is!” like that was gonna change anything. He scoffs, taking a step back, two, his sword meeting others, until he reaches the railing.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he yells back and kicks one of his attackers so hard the guy stumbles and falls flat on his ass; the other gets punched in the face so hard he’s reeling over, it gives Leona a moment to turn around and look at the other captain. “We don’t have a–”
The words die in his throat as his eye wanders down to the surface of the water quickly. Originally intended to confirm none of his men was down there between the two ships, he can barely believe when his eye spots… blonde. And purple. And two big eyes staring up at him.
“… a mermaid on… board…”
“It’s the mermaid!”
What the hell. What the actual fuck.
This has to be the absolute worst timing in history.
And Leona knows he’s not the only one who saw Vil just casually hanging out between a bunch of drifting corpses, judging from the way the other guy had screamed out, almost doubling over his own railing in excitement.
“Cease the fighting and get him! Quick!” the guy proceeds to scream and there’s almost a rush of men running to one side of his ship to the point the whole thing titles dangerously. Ooh’s and Aah’s, and it almost feels like those guys didn’t even believe the mermaid thing was real until now, but he can’t exactly blame them.
Leona, too, can only wordlessly stare down at Vil who, in turn, stares up like a deer caught in headlights. All of this is such a mess to the point where Leona can’t even feel relieved over seeing him simply because of the situation, because of his ship tipping, because of corpses on his deck all for the guy who looks like he took a nice Sunday afternoon stroll in the sea.
“You! Mermaid! You are mine now!” the other guy has the audacity to proclaim and honestly it just sounds so ridiculous in this moment that it makes Leona look up and frown at the guy who excitedly leans on the railing. “You are coming with me! Don’t even resist!” he yells even louder.
And Vil? He just shrugs.
“Fine by me.”
Answers in his fake fucking voice, too, as if to mock Leona. He’s sure Vil damn well knows who this guy is from the party. Leona’s jaw almost drops. He should have known Vil would be ready to leave him, sure, but this willingly? No fight? Seriously?!
“You can’t be serious,” Leona presses out, still bewildered by everyone just standing still, staring, his crew on the other end of the ship making sure it doesn’t tip over after all, and this all seems just so alien that Leona wonders if he’s actually still asleep. Out of everything he ever witnessed as a pirate, this … is rather unexpected.
Besides the fucking audacity of that half-fish?!
“Ah, but I am serious. You are nothing but irritating, Leona,” Vil says, his tone seems calm and leveled as if he’s not currently looking at two pirate crews fighting as he swims in a pool of blood that taints his pale skin red. “Are you really surprised I want to go with someone else?”
The question, as well as the sheer lack of emotion in his voice, shocks the captain; it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t, but he’s taken aback. Speechless. Part of him wanting to tell him to get lost then, fuck off with another guy if he thinks he’s so much better, but the rational part of him screaming that this is definitely not the time to be stupidly jealous over nothing.
This is nothing, right. A mission to bring a mermaid to Sunset Savanna. Nothing more. Nothing to be upset about. Right, great, glad he could get that in his head once more. Yeah.
It seems Vil picks up on his silence while the other captain laughs at his misery. “Why are you shocked?” Vil asks, and it takes everything in Leona to not snap at him, and he doesn’t know why, and it infuriates him. He hates not knowing why he feels the way he feels. He’s angry at not knowing why he’s angry.
“Shut up,” he simply replies, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Hands balled to fists at the side of his body, teeth gritted, and helpless inside. “Just shut up.”
“Haa?” It’s hard to tell anything besides Vil’s facial expression and tone; body fully submerged and obscured, eyebrows furrowed and a light pout on his lips, he looks irritated but in a strange way also not, and it’s hard for Leona to put his finger on it. “If you don’t want to hear me, you better cover your ears! I’m not about to shut up, you can’t order me around!”
“Are you trying to argue with me now?!” Leona retorts and he doesn’t know why. It feels wrong.
“I’m not, that’s why I’m telling you to cover your ears!” This time, Vil does actually sound a little bit annoyed.
“She doesn’t wanna be with yer, Kingscholar! Everyone, let down a ladder or net so we can pull her up! Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll treat’cha better than he does!” the other captain calls, and it almost makes Leona gag in the way he tries to sweet-talk Vil of all people.
Right. Poor guy, if only he knew what a pain in the ass Vil was. He surely wouldn’t want him.
… Wait, again, that’s not the point! He can’t just nab the mermaid from him!
But just as Leona moves forward again, looking down, he can see Vil actually swimming a bit backwards; he seems rather slow, and it puzzles Leona immensely, after all he’s seen how fast the guy can swim in a pool, but right now he seems to be struggling to even keep his head above water.
This whole situation is so bizarre that he can’t make head or tails of it. At all. Vil’s purple eyes locked on him, lips moving but no words coming out and he seems to be mouthing something.
But how is Leona supposed to understand with waves of salty water continuously crashing against a face reddened by strain?
And then he’s moving further and further away?
“Hold up, where do ya think yer going!?” the other man calls out, finally catching onto it as well, and the general confusion that the merman is causing with his actions throw not only Leona in for a loop.
Until it isn’t confusing anymore, when the blonde opens his mouth again, but no words leave his lips; only sound, and it’s that instant that Leona understands. He understands that his actions were meant for everyone to let their guard down.
He understands that, when Vil said he should cover his ears, he meant it literally.
It’s almost too late, hands shooting up to hold his lion ears flat against his skull; just like before, when the first notes hit him, he feels this almost magnetic pull, but once it’s dulled by his hands, he realizes it’s not so bad. Turning, and he can see his own crew already standing with their ears covered.
Ruggie’s knowing grin tells him that the little rat has been onto it for far longer than he has been, and damn does it make Leona feel like a fucking idiot.
What happens then is – and there is no other way to describe it – absolutely bizarre. Insane, even.
When he sees eyes widening, jaws dropping. Vaguely he can hear those men yelling, muffled, and have they been immobile before, they now aren’t anymore. One after another, and it’s so strange that Leona can’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle, each of them jumping off the ship into the water.
Uncaring.
Unrestrained.
Swimming further, further, yet not far enough; a captain helpless among them, hands, arms, legs moving frantically, and the ship empties out save for his own men; one after another, pushing each other, heads underwater, desperation; bubbles of air from those who weren’t strong enough for the fight;
Hypnotized?
And none who disappeared under the surface of the sea emerging back up;
Scary.
Like their minds are poisoned; mad men, frantically trying to reach what they can’t have;
until
there is
no one
left
to swim.
Dying.
And Leona swallows hard.
Because there is a part of him that had wished he would have never seen the calculating smile on purple lips and the knowing glint in those eyes.
Because there is a part of him that would have wished for nothing less than knowing Vil is perfectly capable of murdering as many people as it takes, and yet not having killed him yet.
Because there is a part of him that wonders what else this beautiful man is capable of.
But mostly, because he knows what it feels like to drown.
A few steps are taken back. Silence ringing in his head, nothing even when he lifts his hands from his ears. No more song. No more enemies. No more splashing in the water in desperation.
No more-
“Care to pull me up?”
A familiar voice tears through the silence like a knife through flesh; the words make no sense to him, but apparently to Ruggie and Jack they do, both quickly moving to throw down the net with which they had captured Vil once before already, a long time ago.
It feels strange to watch, stranger to hear his voice call out “You can pull now!”, strangest to see the two of them struggling with the weight apparently. And out of instinct, yeah, he moves to help pull on that net that he knows has a certain merman in it.
It’s so freaking heavy that in the end, it takes all of them to pull, pull, pull until a blonde mermaid is revealed, sitting on top of the net, sitting on top of something wooden. Sitting like the fucking queen of the Savanna on a throne, perfect posture, poised.
And then he smiles. Tucks a strand of wet hair behind his ear like he always does, and it’s such a simple gesture that Leona almost forgets how to breathe.
Moves to sit on the railing as the men pull in a chest and Leona doesn’t care, can’t tear his eye away from amethyst ones, deep with eyeshadow and moisture from the sea, skin pale and shining in the sun, he looks like he’s made of glass, of porcelain,
Leona can’t hear his men yelling about gold. Can’t care. It’s a background buzzing when he realizes he went to hell and back and then some and in the end, Vil returned to him.
What a foolish man he is.
This is nothing. Just a mission to show a mermaid to his stupid brother, because his stupid brother wouldn’t believe him when he told him he was saved by a mermaid. This is nothing, because he’s going to ditch Vil back in Sunset Savanna and never return.
This is nothing
“You’re back.”
And his throat goes drier when Vi l replies,
“Yeah, I’m back.”
And he feels someone grabbing his arm and pulling him and finally, it feels like the spell is lifted, the noise hits him in one go, the yelling, the cheering, it’s Ruggie who pulls him to a chest full of gold as if his treasure isn’t somewhere else. Boasts that he was right, and Leona can just nod.
Glances back to Vil and sees him still sitting there. Smile on his lips and he even gives him a little wave.
And no matter how many times he takes his eyes off the blonde just to look back, he’s still there.
Leona hates how he can feel his pulse all the way in his throat. It’s the adrenaline for sure, he tells himself, and yet it won’t go away even long after the fight has ended. After everyone had drowned. After they had won not only without any causalities, but also with a treasure and some gold.
“I think that calls for a party. What do you guys say?” He finally says.
“Aye, aye, captain!!!”
Vil is rather satisfied.
Tired, yes. Extremely so, since he hadn’t thought saving a ship would be added to his to-do list of the day while holding onto a really freaking heavy chest, but hey. It’s as they say.
Complaining costs you nerves, saying ‘It is what it is’ is free.
So, it is what it is.
He watches the men scramble to get the ship back into motion after looting whatever they can find on the other ship and setting it ablaze, and he finds he doesn’t mind the movement of the ship, unlike the first time he left the ocean – albeit unwilling – to live amongst humans for the time being.
There is something to be said about the way Leona had looked at him earlier, but he’s quite frankly still unsure what. The way he had held his gaze, how he had said ‘you’re back’, the words still echo in his head. He doesn’t want to name it, but he feels warm and content when seeing that green eye flicker in the sun.
Part of him, yes, he’ll admit that, wanted to truly leave. But the other part of him is glad he didn’t when he catches the lion’s quick looks, as if checking that he’s still there. Even when transferred back into the barrel – and Vil finds with delight that the water has been changed – he still now and again turns his head his direction.
It doesn’t feel overprotective or angry.
It just is.
Crew members are bringing up more food than usual and other barrels that are closed and smaller. Others are setting up a metal place and piling wood on it. Others seem to be taking care of seating around the piled wood and everyone seems in this very festive mood now. Is it the gold? Is it not getting killed?
Vil can’t tell, but he finds the mood is rather contagious.
