#M!A || Before Mermay

[livingproofoftbd]

sing me a song and let me love you

rated m | 12.4k words

tags: siren gnf, childhood friends to lovers, non graphic violence, fluff and angst, time skips, possessive behaviour

Dream doesn’t know what George is, all he knows is he has a tail and gills and can breathe underwater. He shows Dream one day, takes him underwater with a quick kiss to his cheek that grants him the ability to temporarily breathe underwater. He speaks five languages his school taught human languages as extra credit coursework.

or, dream meets george, a Siren, at eight years old

-

for @promise-me-moon for a mermay gift exchange the rats decided to do! (the fic writers did not finish before may ;-;) i hope you like it!! i loved writing it when i wasnt crying over writers block :p

[wangxianficrecs]

Ebb and Flow by trulywicked

Ebb and Flow

by trulywicked (@trulywicked)

M, 10k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian has not been having an easy time of it since his mate left to reclaim his home and now he's beginning to wonder if the promise to return had all the substance of seafoam. Kay's comments: Mermay is once again gifting us the best of the best merxian and merji stories and I'm enjoying the hell out of it! Poor Wei Wuxian is really going through it in this story. Got knocked up by Lan Wangji who had to leave soon afterwards to fight against the Wens and ended up kicked out by the Jiangs. The angst is strong in this one, but luckily, Wei Wuxian also gets pampered a lot to make up for it. Also really loved the intersex mer biology in this one! Excerpt: Wei Wuxian felt his pup squirming in his belly and curled up tighter. He'd been unable to make a nesting chamber. Not enough solid coral to manage. How was he going to give birth? How could he protect his pup once he birthed them if he couldn't even protect himself before the birth? He hated this. Hated being vulnerable and afraid, hated not knowing what to do, hated being alone. He should have gone with Lan Zhan. Even without a secure territory he'd have had a pod. Would have had others to help protect him and the pup. Unless...unless Lan Zhan had lied. What if Lan Zhan hadn't really wanted a mate and a pup? Or not wanted him as a mate and mother of his pups. What if Lan Zhan had just wanted sex and nothing more? What if he'd lied so he didn't have to deal with a strange, clingy mer making stupid demands of him? It made sense to Wei Wuxian's pregnancy and stress addled brain.

pov wei wuxian, pov lan wangji, merpeople, merperson wei wuxian, merperson lan wangji, mpreg, jiang family bashing, wei wuxian needs a hug, pregnancy, emotional hurt/comfort, angst and hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, reunions, pregnant wei wuxian, good uncle lan qiren, good sibling lan xichen

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[aw-shizz-here-we-go-again]

•|| Seally Cute ||• (Mermay 2024)

Prompt 3: Seally Cute

Featuring: Geno, Goth, and Reaper!

Ship(s): Afterdeath.

Summary: Playtime with the kiddo! <3

Warnings: Blood from a hunt

Credits: Leviathantale and the Mermay Bingo I'm using are both by @skumhuu!

Read tags for notes.

"Dad? Dad??? Daddy!"

Geno woke up to a small, high-pitched voice yelling in his ear. He let out a tired grunt, then rolled over on his side as his tail gently swatted the other person away.

He smiled as he heard them let out a playful squeak, and he was almost immediately bombarded by a small body barreling into him. He yawned, then blinked blearily at the mischievous attacker as he rubbed his eyesockets. "Oh? What's up, my little clamshell?"

The young selkie in front of Geno puffed out their cheeks, flipping their black-and-white seal tail back and forth as they responded. "Mama's out huntin', and 'm boreddd! I wanna do sumthin'! Sumthin' else then jus' sleepin'!"

"You could practice walking, you know." Geno suggested, raising a bonebrow up at the child. He sat up and stretched, slight popping his bones as he did so. "You still haven't even tried taking your seal skin off yet, Goth."

Goth grumbled something under his breath, glowering down at the iceberg they were both on. ". . ."

Geno tilted his head to the side, wrapping his arms around his kid and hugging him close. "What was that? Is there something wrong?"

"...'s scary." Goth muttered quietly, burying his face into his father's chest. "A-an' I did try. Couldn't do it though..."

"Oh, Gothy," Geno squeezed Goth a little tighter in his embrace, wrapping Goth's tail around his own as he kissed the top of Goth's head. "It's alright, we'll figure something else out then."

"Swimmin'?" Goth asked hopefully, gazing up at Geno with big shiny eyelights. There was no mistaking it, the kid really knew what he was doing when he chose to pull the puppy eyes on his dad.

Geno sighed, giving Goth a defeated look. He didn't even attempt to resist, knowing that he would cave quickly anyways. "Okay okay, let's go swimming."

"Yay!" Goth wiggled his way out of Geno's grip, then proceeded to nudge and tug Geno towards the edge of the iceberg where the water was. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

Geno chuckled, relenting as he playfully shoved Goth into the icy sea before hopping in to join his kid. "Rather eager, aren't we?"

"You never lemme go swimmin' without ya, so duh!" Goth pouted, swishing his tail as he drifted around Geno in a lazy circle. He then sped up, swimming around Geno in faster loops. "C'monnn! Let's play tag or something!"

"Oho, you want to challenge me?" Geno asked in amusement, raising a bonebrow as Goth nodded in response. "Well then, let the games begin..."

.

.

.

Reaper was returning back home from... doing whatever he was doing while he was out, most likely hunting due to the blood on his teeth, and he surfaced to get a breath of air just in time to see a certain small selkie fling themselves out of the water to do a flip.

What the heck?

Diving back under the water, Reaper sped up towards the main iceberg that he and his family called home. As he approached, he could see the love of his life- ahem, Geno, ahem -and their child swimming around in circles, seemingly sportively goading each other on.

As Reaper watched, Geno suddenly thrashed his tail as he shot up towards the surface of the water, erupting from the sea and doing a double flip before he came crashing back down.

The leviathan let out a small, quiet laugh at the smug look that Geno shot at Goth, and at the pouty look that Goth had returned back at Geno.

Then Reaper had an idea. A smirk crossed his face as he dove down, deeper and deeper below his family. Once he was down deep enough to not be noticed if he shifted, he activated his leviathan form