It takes all of him to not hum along when he hears the sailors sing merrily, but having gotten the confirmation that his singing indeed was the cause of the issue at Kalim’s place and that it truly seems to have an effect on humans beyond his current comprehension is a soothing thought, because he now knows that if comes down to it, he has one last resort, one last secret weapon against humans.
There is no need for it now.
The sun goes down and just as he can never grow tired of the myriad of colors the sunset gifts the world with, he will not grow tired of the funny and weird antics the humans present him. Pulling his barrel close to the celebration as they light the wood. It gets hot, it’s bright, and Vil has never seen such a thing before.
Beautiful, how these little, shiny things seem to fly away from the large bright thing, doused in blue and red and orange like the sunset. It’s nothing he has ever seen before, especially this up close; he wants to touch it, but when he reaches out his arm gets grabbed and he stops in his track.
“You shouldn’t touch that,” a familiar voice says and he smiles at Jack. “You’ll get burned, and trust me, that hurts,” he continues to explain. Vil nods.
“A pity. It’s fascinating. What is it?”
“Fire,” Leona chimes in and Vil looks past Jack’s board body to see the lion lazily lounging on a few pillows from his room.
“How can you not know what fire is?” another crew member asks, it draws a scoff from Leona’s lips.
Ruggie snickers and replies sarcastically, “ever seen a fire underwater?”
And they all laugh; and even while Vil doesn’t understand what is so funny, he still smiles along, because again, the mood is rather infectious. They all seem without a care, some having pierced fish with sticks and holding them over the fire, others emptying one pint after another.
It's night, the stars scattered over the sky like a protective blanket, but it’s not unlit, for the fire illuminates the darkness; this, more than anything ever before, reminds him of home. Of fluorescent plants lighting up as the sun disappears. However unlike under the sea, the shimmer is orange rather than blue and green and warm, hot even.
And Vil wonders, if only for a moment, whether they will have a celebration as well when he returns home.
“Not enjoying yourself?” The question makes Vil tear his gaze from the fire and avert his eyes to Leona who talks with half his mouth full. So rude, he notes, but lets it slide since he looks relaxed for once. A welcome change, a treat for sore eyes.
“I am. This…” he gestures vaguely, “… is just very different from home, I guess.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, very much so.”
Leona’s ears perk up and he swallows whatever is in his mouth, finally sitting up. He still has to crane his neck up to look at Vil and it’s obvious it’s bothering him. And so, the man gets up and walks to his barrel, not so gently grabs him and lifts him out of it.
Vil can hardly struggle before he’s out of the water already and dragged over to where the lion had previously been. Dumped on a cushion, and he’s not sure whether to be intrigued by the sudden action or annoyed.
“What do you think you’re doing, you brute?” he complains, but the other simply shrugs.
“It’s annoying to look up to talk to you. C’mon, don’t be a loner, Vil.” And so he sits back down next to him, completely ignoring not only the way everyone is staring at them now, but also how they are sitting shoulder to shoulder just so both fit the pillows. Mostly. “So, how’s it different?”
It takes the merman a little by surprise to be asked about his home yet again, like Leona is trying to make friendly small talk. So strange in fact that Vil doesn’t reply at first, frowning and trying to find any sign of mockery on handsome features.
But no such luck, the only thing he finds is Leona smelling like a fool and grinning like one as well.
He sighs.
“We, uhm,” he doesn’t even know where to start, to be frank. When he looks at a bunch of pirates dancing and singing without restraint, one or two shirts already tossed aside, none of them hitting a single note… “Well, I can only speak for parties in the palace,” he begins, just a tad unsure, “as you can figure, there’s mostly royalty and nobles. I think you can compare it more to Kalim’s party yet also… not? It just, it’s a lot of political talk. I prefer not to engage and simply perform.”
“You perform?”
“I did tell you I’m a performer. Aside from protecting Epel, of course.”
Leona nods, and Vil is unsure just how much of what he explains will stick. It feels like a waste to go into further detail. He sighs once more and slumps his shoulders if only for a moment; however, when the other reaches for his drink again, Vil decides on a whim to snatch it right from his grip.
“What is this?” he asks, carefully eyeing the dark liquid.
“It’s ale. You can have some,” the other simply replies, leaning back apparently unbothered by the fact that his drink had just been stolen. He seems to be rather giddy, Vil notes.
However, who is Vil to reject such a nice offer? He can definitely tell that this is what everyone is drinking, very happily so, and it’s something he’s never had before. Frankly, it doesn’t smell too nice, but he’s not one to judge a book by its cover, right?
And so he takes one, two, three big gulps; a fourth, and he puts down the vessel, coughing at the bitter taste flooding his mouth. He scrunches his nose, holds his chest, and oh god is that awful, disgusting even. “It’s so bitter,” he presses out between coughs and feels Leona hitting his back gently until his lungs calm back down again. “Ew, how can you drink this? It’s so dreadful!”
“It’s good once you get used to it,” the other explains with a smirk, warm hand still not leaving Vil’s back and there’s part of him that doesn’t want him to retreat it either.
“I’d rather not,” he replies, but when their eyes meet, staring at each other for just a moment too long, he can’t suppress a light chuckle. “What? Stop looking at me, idiot.”
Leona, too, laughs silently. “Eh? Who are you calling an idiot? Ain’t me who just emptied half the pint and then says it’s gross. Are you sure you don’t like it secretly?” He jokes, and Vil gently hits his side.
“I don’t, I told you.” He feels really warm, somewhat lightheaded. A little dizzy, and leaning a bit more against the other’s body doesn’t seem too much of a bad idea now. “I’m just- it’s rude to—”
“Are you already drunk?”
“Says the drunk one. Of course I’m not.” As if Vil would know what being drunk feels like to begin with.
All he knows is that he rather likes when the other’s hand makes its way further around his waist, fingertips ever so carefully tracing patterns of scales and his hip bones; it comes to a rest and feels like burning his side where it lays flat on his skin. It complements the warmth pooling quickly in his stomach quite well.
“Sure you’re not. You only had a little sip and your face is already red. Can’t hold your liquor?”
He’s being teased, but Vil takes the bait despite himself. “Am not. And I can. Watch me,” and he reaches for the mug again, but this time his hand is being stopped. “What now?”
“I don’t think you should have more,” Leona laughs and Vil frowns when he takes it and holds it out of the merman’s reach.
“Why?”
“Take a guess, princess.”
No. He doesn’t want to guess, and he’s not one to have his authority questioned. Squirms in the other’s arm, turns and tries to reach for the drink. Just a little further, and he hears Leona’s laugh closer to his ear now, breath warm as it ghosts over his neck.
Thinks he almost has it – that is, until he leans onto the lion so much the other tips backwards. A thud, and he’s flat on top of Leona. Lightheaded, dizzy, unmoving.
His senses don’t feel quite alright, but he can make out the scent of earth – musk too – sweat and food. Nose pressed against rough skin, and it takes him two moments too long to realize his face is pressed in the captain’s nape. He shoots up then, face even redder than before and he can feel his cheeks burning up in shame, what kind of display is he giving?
It doesn’t help that, when he’s looking down, his hands are firmly placed on Leona’s chest, ever so perfectly cupping his pecs while the other smirks up at him.
And the worst is, there’s a shameless part in Vil that wants to squeeze—
Ah, he can’t! What is this stupid drink doing to him? His mind feels so hazy and he can only but pull his arms back as if burnt, nearly causing him to topple over once more. It takes all his strength to not fall back down onto that handsome idiot, and all the man does is laugh at his misery.
“S-Stop that, Leona. It’s not funny!”
Vil’s words are rather slurred at this point and Leona can’t even begin to put into words how ridiculously funny it all is to him. He took like what, three tiny sips and he’s already tipsy enough to not be able to talk? The Vil? Picture perfect mermaid that would berate anyone for not living up to their best standards?
There’s really no need for clowns on board when drunk Vil can be the entire circus.
But Leona is a simple man; he cannot deny that when the merman towers above him, hair messily hanging over his shoulders and into his face, framing the burning red cheeks in a perfectly imperfect way, that he feels weak for the poor, drunk man. How he tries to get away but hands firmly holding onto his chest.
If anyone had told him it took just a little ale for Vil to grab his man tits, Leona would’ve called them an idiot or comedian.
Maybe it’s the drinks speaking for Leona now, too, but he can’t say he minds the position they’re in; sure, he prefers to be on top, but it’s a comfortable weight the other provides. His tail twitching against his leg and part of him wonders how merfolk even…
No wait, he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He’s not that drunk to be thinking about merman sex.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, and yet
His hand won’t stop tracing the man’s spine; feeling a shudder against himself, seeing goosebumps all over the other’s skin, and his eye widens when his fingertips reach the scaled part where human connects to fish and the other lets out a delicious, low moan.
His voice is so sweet, delicate. Enough to drive him mad.
Addicting, and he wants to hear more—
Yet before he can even think of moving his fingers further, someone very loudly clears their throat. His eye is finally averted from Vil’s now-pout over to a certain hyena who – like the rest of the crew – stares at them with a frown.
“Seriously, Leona? Get a room.”
Oh. Ah, yeah, right. That’s…
Like, it’s not the worst where his dick’s ever been, he knows and he knows the crew knows, but also now that Ruggie pointed it out, it does feel kinda uncomfortable just to be all over each other in front of everyone.
Leona, too, clears his throat. Vil looks away, not meeting anyone’s gaze, yet not moving as apparently, he doesn’t know where. Leona can’t blame him, because he’s also somewhat lost.
He’s thankful when Vil breaks the silence.
“I… I’d like to go in the cabin and rest.”
That’s a great plan actually, so Leona nods. “I’ll bring you,” mostly so he can escape the situation and curious eyes as well.
Damn, he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking. One day they fight, the next the stupid merman disappears just to come back and save their asses, just to get drunk that night and fondle him all the same while moaning like a… like a… are fishes in heat? Do fishes moan? Is that a thing?
Fuck if he knew.
It’s the worst walk of shame Leona has ever had to take when he picks Vil up bridal style and the man clings to his shirt, face buried in his chest and breathing heavily, tail lifelessly hanging, and he can feel every single pair of eyes on his back as he retreats back to his room.
He’s not an idiot. Even when he closes the door behind himself and carefully places this idiot drunkard in his barrel, he knows what everyone is thinking. But, be as it is, he knows he’s shit, he’s trash, he’s an absolute asshole, but there’s no way he’ll actually take advantage of a half unconscious person.
From drinking three sips! Three!
For fucks sake, this man will be the death of him, giving him an actual new definition of lightweight. And the fucking noises he’s making, the soft groaning, his heavy breathing, Leona curses his animalistic ears and that he can hear all of it. Paces his room up and down in an attempt to distract himself but it’s not working.
Eventually, he places a cup of water on Vil’s small table and some painkillers that are god knows how old but will maybe – hopefully? – help him tomorrow morning. When he finally decides to turn to bed, leave that stupid fish to his own devices, he can hear a silent giggle behind himself. Makes him stop, turn around and title his head.
“What now?” He frowns because the other mouths something that Leona can’t hear. “What? Speak up or be quiet, idiot.”
Another giggle, and Vil titles his head. “Come here and I’ll tell you.”
Great, and now it’s playtime or what? Leona is too tired for this shit and he swears to himself he will never ever let this guy drink one single drop of alcohol ever again. If he had known he’s such a pain in the ass, he would’ve avoided it altogether.
Damn, he had thought it’d be fun and games seeing Vil tipsy, but this is just ridiculous. He groans as he steps closer, the smile on the other’s lips widening in turn.
“So?” He asks once he’s there, standing in front of the barrel and looking down at the almost swaying merman.
But he shakes his head. “Closer,” he says and Leona sighs. Bends down a little.
“Now?”
“Closer.”
“Are you… Tch, fine. Whatever.”
They’re eye to eye now and Leona can make out how glassy those amethyst hues look, how unfocused their gaze roams across his features; he’s none the better when his eye wanders to take in all of Vil. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never been this close to the other’s face and had the time to look.
And, surely Leona might be a liar, but right here, right now, he can’t bring himself to not think the truth. When he takes in those sharp features so perfectly balanced, face symmetrical and nose straight, lips slightly glistening as the merman flicks his tongue out and licks over them, it’s hard to not lean in.
When slender fingers find his face and trace his cheekbones, a thumb caressing the scar on his left eye, he finds it almost impossible to resist the touch. There is something about Vil that makes his hairs stand, how he wants to mess up this flawless beauty. Wants to grab him, mess his hair, smudge his make-up.
He wants to unravel this knot of a tightly woven, perfect image to reveal what’s beneath.
His fingers itch to touch skin again; even if he wanted to say it’s the alcohol talking, he knows deep down inside that there’s more reason to it. What reason, he can’t know.
He wants to see it all, feel it all. Doesn’t know when it started or when it’ll end, and he can’t care when they’re so close he can feel warm breath ghosting over his skin. When their noses slightly bump and Vil giggles. When their foreheads touch and they’re so close and it’s only them.
Hands in his hair; exhales, closes his eye. Reaches out, too, to wrap strands of blonde and purple around his fingers. Breathes in the intoxicating scent of the sea and alcohol and regret.
“I returned to you,” and Vil’s words are nothing but a whisper, a breath dancing on his lips, it’s like an electric shock when those soft lips brush against his own chapped ones.
And it’s then that reality washes over Leona like a cold wave.
When he realizes what’s happening.
When he realizes how wrong this is.
When Vil’s eyes open slowly, hints of insecurity and rejection reflecting in them as Leona backs away.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers and lets go of those soft locks.
Looks into those eyes that seem to look for a reason and not finding one, and Leona can’t let him know that it’s the guilt over his initial plans.
At the end of the day,
“I’m sorry, Vil. This just isn’t fair to you.”
Leona isn’t sure anymore if he ever wants to give away this stupid merman or keep him forever.
And he feels like an idiot for thinking like that.
Notes:
I changed a few things after all. Sorry for the late update. Life happened.
Chapter Text
The sun is high in the sky; fresh air tickles his cheeks, messes his hair, and he can’t help but smile. Fingertips dancing across pale skin, feeling the texture changing to scales now and again, and he finds he likes it more than he’d admit out loud.
Goosebumps when slender, long fingers feel him too, his abs, his chest, up to his neck – a thumb tracing his jaw, wiping away a grain of sand that’s stuck to his damp skin.
It’s not exactly what he remembers, but oh, he doesn’t mind when he looks up to see blonde strands dancing in the wind mixed with lavender, amethyst gently looking down on him. A smile, too, on painted lips so very plump and kissable, stupidly so, and it takes his all to not pull down the beauty over him.
His hands wander now – again – a tail to be touched to draw one of those too alluring moans and it works.
“Ah- Leona…”
A blush suits him just fine.
And the man leans down further, noses touching, lips so close, feeling his breath on his skin so warm and inviting, the smell of the sea in his nose,
And-
“Leona!”
He jolts up and it takes more than a second for Leona to actually recognize the source of the noise; sitting upright, and he feels his bed underneath himself rather than a warm beach, and there’s definitely not a beautiful blonde hovering over him but instead yelling for him while throwing shit his general direction.
“Fuck,” and he can’t help but curse under his breath, hand running through messy black locks, combing them backwards. “…fuck.”
“Leona, now that you’re awake, may I have your attention?!”
The voice also doesn’t match the sweetness from moments earlier and the lion groans in frustration; the snarkiness, bossing tone already rubs him the wrong way and there’s part of him that wishes the docile merman from just moments before back.
“What?” He doesn’t even have the energy to snap back. Rubs the side of his head where some of Vil’s … trash had hit him.
“What is the meaning of this? Why do I feel like this?”
“The fuck? How am I supposed to know how yer feelin’?”
He pointedly does not add ‘fuck off’ to it, lest he’d piss the merman off even more and he feels like that’d be the wrong course of action right now, seeing how the guy already seems more than ready to tear him a new one if not for the distance between them and lack of feet to close in.
“My head hurts, my limbs feel heavy. What sort of poison did you feed me last night?!”
For a moment, Leona has absolutely no fucking clue as to what Vil is talking about. For the first time this morning, he looks over to a less than stellar looking, grumpy, frowning bitch of a fish and realizes this is an argument he had already lost before he even joined the conversation. He groans.
He also decides he will never, ever give this stupid merman another drop of alcohol.
“You got shit-faced from one drink. Calm down, princess. It’ll go away.”
Vil’s arms are crossed before his chest and his frown deepens. He doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but what can Leona do? It’s not his fault and he ain’t taking any responsibility for it either.
His own body feels heavy too for other reasons, yet he still gets up and moves across the room, looking over Vil’s table and realizing the painkillers are still where they have been.
“You’ll feel better if you take those,” and he points at them, amethyst eyes following, “and drink some water.”
“What happened to me?”
Vil’s voice finally sounds more curious than furious, yet he still does as told and fills a glass, swallowing the pill whole. Too trusting, Leona thinks, considering he just complained about having been poisoned. Which he was, technically, but that’s besides the point. At least alcohol is a good sort of poison. Maybe.
“I just told you. You got shit-faced.”
But Vil frowns, “what does that mean?”
“Like… You got drunk? Don’t you guys—” he stops mid-sentence, realizing that no, Merfolk do not, in fact, have alcohol underwater. He clears his throat, “Do you guys underwater have drugs?”
It’s actually an interesting question; the merman titles his head, but seems like he relaxes a bit.
“We do, but they’re not liquid. Mushrooms, certain plants. So you fed me drugs?” he inquires.
Leona shrugs. “For the record, you took the drink from me, I didn’t give it to you.”
Vil presses his lips into a thin line and – ah. Now that he’s drawn attention to it, it’s hard for Leona to look away when they’re there, still just as kissable as last night. The perfect bow, that pouty lower lip almost hidden, and he quickly averts his gaze. No way he’ll be caught staring.
Fuck.
He’s still too drowsy to process anything that’s happening, and he also doesn’t want to face the reality of the fact that he almost non-consensually kissed the fish. And still wants to kiss him. What the fuck is wrong with his head? Is it because he hasn’t had someone to fuck with recently?
Why is he turning into such a horrible horny bastard now?
Shaking off the thoughts, he quickly pulls the messy – and, admittedly smelly – shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Time to get changed and not think about how badly he wants to continue where he left off last night. Now that Vil is awake and fully conscious again, it’s much less appealing anyway.
Damn, he really forgot his personality for a moment there.
Is this the power of a pretty face? Must be.
“What’s that?”
An intrigued voice drags him from his thoughts over how much he does not want to kiss the fish and he looks across the room; the other – still with something he can only describe as a resting bitch face – stares at him now, top to bottom, and it’s now that he realizes that… Yeah, Vil’s never seen him shirtless, right?
But, isn’t he also half human? He should be used to naked chests, right? He doesn’t quite understand the question and frowns in return, obvious he wants the merman to elaborate. The other sighs almost in frustration and points at him.
“That.”
Emerald eye following downwards where the slender finger points at and
Oh
Fuck
Hell no.
Leona thinks he’s never turned around quite this fast ever in his life, he definitely does not want Vil to see both what he pointed at and the burning redness spreading on his face. What is he, some school boy that gets embarrassed over his first boner?!
And yet, fucking hell, he can’t stop that uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment spreading and settling in his stomach when he realizes he just fucking walked around with a hard-on, full on display in wide pants, all for the merman to see.
The merman who is the cause of it, on top of it!
“Mind your own business.” The sharpness in his tone is almost too telling and he hates how it came out. Takes a deep breath, then, yet still not facing Vil.
He can almost feel the smirk on those purple lips in the way Vil simply says, “Ah. Mind my business… Did I hit a sore spot?”
The smugness is way too apparent in his voice and it rubs the lion the wrong way. It’s not that Leona is ashamed of having a boner in the morning, far from it, but the cause is sitting in barrel across the room and talking to him about it, and there’s something stupidly shameful about that fact that he’d rather not admit to.
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue in frustration and crosses his arms; then, he turns halfway so he can look at the stupid blonde while still not having his lower body to be gawked at by the merman. “Nothin’ like that. Just something that happens to guys from time to time. Don’t be weird about it.”
“Oh.” Vil is silent for a moment. “Is it like a second tai—”
“Stop.”
He’s not in the mood for this. Nope.
And luckily, it does shut up the other who crosses his arms now, frown deeper than before.
At least for a short moment.
“Anyway—”
“What now?”
“The tattoo on your arm.”
When Leona had been ready to fight just moments ago, the words leave him stunned; he blinks once, twice, and it takes him a second to understand what was said. Looks at his arm then and yeah, there it is. Black against tan skin, and he’s so used to it he almost forgot it existed.
Unfortunately, it still does.
“What about it?” He tries his best to sound calmer yet feels he’s not so successful when the other titles his head.
Vil seems in thought for a moment, then. “Where did you get it? What does it mean?”
He’s unsure whether to be glad for, or annoyed by the change of topic, but if it distracts the merman from his dick, maybe it’s as good of a topic as can be. It also distracts him from lewd thoughts of wanting to shut him up with a kiss, maybe. Possibly. Perhaps.
“It’s…” he hesitates for a moment and inspects the lion pattern once more. So long since he had last paid attention, too. “… something of a family tradition?” He’s unsure how to explain it. “Men in our family get it when we turn twelve. A proof of our—”
Status. Royalty.
“— heritage."
Vil doesn’t know anything about him, he realizes then. Kept him in the dark, and maybe it’s for the best. He doesn’t want to be associated with those bunch of losers anymore anyway, so there’s no need in bringing up that he’s a fucking prince.
Who even gives a shit about an empty title?
But Vil seems too much in thought, and there’s part of Leona that wonders why. Why those perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow together even deeper, almost straining, if he frowns a bit more Leona worries the expression might get stuck.
“A family tradition?” the other repeats, and Leona nods.
At least the conversation about his past is killing his boner quickly.
“Yeah. Kinda stupid if you ask me, but whatever.”
“It’s not stupid.” Vil’s expression finally eases up into curiosity. “You said you had a brother, does he have it too?”
Leona scrunches his nose at that. “Duh. Told you, it’s a family thing, of course he does.”
A nod, as if he had just revealed sage wisdom upon the merman.
“Has your brother ever traveled the sea?”
The question takes Leona aback simply by how random it seems.
“Yeah, I guess. Not often though. Dunno about the past ten years though, ya gotta ask him directly about that when we arrive in Sunset Savanna.”
“Ten years?” Most surprised, Vil perks up at that; his back straightens and purple eyes widen ever so slightly.
“What about it? I just haven’t seen the guy in that long. Sue me.”
While the merman’s shoulders slump again ever so slightly, there’s nothing else Leona can deduct from his demeanor other than that ten years seem to be of importance to Vil.
And that’s the thing he doesn’t like about him the most: That he can’t read the guy at all. One day he’s a nagging shit, the next he’s lovely, it’s like Leona is watching an artist paint a different personality every day. The baseline of him being a little shit stays the same however, and Leona would call that the artist’s style.
And Vil doesn’t reply, his thoughts as well seeming to drift off; lost in thought he takes his glass and sips the water given last night, purple stains on the rim, and Leona wonders if he said something wrong.
For all he knows, Vil hated humans when he first came to the ship – probably still does, to be honest – and now he’s asking for someone who traveled the sea with a tattoo such as his own… It’s just a weird thought, and Leona can’t quite place the puzzle pieces together just yet, but he feels like something might’ve happened there. And, as stupid as it sounds, he wonders if Farena had been honest with him all this time.
Wonders if he had been played a fool, but wouldn’t it be too much of a coincidence if Farena was the reason Vil hated humans so?
Not that he can blame him, he’d hate humans too if that piece of shit of a brother would be the first and only interaction he’d ever have with his kin.
It’s just, he remembers shortly before his own journey to the sea and that fateful day – the attack that had changed the course of his life – Farena had been at sea as well. Nothing had changed immediately, but when Leona had returned and told Farena about being saved by a mermaid, he had been just a little too adamant about them not being real. Now that he thinks about it, yeah. He really had been weird about the entire mermaid thing, hadn’t he?
Luckily, the conversation seems to be over (and horny times down in his pants, too, thank God), so Leona turns to continue what he had tried to do earlier, aka getting dressed. He’s not paying the merman any more attention and it seems mutual if the silence is anything to go by.
His thoughts wander to the past. How he had tried to convince his brother that the mermaid had been, in fact, real. That he wouldn’t be alive if not for her. And how Farena had questioned it time and time again, even went as far as calling him crazy. The memory is slightly hazy, but he knows for sure that there was no way his brother would budge and believe him just the tiniest bit.
Maybe it was because he knew they were real, and it once again was one of his weird plots to make him feel less than what he was?
Ugh, he really doesn’t want to think about that shit stain of a family member anymore. Groans ever so silently as he throws on a clean pair of pants and a slightly less crumbled shirt that doesn’t smell like it’s been on the floor for ten days. Good enough.
His eyes wander to the blonde that still sips from the glass and barely any liquid is gone; it’s as if the thoughts of the royal family are instantly erased from his thoughts when looking at unfocused purple eyes. The other might not know, but in the way the sun shines through the window, falls on him, the ever so small ripples of his drink reflect on his skin and make him glow almost ethereal. Is this what other merfolk get to see on a daily basis, when he swims through rays of sun? When they filter through the surface of the ocean and make him shine? It hardly seems fair.
Hardly seems fair how the glass touches his lips too, marks left as if they shouldn’t be on him instead, and he feels stupid, but wonders how much the man remembers of last night. He won’t take the first step, but he wouldn’t resist if he were to be pulled down into the death that is Vil.
“Am headin’ outside. Wanna come along?”
His voice breaks the silence and Vil looks up, unfocused for a second before he arrives back in reality to stare directly at him. He really did drag him from his thoughts, huh? It almost looks adorable how the man tries to regain his composure by blinking.
“You never asked me before,” he replies and Leona realizes that that’s… actually true.
It makes him pause, too.
“… I guess? I was just tryin’ to be nice for once.” There’s no way he will admit to it that it was nothing short of a reflex, a thoughtless sentence spoken. No way he’ll admit that it’s because today, he doesn’t mind spending time with the merman.
No way he’ll admit he wants to actually see if last night had been real, and Vil would crave his company too—
“Thank you, but I’d like to stay here.”
The words immediately crush his thoughts. Yeah, right. The guy was drunk and now Leona is more than glad that he didn’t go through with his urges. Man, that’d make for an awkward conversation, huh?
He ignores the feeling at the pit of his stomach and nods instead. “Suit yourself,” he says and moves to leave the cabin. Maybe it’s for the best they aren’t close after all, since he can’t seem to get the stupid thoughts out of his head; maybe some fresh air will help. It has to.
When it hits him, he takes a deep breath of salty freshness mixed with the remaining smell of ashes and wood, fried fish and alcohol. It’s a familiar scent that brings him back down to earth and he realizes that it’s exactly what he needed. Familiarity, if nothing else, to return his senses.
Maybe this is the true appeal of a siren, and he, too, fell for it.
“So… How’d it go?”
Leona almost jumps from where he’s standing at the sudden voice invading his space and when he looks over, it’s Ruggie holding a platter. He frowns for a moment before he realizes the other is offering it to him, so he takes it and inspects the grilled fish on it, the remains from last night he’d rather have than whatever is going on in his mind.
“Dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout,” he replies and picks a piece of the cooked flesh, popping it in his mouth.
Ruggie in turn smirks. “You know what I mean. After you two left…”
“Is this the rumor we’re spreading today?” He interrupts the smaller one whose ears perk up. “What are you, pirates or gossip girls?”
“Why not both?”
Ruggie laughs and Leona in turn lightly punches his shoulder. At least he brings a smile to his lips. “Idiot. Nothin’ happened. I ain’t non-con’ing a fish.”
The hyena laughs, crossing his arms behind his head. “That’s a weird way to say it, boss,” and it sounds like the other doesn’t believe him.
And by everything that’s holy, he, too, wished it wasn’t the truth.
“So what’s the plan for today?” he asks instead, looking out at the sea. It’s a bit more unruly than the past days, but it’s still fine from what he can see. The sun shines bright, but there’s a bunch of darker clouds coming from the direction they’re going.
His vice shrugs. “Full speed to Sunset Savanna?” A rhetoric question that does not need an answer. Leona still nods.
There’s a moment of silence between them in which he simply continues having his breakfast, looking out in the distance. Islands to be seen far away, but not a stop he’d be interested in taking. Stops eating, then, when he notices the younger next to him shifting slightly, and it’s annoying to a point he almost bursts.
“What?” He almost snaps but lacks his usual bite, yet still irritated. If there’s something to be said, just say it.
“I just,” and Ruggie hesitates again, unsure apparently. It’s rare for the captain to see the other like this, so it makes him raise his eyebrow doubtfully. Luckily the other continues before he can voice his annoyance. “I don’t feel good anymore about ditching Vil.”
Wait, woah.
This is the first time Ruggie has ever voiced a ‘controversial’ thought and the fish in Leona’s fingers drops back onto the plate. Stares at the smaller, then, and he’s not sure if he heard it right. Too stunned to speak.
“It’s just, it feels wrong?” the other tries to justify as if he had to – as if the silence meant Leona was angry.
But Leona isn’t angry. He’s surprised.
“You want to bring him back?” Leona asks as if to clarify and Ruggie nods. This in turn takes Leona aback even more; after all, it is a premiere for his vice to voice an opinion like that, especially regarding a ‘prisoner’, if Vil could be called such.
“He saved us, Leona. Not that we couldn’t have handled, but…” his voice trails off.
He’s not wrong. And yeah, maybe he agrees, but definitely for different reasons.
“Is it because he got you some gold?” he inquires. He’s known that guy for too long to think gratitude is his only motivation.
And right on the money, there’s the faintest blush spreading on sun-kissed cheeks, a sheepish laugh. “I mean, that, too. But like, can’t we just show him to Farena and fuck right off again?”
It’s really surprising to see Ruggie of all people vouch for someone like this, but for once, Leona can’t blame him at all. Again, the thoughts have crossed his mind more than once in the past 24 hours, and he’d be a damn liar if he shot the other down right away.
But also, he’d rather eat a broom than admit it to his fellow pirate.
“…You know what? I’ll think about it,” he opts to say. “But why bring him back if we can also just keep him?”
“What?”
“Think about it, Ruggie. If we keep him on the ship after all is said and done, he can still fish for gold for us, right?” A blatant lie about his motivations, but he knows he sells it when the other’s eyes widen for a second before turning into a squint.
“You really are the worst, aren’t you?” Ruggie says, and yeah, he’s right.
“Maybe.”
“You’re fucking selfish,” he continues and Leona shrugs.
“Yeah, so what? Think about it. As much gold as you want from the bottom of the sea.”
Ruggie doesn’t reply, then. Leona knows him too well though, knows he considers it now.
But Ruggie is right.
There’s no way he will leave Vil with his brother.
Not if he can have him instead.
That tattoo…
There’s no way.
It just is too much of a coincidence, right? Right?
And yet, no matter how much Vil thinks about it, his mind won’t stop trying to connect the dots that aren’t even there and yet they are. Black hair, that tattoo, ten years ago…
It all just matches too well, no?
And yet he is so very torn, because now it all gets muddled up. There’s no way the boy from back then could be Leona, absolutely not. Even as everything matches, there’s something inside him that just can’t accept this – after all, stuff like this only happens in theater.
However, the thought that the boy from back then might be his brother, now that… still sounds unlikely, but more likely than it being Leona.
Because— because. There’s no way. That’s because.
His mind is racing. The memory so faded, no matter how much he tries to recall, he just… can’t piece it together. Like a puzzle that is missing pieces.
And then there’s also that other issue.
That issue of this weird dream he had last night; the smell of alcohol and regret, the warmth of breath on his skin. So close, and he thinks he can still feel the texture of messy hair under his fingertips. Tracing the rough skin, and a green eye too close for comfort yet not close enough.
Lips moving, and he’d feel the phantom of a touch against his own.
And it’s all so horribly blurry and his head hurts so much; feels like he can remember the bumping of their noses against another, but it’s such a faint memory he daren’t think it was real. A dream, surely, but of a strange kind.
He truly can’t believe he dreamt of kissing Leona?!
Of all people it has to be the one with the biggest attitude problem and, unfortunately, the most handsome face. Luckily, if it had been real he would be sure that that jerk would’ve told him – no, made fun of him – for his advances. That’s just the kind of person Leona is.
Right?
Ugh. Everything is spinning still and the shaking of this damned ship doesn’t help one bit. If there was anything in his stomach right now, he’d love to get rid of it.
He’s miserable, end of story. And now, with a brother that could potentially be the boy from his past being thrown into the mix, everything starts to get weird. Just thinking about it, he could’ve kissed Leona and then it turns out the one he promised to return to would be his brother, wouldn’t that just be the worst?
And yet, deep inside, part of him just wants to pretend it had been Leona all along and it’s all good.
But he can’t.
It might just be his upbringing or general way of life, but rationality always wins over emotions when it comes to such things; no need to dive head first into a pool of uncertainty when he can also test the waters first and see how it goes, muddy as it is. If anything, this is the one thing he cannot possibly get wrong.
… That said,
How dare Leona look like that this morning? Gods help him, his head might be hurting, but he can’t deny a handsome man when he sees one; from the way that chest glistened ever so slightly with sweat, to those strong arms he had been in one too many times, it was almost too hard to stay mad.
Also, that other part…
Intriguing, is what he will settle for, for now. Simply because Leona seemed way too flustered when pointed out, and it’s just entirely too much fun to mess with him when he acts like a shy little kitten – or so he’d like to think, but it’s still Leona after all. One of these days, he would get the man to blush and stumble over his own words for sure, if anything just as a payback for the horrible carpet ride.
He sighs silently against the glass he idle sips on, eyes wandering the room as he is left alone now. Wonders where this journey will lead him – will he be led astray, tempted too much, or arrive in the arms of the one he has been seeking for far too long? Is it even the correct person? Too many questions and too few answers, Vil settles for looking outside through the still dirty window, gazing upon the clouds shifting in the sky.
Something is in the air, but he can’t quite put his finger on it as of yet. Figuratively or literally, both are uncertain in the same way his heart is, slowly but steady, silently and sneaky threatening to betray him. He rubs his face, groans, but the turmoil inside still rages on; he’s glad he denied coming along, for looking at the man would make things unnecessarily complicated when he’s trying to get a hold of all that is, and all that will be.
Oh, what a fool he makes himself out to be.
In the end, it takes some time, but those painkillers do work wonders on his splitting headache and finally tranquility sets in around him, the rocking back and forth of the ship not as bad anymore, and he finds it quite comfortable when he can just lounge in his barrel he’s gotten a little too used to, mustering the abandoned shirt worn earlier, wondering if it smelled the same his dream did.
Regret, yes, but want, too.
Truly, he had never hoped to become the damsel in distress when much rather he’d be the femme fatale for his héros malchanceux, but the inclination to avoid the disaster turns to nothing but sand when he finds himself imagining his poor self under Leona’s fingertips, at his mercy as those lips steal his last breath away.
It’s a wicked image truly, for the man still has that wretched personality attached to the handsome features, but if he could shut him up with a kiss or two, maybe he’d be just a little less insufferable. Ah, but those thoughts are hidden far away under a smile against the rim of his glass, not for the world to hear – after all, if he were to say it out loud, maybe even he himself would find it hard to believe that he does, in fact, not like Leona Kingscholar.
It is nothing short of a feral instinct to be drawn to someone you spend so much time together, right?
When the door opens, Vil doesn’t flinch. He’s too used to the creaking to be spooked anymore and the heavy footsteps had already announced who his midday visitor might be; a perfectly placed smile on delicate features as he sets the almost empty glass aside to look at Jack with dinner in his hands, and the younger nods back at him.
“Fish again?” he jests, yet Jack’s ears droop a bit; continuing then, “Not like we have much else under the sea. I like it.”
With that, those large, fluffy ears perk up once more, adorably so and that tail wags in such an expressive way Vil is glad at least one pirate on this ship is even remotely readable. Or, extremely readable in Jack’s case.
“It’s from last night,” the boy says as he hands Vil the plate which is thankfully received.
“Thank you. Food does sound like a good idea after… whatever happened last night,” he replies, plucking at the cooked thing. He wonders how often he will have to let the other know it’s not necessary, he can eat them all intact and raw just fine, but he decides it’s not worth dampening the mood of the younger yet again. Instead he gingerly picks up a piece of solid white between his sharp nails, gracefully bringing it to his lips; the taste, well, it’s okay for what it is despite being still very strange in texture.
He does look up from lunch though when Jack shuffles about, awkwardly so, and clearing his throat silently. Nudges his head, then, as an inclination for the other to speak as his mouth is full of grilled fish at the moment.
The pirate averts his gaze before he mumbles, “So, uh… You and Leona…”
Vil swallows. “Yes?” Another piece in his mouth.
“Are you two dating?”
The sentence takes the merman by surprise so much that he actually almost chokes on the food in his mouth, coughing while trying his best not to spit it all over the floor.
“What?!”
“It’s just,” he gestures vaguely, insecurely, “everybody’s talking about it since yesterday. When you two went in here…”
“I live in here, Jack.” Vil’s reply is dry and sharp, his eyebrows furrowed now – however, more in bewilderment than anger. “At least momentarily.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts.”
The younger straightens his back quickly, apparently shocked by the quickness of his replies, but it matters not. There’s no room for rumors when he himself is trying to figure out the mess he has gotten himself into! Does he feel bad about snapping at the unsuspecting boy? Maybe. But such a question is sheer insolence!
At least he feels this way when his cheeks feel hotter by the second.
“Sorry,” Jack continues to mumble, almost making the merman snap once more for not speaking properly, but he feels like he’s putting him through the wringer enough as is… about a guy who’s not even here to begin with. Even when not present, apparently Leona can’t leave him alone, huh?
But Vil shakes his head. “… Don’t believe everything you hear. This is a purely transactional agreement – I show myself to his brother, and he returns me home. It’s nothing more and nothing less, and the way I acted when intoxicated doesn’t reflect anything.” But he damn well hoped it wasn’t too bad, and it would be quite helpful if he at least remembered!
But, as his bad luck has it, he doesn’t and he finds himself too puzzled by the assumption. It can’t be that he had ravaged Leona on deck, that’s just not his style. As much as he’s an actor and model and loves the attention, certain things should be left in private. He can’t possibly have …
And so, he groans, one hand brought up to rub his temple.
“Just don’t think too much about it, Jack,” he concludes as he puts his plate away, not hungry anymore.
“I won’t,” is the meek reply before the wolf turns to leave. Vil doesn’t stop him.
The only thing he tries to stop are thoughts when the other had left and he’s left alone with them, running wild in his mind. Maybe the dream hadn’t been a dream, but it also felt too surreal to be true. He just can’t…
The passage of time is lost on him until later that day when the one occupying his mind returns to his cabin, hair messed from the wind outside. That evening, they don’t exchange many words; Leona being his usual grumpy self, and he himself too distracted in deciphering the truth. His glances find the lion then and again, and once or twice their eyes meet for a moment before both look away, but otherwise it is far from spectacular, and far from what he had hoped.
Which… is stupid, admittedly, because he had hoped for nothing and all yet still is disappointed when exactly that happens.
A real dilemma when he tries to figure out whether he wants the other to approach him or wants him to stay away, but for this night, he sticks with curling up in the barrel and reminiscing about what was, what could have been and what will be soon.
Foolish, because he knows it’s nothing but a fleeting feeling that will be washed away by the tides of time, yet still wanting to find out and discover why he is so drawn to that man when he has been nothing but rude.
He settles for a night with barely any sleep and cryptic dreams, but he dares not investigate it any further even when he wakes up the next morning and realizes that a certain lion has already left the den.
This day is… as unsurprisingly uneventful as many of them, and the rush of whatever happened fades into nothingness quick; he busies himself with doing his hair and make-up until Jack takes him outside where he chats about everything and nothing alike, and it almost feels like swimming, diving, fetching gold and killing people had happened a decade ago even though it was a mere two days. Glances still now and then thrown his way, but it isn’t quite clear whether they’re in fear of his powers or awe of his beauty – either is fine, but not knowing which is problematic.
It’s stupid, he thinks, when his eyes gaze along the ship to spot the captain talking to his vice and he wished he could hear what they’re talking about. Stupid, how purple hues linger just a moment too long on a strong jawline and an exposed neck; today of all days, Leona had decided to tie his hair in a ponytail and Vil finds he quite likes it this way, too. It makes the mess seem a little more proper, even if miniscule, and he figures it’s because of the heat again today. It’s almost unbearable for Vil if not for those poor fools fanning him constantly.
“Can I ask you something?” The words rip Vil forcefully from his thoughts, and the drop of sweat running down tanned skin is no longer in his visual focus, eyes snapping to none other than the wolf once more. A curse and a blessing all the same, he thinks, but he’s kind of glad Jack saved him from dying of thirst.
“Sure,” he says nonchalantly like it isn’t the lifeline he needs to not stare at Leona more than necessary.
Those amber eyes look directly at him as he speaks, “Do you think I will see Epel again?”
“Eh?”
…Well, he would’ve had a million topics in mind to talk about, but the prince? It takes Vil by surprise. He’s also not sure where this is coming from, and the picture of bewilderment seems to be obvious on his features when Jack scratches the back of his head before he continues.
“I’ve been wondering, when we return you, do you think…”
His voice trails off, but Vil needs to hear no more. Simply shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”
It’s not as firm and clear-cut as he’d like for it to be, but he can’t deny Epel is just too much of a wild card to count the possibility out forever. It begs to wonder what makes the wolf think about it, but he dares not question the thoughts of humans, for he will most likely never truly understand them. The other, too, seems to understand the indication and while he seems a bit sad about the fact, he’s not crushed.
And by anything, if it wasn’t for Epel’s status, he’d pray for them to see each other again.
It’s clear in the way the boy speaks the name affectionately, that he seems to care enough that even as his bodyguard, Vil would allow Jack near him; time and time he’s proven he’s not a bad guy, but there’s just so much that can be between a commoner and a prince, no less a merman and a beastman. They’re just too different, how can it work out?
It feels sobering, but it can’t be helped.
Even if he’s to find that boy from ten years ago, how…—
The thought is cut short. “I’d still like to try and see him again,” Jack says in such conviction it makes Vil halt. Realize he’s back to staring across the ship, at Leona, and he shakes his head.
“I’ll see what I can do about it.” It’s not much – not a promise by a long shot – but it’s all the comfort he can offer for the time being and it seems to work just fine in the way the other’s expression lights up into a wide, toothy grin. He returns the smile much more subtle and maybe a little fake, but he feels he owes at least this much to someone who has treated him kindly all this time.
That, and he doesn’t want them to go apart forever without saying goodbye.
Their conversation turns to something more mindless then; he can’t quite recall the specifics, simply about the weather which in itself would sound boring, but to Vil it isn’t. It’s fascinating to understand what humans have to deal with when Jack explains storms and rain, and how after really hot weather like today, storms are common.
It’s much different underwater. The currents change and those winds influence the seas, but far deep down where he lives, it barely makes any difference other than light breaking through the surface or not. There’s an appeal to both, he muses to himself, but lets Jack continue to complain about hating the rain. He’d like to witness it some time, but when he voices this, the wolf simply tells him it’s not exactly the season for normal rains.
Storms however, yes.
It’s intriguing, but again, he says it not, for Jack seems to not be fond of them. It’s a discussion he doesn’t want to have right now, and he trusts the other on his judgment that they are too dangerous to be outside on deck as they happen.
Day turns to night, and night turns to day, and it is but the same as it has been and the same as it will be. Leona seems to pointedly avoid him, or rather, that’s what he likes to imagine; but the truth is most likely that the waters are getting a bit rowdier and Leona is for once putting forth an effort to stay on course unlike the time it landed them in the Scalding Sands that deserve their name just for how fucking scalding hot they were.
It’s a memory he’d like to forget, passing out curled up against Leona of all people.
But also… not.
He remembers the time with Kalim and Jamil fondly and misses their pool dearly. Winces mentally a little at the halfway-disaster they have left behind as well as the magical carpet horror trip, but that’s just about it.
And as the sun goes down and the moon rises, the stars dance across the sky until they don’t and dawn is upon them again.
The way his hair sways in the wind as he looks out at islands passing by, allowed close to the railing now, a privilege hard earned. It does come as a surprise when Leona allows him to swim besides the ship now and again, almost like a pet on a short leash but he will take it for what it is, those few hours trailing along the boat while they make their way towards what Ruggie calls home and Leona their destination.
Among one of those days that seem to pass in a blur, he finds himself in the cabin with its owner for once in a blue moon; they have barely spoken yet Vil feels like the distance between them has closed in just a little, and it’s almost comforting to watch the lion thoughtfully observe that game board of his with the funny figures.
Moving them now and again in a strategy that Vil can’t quite figure out as of yet, but curiosity has him all the same, a glimpse into what that man might be thinking yet not. There’s a pattern to it like a dance; the small ones can only move two ahead, or one diagonal when taking another, the large tower only forwards, backwards and sideways, the animalistic one two ahead and one diagonal obligatory, one only diagonal. What the two towers in the middle can do, it’s quite the mystery as one seems to move as it pleases and one only moves one square at a time.
Vil finds himself enchanted by the way Leona would hum to himself before throwing a white piece off the board, resting his chin on his palm as he silently observes it all. A swish of the tail, a twitch of the ear, a silent grumble as if he hadn’t taken his own piece just now – it’s like a theater playing out by one only, executed well.
It needs no words to be interesting all the same.
When Vil looks out of the window the next day, the sky is clear again aside from gray clouds hanging low in the distance. While it seems to be their course, it doesn’t bother Leona. He questions it, and even gets a decent reply which is more than in the past. Just like the clean shirt with rolled up sleeves and proper pants, mostly untangled hair as a change of pace, Vil can’t help but comment on it.
“You’re working hard, I see,” he says as an offhand comment while fixing himself in his handheld mirror, placing each and every strand of golden and lilac hair where it should be. He might not be looking at the lion, but he can still hear the smirk in his tone.
“What, the pillow princess complimenting me? What do I deserve the honor with?” he replies in a joke, and the merman can’t help but snicker lightly – though as it is, half the joke is lost on him.
“You don’t deserve it,” he muses, taking the gloss to paint his lips, “But you’ll receive it anyway. Children have to be praised when they do well. That aside, I don’t use a pillow.”
Leona snorts, “Ha. A child? What does that make you, then? I’m older.” Their eyes meet, challenging. “I know you don’t, but that’s also not what pillow princess means.”
“What does it mean?”
“Find out yourself.”
With a flick of his wrist, Vil pushes lilac locks over his shoulder. “Suit yourself, Mr. Mysterious. I’ll find out soon enough, and you’ll be sorry for it.”
“Do your worst.”
It almost feels surreal how their banter has turned into something light-hearted, but he doesn’t mind it at all. It’s quite fun to be witty at each other without the added bitterness, and he finds himself rather enjoying the company of Leona, as much as one can enjoy a still very rude and crude man.
“How long will it be until we arrive?” Vil asks then, trying to study the funny drawing on the map on the other’s table, but it’s still to no avail, the same old blue and brown and green with shapes.
Leona shrugs. “If everything goes according to plan… Dunno, maybe three weeks or so?”
“Does anything ever go according to your plan?”
“Hey.” He huffs, but doesn’t seem too offended. “Everything would go according to plan if I didn’t have a half-fish ruining it all the time.”
“Hardly seems ruining if I’m improving it, no?”
He chuckles and Leona rolls his eye, smirk still on his lips. “Improvement where? I wasn’t the one who passed out in Scarabia.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“Tell yourself that, sweet-cheeks.” Leona pauses then for a moment, gaze averted to the window, then back at Vil, “Wanna come along outside?”
“You ask that a lot recently. Can’t get enough of me?” he replies with just a bit of sass added, lips curling up in a smile now, too. “Sure, I can’t stand being holed up in your stinky man-cave for too long anyway.”
With that, Leona gets up, movements as smooth as can be – almost too graceful for what Vil has been presented with in the past, but he won’t complain – and walks over to pick the merman up out of his barrel. It’s still too unusual that he gets carried by the captain himself, almost worries for Jack’s job, but it’s okay like this when he can enjoy this little bit of contact, despite how little he wants to admit to it.
And he ignores the looks they get, too.
It’s almost a routine now, too, when Leona asks, “Wanna go for a swim, little fish?”
And he replies, “Of course, lion boy.”
The feeling of the waves is welcome around his body, the stretch too good when he finally is in the ocean again and he can extend to his full length. Despite it all, he is and will be a fish in a barrel when on the ship which is in itself such a pity, looking at his beautiful fins and how they spread in the salty waters below.
And, he can’t say he minds Leona staying at the railing to watch as he moves his body rhythmically along the waves, close to the surface for the captain to see.
Maybe it’s because he’s an actor and likes the attention.
Or maybe it’s because it’s Leona who’s looking.
It’s too fucking unfair.
He’s done so much and done so well, and yet, here he is, staring at a stupid fish doing exercises in the water while he can do nothing but helplessly watch like a fool, those colors shimmering in the water just too enticing to look away.
Tried to avoid the merman, tried to ignore him, and yet whenever the idiot wasn’t looking he found his own gaze wandering to those delicate features, high cheekbones and pointy nose, the way whose eyes would round ever so softly when he smiled, mesmerized by elegant fingers pushing golden hair aside whenever the wind would mess them.
Even in the mornings when he was barely awake, the stupid fish would look so effortlessly pretty it got Leona mad to the point he had to leave the cabin or else he’d commit a crime.
What, is he turning into an idiot now?
Earth to horny brain, the fish is not to be fucked, hello? Anyone there?
But he’d be fucking damned if he denied that this siren was the most beautiful thing he’s seen, and it messes with his head just the more. Traveled so far and wide just to short-circuit at someone whose bottom half could be served as dinner, and not in the sexy kinda way.
Or maybe yes in the sexy kinda way.
No Wait.
Abort mission, please?
He groans to himself, ruffling his hair in – or out? – of place as his single eye follows those smooth movements. He doesn’t like this one bit, because the guy is still annoying as can be, a pain in his ass if one might.
Maybe it’s just a feline urge of a cat, nothing more and nothing less, that makes him want to pluck that fish from the water and put him in his mouth—
This has to stop.
First of all, he doesn’t even know if mermen have anything to put in anyone’s mouth, and secondly, no, just no. He’s not- no. He’s not even going to finish any of these thoughts. Instead, he moves away from the railing, turning around just to have a smug smirk right in his face – the one who could effectively kill any boner he might’ve had in half a second or less.
“What do you want, Ruggie?”
“Nothin’. Just got curious what got yer tail swishing like that, captain.”
Leona grumbles in reply, arching his eyebrow as he looks down on the smaller one. Ruggie’s gotten kinda feisty too lately, again and again up his ass on letting Vil dive for gold; he rejects it, the trust not fully there yet, he’s already glad enough that the merman sticks to the rule of swimming where he can be seen so he’s not gonna risk another half-heart attack over almost losing that idiot in the sea.
Why he decided to let him swim in the first place, well… Long story short, just because.
He doesn’t need to justify himself in front of anyone and as long as Vil doesn’t fuck off underwater, it’s all the same whether he’s in a barrel and miserable or in the ocean and just a little less miserable. He’s come to realize, too, that Vil is much less of a cranky bitch when he gets to exercise, so that’s an added bonus.
It has absolutely nothing to do with how his body moves along the waves and those lean muscles flex, and how his hair would flow in the water like silky gold. Nothing, nada.
“… Leona?”
Immediately, he snaps back from those thoughts and damn is he glad for it. Blinks at Ruggie questioning, and the other snickers.
“What.”
“I was talking, Didn’t ya listen?”
“No.”
A fake shocked gasp, and the hyena clutches his chest dramatically – another habit he might have stolen from the damn fish – before he says, “How awful! The only thing you care for is—”
“Shut up and tell me what ya want.” He doesn’t need to hear about it, okay? His weird ass boner for a certain someone that he definitely does not have doesn’t have to be reiterated by his vice, much less loudly in front of everyone. Ruggie chuckles and Leona squints.
“Well,” the younger one begins, blue eyes finally trailing away from him into the distance, “The course you chose, ya know, I kinda don’t feel so good about it.”
“Is this about Vil again?”
Ruggie jumps, ears perking up. “No, no. I mean the literal course. Just, yanno, those clouds kinda scream trouble.” He gestures to where the gray wall hangs low on the sky, and Leona huffs as he crosses his arms. “We shouldn’t…”
“It’s faster though,” he simply replies and titles his head. Is this some attempt at trying to gain some more time? Strange, because Ruggie’s always the one biting his tail over wanting to go home as soon as possible for his family. Oh how the turns have tabled, or so they say.
But the other shakes his head. Mumbles, then, “Whatever ya say, but, like, I guess my sixth sense is telling me to avoid it.”
Now this is… rare, actually. For all the bullshitting and Ruggie being weird as of lately, this one is one he might’ve heard before – and so far, had gotten his sorry lion ass out of trouble. But again, time is money – or rather freedom – and those clouds just don’t tickle his feline instincts just the same. And he’s good at telling the weather, too! Damn it.
Nevertheless, he furrows his eyebrows now and observes the sky; smells the wind, the saltiness creeping in his nose like an unwelcomed yet permanent companion, but it doesn’t smell more of rain than usual.
In the end, he sighs and shrugs.
“It’ll be fine. By the time we get there it’ll be gone, so don’t get ya panties in a twist just yet, ‘kay?”
It’s the nicest way he can tell Ruggie to shove it, but he’s a man on a mission to piss off his brother and he won’t let some flimsy little pesky clouds get in the way of his plan. Let a storm be a storm, they’ve encountered many of them. Not a problem at all.
His vice doesn’t seem convinced in the way his ears droop, but drops the topic. “Fine, you do you, Leona.” And with that, he heads back to his post on the lookout.
To be fair, he’s never sailed this particular route – a shortcut if one will, though he won’t let anyone know about rumors he’s heard. He really can’t be assed to hear more complaints of a bunch of scared kittens.
A tricky situation.
On the one hand, he’s pretty much lied to Ruggie; told him he’s sailed this particular route a million times in the past when, in fact, he hasn’t been here a single time. Told him it’s a secret Kingscholar family route, and Ruggie ate the lie up like a five-star dinner, leaving no crumbs.
On the other hand, though, it would save them a week. A week of painful lewding Vil in his head while munching on Kalim’s dreadful crackers that still aren’t any more edible than they had been weeks ago, and don’t seem to get less no matter how many he eats.
The one thing that worries him most, though, are rumors of ships disappearing.
It’s not unheard of for sailors to claim courses; to spread ghost stories of undead soldiers entering the ship in the midst of a storm just so everyone else would avoid it like the plague. But the story just sounded too much like bullshit for him to heed the warning.
Yeah, right, undead soldiers. What is he, twelve? He doesn’t believe in spooky ghosts anymore. Boo, boo. Oh no he’s so very scared! Syke.
He rolls his eye and stares off into the distance. It’ll be fine, it’ll all work out. His plan is perfect after all. That, and he’s got more or less three weeks to convince the merman to stay on the ship and be their personal gold digger- apologies, gold diver. Without any second thoughts, of course.
Anyway, this pretty much sounds like a future Leona problem. He turns to nap in the sun because heck, why not; wakes up just a bit too groggy for his liking when the sun is already setting. Vil, by this point, has been returned to the barrel on deck by presumably Jack and they’re talking something something sunset something, but Leona can’t be assed to listen in on the conversation.
His thoughts trail off, and he can’t help but wonder how Farena will react when he sees the merman. Will he be shocked? Surprised? Oh fuck, he hopes he will be jealous. That would just be too good, seeing that damned red-head seethe with rage and envy as they just sail past the coast, Vil waving those stupidly beautiful fins and presenting himself like the trophy wife he is. And Farena can shout all he wants from his fucking throne, get a heart attack for all he cares and drop dead in anger, and Leona would still be the one who comes out victorious in this encounter.
After all, there’s nothing sweeter than the taste of revenge and proving that stuck up asshole how wrong he was.
He grins to himself, stretching his lazy muscles before sitting up. It’s dark already, the old moon but a small slit barely visible in the last rays of sun that soon disappear behind the horizon; his steps are silent on wood as he makes his way back to his cabin, but finds a certain someone is still outside, all alone and gaze turned upwards. His eyes narrow.
“Where’s your babysitter?” he asks, now observing the deck that is empty but for the two of them before returning to look at the blonde.
“He went to sleep,” Vil simply says, at first not bothering to look at Leona but then turning so their eyes meet. His voice is hushed, and Leona wonders whether it’s in awe of the sky or as to not wake anyone.
He huffs in turn. “I fucking told him to not leave you alone and out of sight,” but his words lack a certain snark. “You could’ve escaped,” he mumbles, just a bit of annoyance mixed in that seems to fade the second those glossy lips turn upwards in a gentle smile.
“But I didn’t, did I?”
It’s … not wrong, Leona admits to himself yet not out loud. And he hates how relieved the words make him feel, in a strange twist of events.
But Vil continues, “I asked him if I could stay. He wanted to bring me back inside, but I wanted to see the lights in the sky. They’re really luminous today.”
The reply is almost too pure for what he’s used to from that nasty mouth, making the merman almost seem… cute, which is a gross thought. His eye is rolled, but he can’t find it in himself to add his usual bite to his reply.
“You’ll get a stiff neck if you look up like that.”
Vil seems just as surprised by the words as Leona himself – and he was the one who had just said them, for fuck’s sake. But the other chuckles nevertheless, shrugs that naked shoulder of his that still is wet and glistening in the dim moonlight, making his single eye follow the motion.
“Well, it can’t be helped. A fish in a barrel is and will forever be one,” he replies meekly, jokingly so.
“Unless taken out,” Leona says then, approaching him.
“Unless taken out,” Vil replies.
Yelps when he is actually taken out, lifted from the water into his arms and apparently very comfortably settling in quickly, leaning his full weight against Leona as if he’d ever gotten permission to do so. Holding onto his shirt, too, like he’s not the one who will bitch about crinkles the next day.
But it’s fine, the captain decides, when he looks down at the surprised expression that speaks volumes about how this was not expected.
“Leona, what—”
“We’re going stargazing, that’s what.”
He doesn’t reiterate any further, simply carrying the man on his arms to the back of the ship; it’s a bit of a secluded place, but it’s okay. Not like he wants anyone else to see them anyway if they happen to come on deck.
“My, what a romantic kidnapping. You surprise me time and time again, Leona.”
… He should’ve dropped Vil. Right then and there on the hard wooden floor. He really should have. Too bad he’s already set him down gently so the idiot can look right upwards without straining his spine, and he seems way too comfortable just laying there, purple eyes following him as he settles next to him.
“Shut up. I just don’t want your bitching ass nagging me if you got neck pain. Your hungover whining was enough for a lifetime and then some,” is his only defense, but it’s weak and that damn fish has the audacity to actually chuckle at him.
“Well, I shall take your courtesy with gratitude then.”
“You better.”
Ugh, he absolutely hates how his voice sounds when he laughs silently, because it’s smooth and clear and almost has a singing tone to it that drives him up the walls. The way those damn long fucking lashes flutter close for a moment, right before those eyes open up once more and purple hues gaze up at the sky once more.
“You know,” Vil speaks up and his tone is gentle, unusually so, “when I was younger, I actually did go to the surface from time to time.”
It’s an unexpected admission and Leona turns his head sideways to fully look at the merman then; it’s a bit ridiculous how, now that they’re laying next to each other, Vil is about a meter longer than him, fins included. Makes him feel small, almost.
But mostly, he’s curious. “Ya did? Thought you hated humans ‘n’ shit.”
“One doesn’t negate the other,” he says, “I came at night to look at these lights. I’ve never met a human until…” A pause. “Ah.”
Leona tries to probe. “Until?” he asks, but is met with a shake of his head.
“Nevermind. It’s a rather unfortunate story.”
“Hey.” A gentle punch to Vil’s shoulder who frowns in turn. “You can’t just blue-ball me on that one. So, you met a human…”
“… that probably died.”
The statement makes him sober up a little; not that he’s drunk, but this moment almost made him feel like it. Not anymore, though, and his own gaze returns to the sky as well.
“Tell you what, Vil. In our homeland, we say all those that die turn to stars at night to watch over us. All our ancestors up there. Weird, isn’t it?”
“It isn’t. It’s lovely.”
Again, it makes Leona halt. He’d have thought Vil would laugh at him, but instead he replies in such sincerity he wants to scream at him to stop that shit. And again, his view is one certain merman and him alone, how he raises his hand towards the sky; fingers moving as if they want to touch but can’t. He swallows.
“I wonder if my father is up there as well,” he whispers, his tone simply… curious. Those amethyst eyes, shining under the starlight like a true gemstone, blinking in wonder. It’s unfair, Leona thinks, when he looks at Vil. He’d much rather have lewd thoughts than sappy conversations.
Maybe.
“Your father dead?” he asks in turn, voice silent as if to not interrupt the moment.
Vil shrugs ever so slightly. “I don’t know.” That extended hand finds its way back to his chest that raises and lowers calmly. The golden necklaces moving along, dancing on pale skin in the faint shine of the moon and reflecting whatever little light there is. “I… He left eight years ago. Our king sent him on a mission. I have not seen him again ever since.”
There’s a moment of silence. Looking up and away from the blonde, trying to find the answer the other is seeking, but there is none.
“You loved him?” Perhaps he’s getting bold in his questions, but Vil doesn’t seem to mind answering them as he nods.
“A lot.”
That’s … just a feeling Leona can’t relate to, but something inside him makes him glad that he seems to have (had) a family that appreciated him for what he was. He hums silently.
“What’s he like? Maybe…”
“I don’t have any hope of finding him.” The way Vil cuts in his sentence is almost sharp, but the tension eases up just seconds later when he continues, “It’s okay. He’s… He’s a very lovely man. Also a betta, of course. His fins were more red than mine though. He’s the one that…” For a moment, his voice trails off as if deciding whether to carry on or not, but even as his voice becomes more silent, a smile forms on his lips. “… He’s the one who taught me how to speak like humans. How to understand them. Without him, we couldn’t…”
He shifts his body to lay sideways, and now Vil looks directly at him. A bit surprised, probably didn’t think Leona would be staring at him – and, truthfully, he really shouldn’t – but the expression eases into a gentle smile.
Too close.
“I wouldn’t understand you if not for my father.”
His voice is nothing but a hushed whisper; a stupid instinct it is that makes Leona, too, move to lay on his side; the stars seeming so boring when he can look at gems of eyes glistening in the night, when their hands almost touch between them; when too close becomes way too close;
“I better thank him if we find him,” he whispers in reply, because he’s an idiot, and Vil chuckles, because they’re both idiots.
“You better do.”
It’s too strange how it feels like the ice has broken and he fell into the freezing depths. How he feels too hot all over all the same when warm breath ghosts over his skin. How his vision shifts in and out of focus, wanting to look at all that Vil has to offer yet wanting to close his eyes. How lids halfway close and their foreheads touch, the merman radiating a warmth that is comforting and distressing alike.
The skin of Vil’s hand is soft when the ghost of a touch trails across it and fingers intertwine. How stupid, when they have nothing to say and yet so much. How did he get here? How does he get out? How can he stop himself from moving in when Vil mirrors the motion?
How can he resist, when…
“Leona!”
Oh Gods help him he will murder Ruggie one day or another.
He almost shoots up and out of range of the dangerous siren, ears perking up at Ruggie who just- stares at them. Great, amazing, he now has two pairs of eyes on him like he’s not only a clown, he’s the entire fucking circus in town. What is it anyway with people pulling him from the best fucking moment by calling him by his name?
“Am I interrupting something?” The fucking gall he has, to even ask something like that. Makes Leona growl in turn.
“’Am I interrupting something’ my ass. Ruggie, what the fuck do you want now?”
He finds it’s the appropriate amount of aggression over being not cockblocked because he definitely was not going for a kiss right there, even if it makes his vice twitch in surprise.
“Look, I’m sorry to interrupt the kissy kissy times, but like, this is kinda… a bad situation?”
For one, that guy should be glad he’s well out of range for the lion or else his hands would be on his throat strangling him to death. Vil doesn’t seem quite happy either, hiding his face in his hands and groaning like he’s been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t.
This is just splendid. Because even if he could shoo that guy away, the mood is sour now. Even spoiled milk would taste better than this shit any day, and he groans as well, getting up.
“What’s bad enough that you gotta be a pain in the ass in the middle of the night?” he finally asks, pushing his hair vaguely where it belongs again.
But the other just nudges his head. Leona frowns. Another nudge of his head. Deeper frowning. A stare, a pause. Then, it clicks and Leona rolls his eye.
“Fine, sleepy times for the fish it is,” he says as if Vil isn’t right next to him on the ground; picks him up and throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes – met with complaints and a struggle – but still carries him towards his cabin, eyes not leaving the smaller one. “This better be important.”
He can hear the merman over his shoulder complain more, curse some, but opts to ignore the woes, for he’ll have more of that tomorrow anyway and it’s already pissing him off more than it should. Way to ruin everything, thanks for nothing.
And over with it he gets quick; no matter what Vil says, he just dumps him back in the barrel in his cabin and leaves without another word. Why, well, he doesn’t know either, but it just feels like if he was to say anything, it’d be the wrong thing either way, knowing him. It’s easier to escape from an uncomfortable situation rather than face it, he finds. Has always worked so far.
“So, what’s the deal, Rug?” he says and makes no effort to hide his annoyance no matter how apologetic the mutt looks.
But his eye widens when he hears the other say,
“We’re stuck in a strong current.”
That’s it.
Officially, this is it. Verdict spoken.
Leona is the greatest ass of all times.
Vil can’t even pretend to not care; how could he, when just moments ago Leona had seemed like a gentleman, so alluring and irresistible, when they had been so close he could almost feel his lips, just to be dumped back in this shitty man-cave.
And fuck Ruggie, too.
Yet, most of all, he’s mad with himself. Hadn’t he just reprimanded himself for liking the lion just a bit too much when, in fact, he may as well be looking for his brother?
He’s a man of no morale. This isn’t how he was raised. Gods, he’s such an idiot. How can he justify himself now, when he promised himself to that boy so long ago yet he’s already dashing after another human? Stupid, that’s what he is. A bit of looking at the stars and he feels like his head is in the clouds, like a fool, an utter buffoon.
It tears him up, because he wants to stick to his promise. He truly does. But when Leona had been next to him, his voice so gentle and smooth, the moonlight hitting those features just right to make him seem most enticing, when they had gotten along so well recently …
Isn’t his heart the most treacherous of all?
How his hands had itched to touch him, trace his face once more; when their fingers intertwined and it just felt right; he’s lying to himself when he thinks his heart only holds one and none other, a damn liar when he pretends he doesn’t care for the stupid lion. Liar, when he pretends he didn’t want to kiss him, too.
He closes his eyes, groaning silently into his hands. So very idiotic. How can he face either of them, when the promise of years ago is like a thin thread ready to snap any moment? How can he face his father who had taught him human speech just so he could find the boy again and talk?
Never once had it crossed his mind he’d fall for the stupid captain, and yet here he is like an idiot teenager blushing like mad over being caught by the vice, wanting to go back and just kiss the idiot until they both can’t anymore while at the very same time just hide in his barrel and never come out again.
And to make matters worse, Leona doesn’t return to him.
At least not before he ends up falling asleep, and he’s not there either after he wakes up. The bed empty and Vil can hardly tell if it had been used at all that night.
Not only does it make him feel awkward all over, but also uneasy in the way that he wonders if Leona is avoiding him purposefully. No one actually comes into the cabin and he truly wonders whether it’s for rumors spreading or some emergency as Ruggie had insinuated.
He doesn’t like it one bit.
But the line of questioning doesn’t hold up for long as his gaze wanders to outside – when just yesterday the sky outside had been clear, he now realizes quickly that it has darkened considerably. The rocking of the ship getting worse, too, and he opts to believe it truly must be one of these storms Jack had told him about.
But- it doesn’t make sense, right? Only one night’s worth of time has passed; the clouds had seemed far off just before he was taken back inside, and now they’re hanging low around them. The way the wind rattles the glass is almost frightening in how it threatens to break in, and with each passing minute the shaking gets worse.
Splatters of water against the glass, now, and he presumes it’s the rain Jack has told him about as well. It’s all so terribly confusing, and all he can do is hold on for dear life onto the rim of his makeshift home; things that are loose start to fall off whichever surface and scatter on the messy floor and he, too, feels like he’ll be tipped over if this continues.
The chair starts to slide the same as his little table, falling over. Vil on the other hand, he’s getting more nauseous than should, the violent shaking of the ship making his head spin. Then, a loud crash, a bang, and he twitches heavily. Blinding lights. He’s dizzy.
It’s only a matter of time until he, too, trips over and his water spills all over Leona’s floor.
Too painful when his body gets thrown to one side of the tipping ship, then to the other; where up and where down is, he barely can tell in the way he rolls, each and every attempt at holding onto something a waste of time when whichever furniture slips from his grip or drags him along.
Another loud bang, deafening, the bright light following blinding him for a moment.
It’s then, when he’s pressed firmly against one wall, that his usual ‘home’ threatens to crash into him, tumbling at him with a speed he’s unsure he can evade. After all, he’s nothing but a fish on dry land now, unable to move.
All he can do is cover his face with his arms and curl up protectively.
How much is it worth?
He doesn’t know.
All there is left is to wait for the impact.
Any second.
Now.
But…
It never comes, the sound of wood against wood lost in the mess that is this storm; he hasn’t even noticed how he had squeezed his eyes shut, but now that he opens them again slowly to see why he wasn’t crushed, a familiar figure comes into view, dripping wet and yet so very imposing.
“Leona…”
His voice gives in, nothing but a breath on his quivering lips as he looks up. He turns and Vil can see dark hair clinging messily to his face, a testimony that he had been caught in the storm outside as well. Clothes sticking to him, he’s drenched, but for all it’s worth, he has never been more glad to see the idiot lion.
“You okay?” the other asks as he kneels down next to his pathetic figure. It’s clear in the way he handles himself that he’s way more used to the rocking of the boat, but even he tumbles and falls when it takes another turn for the other side and they’re both sliding across wooden floors.
And surely, Vil expects to hurt all over once more, but…
He doesn’t.
And he squeezes his eyes shut once more, because that’s all he can do now; the thunder outside makes him flinch and tremble, but now there’s a pair of strong arms around his body, holding him close. Dragging him somewhere. He doesn’t need it, he thinks, but when that grip tightens around his slim figure, protective as can be, he feels …
Secure.
A breath released he didn’t know he was holding. The sound of scattering far away, and he realizes they’re not moving a lot anymore; stuck in a corner that Leona has apparently deemed safe, holding onto each other tightly, neither say a word. Not when the ship tips left and right, not when his make-up spreads over the wet floor, not when it all comes to an end eventually.
Not when they lie with each other for longer than necessary yet not long enough.
Not when he feels Leona burying his face in his wet hair, not when he buries his own against his chest. Not when those arms hold him close and not when the movement finally calms down.
Only when his own fingers find the fabric that clings to the lion and grip into it, Vil dares to speak.
“You saved me.”
His voice barely carries over the rain that still violently rages against the window but he’s sure they reach who it’s meant for. A small nod, and he knows he’s been heard. Embraces Leona tighter, because that’s all he can do when his heart pounds in his chest, when being close is the only thing he needs right now.
They stay like this for a while and the lion’s heartbeat is a soothing rhythm in his ears. It drowns out all else that isn’t important.
Because like this, isn’t it just fine?
When Leona shifts and his calloused hands, rough as they are, ever so gingerly push his wet strands out of his face; when Leona looks at him like he’s a treasure he just protected, when an emerald eye stares deep into his own. When knuckles rest against his cheek, lingering, before his thumb wipes away a drop of water that had run down his face.
It’s just fine, when Leona doesn’t say a thing and yet those eyes tell him how glad he is that he’s not badly hurt.
Just fine, when maybe this is finally the moment.
Fine,
until
it isn’t,
and he knows he’s betraying his heart. A promise is a promise. He cannot…
Even when he leans in. It’s not fine. It never has been, it never will. Not when he feels the ghost of a touch and those lips are rough but enthralling, a pledge and a threat the same, but he can’t take it.
How can he forgive himself when he lies to Leona, too?
How can he kiss him when he’s never meant to be his to begin with?
And so he draws back before he can get a taste, hands between them pushing away the human. Shaky, but decisive. Eyes begging for forgiveness when he doesn’t know where to start and where to end.
“I can’t…” is all he can whisper, swallowing, his jaw clenched. “I can’t, Leona. I just can’t.”
“Why?”
Vil can’t blame him for the bitterness in his voice. Can’t defend himself, either, but tries to nevertheless. He doesn’t want this – whatever it is that happened the past weeks – go to waste, and yet here he is…
“My heart is promised to someone else already.
“I can’t lie to you.
“I’m sorry.”
And his eyes search for something on the other’s face; an emotion, maybe anger, maybe sadness, fury, anything. He’d be glad if he was yelled at, he’d be fine with that.
Yet,
when the hold around his body loosens and his face becomes a blank slate, when that lingering hand retreats slowly from his face, he knows.
He has his answer.
He ruined it all, didn’t he?
The scoff spilling from Leona’s lips hurts more than it should. The disappointment in it, the disgust; yet who he is disgusted at, Vil can’t tell. All he knows is that the warmth of the other body is gone soon and he’s left alone on the floor, looking up because that’s all his pathetic self can do.
“Leona, I’m sorry—”
“Shove it.” The tone makes Vil twitch; he tries to raise at least his upper body, but before he can reach out to the pirate, he’s already retreating towards the door. “Y’know what? I’m just fucking glad I was gonna ditch ya in Sunset Savannah anyway.”
His eyes widen as a smirk settles on Leona’s face, his voice mocking.
“What are ya sorry for? Dumb bitch, didn’t ya think I’d do all of this to make you stay and stop being a pain in the ass? God, look at how pathetic you are, thinking I’d have a thing for you.”
The words throw a blanket of silence over them that is deafening. The calculating coldness in Leona’s eye speaks more than a thousand words, and Vil realizes that it’s nothing but the truth.
The truth that he always had been supposed to be left at their destination.
The truth that Leona, from the very beginning, had made a fool of him.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
Lips shivering, body trembling. When the door closes behind that human, he can do nothing but stare. Stare, and stare longer. So long until his vision goes blurry. Until he feels a strange wetness rolling down his cheek he’s never felt before, but he lets it happen. When his breath gets shaky and inhaling hurts, when it all turns into a sob.
He can’t stop it when his heart hurts and he realizes all of this had been his plan all along.
Toyed with, and he fell for it like an idiot.
Why did he have to say what he said?
In the end, he wished he could’ve stayed just a little longer in this comfortable lie.
His cries fall on deaf ears.
He feels empty.
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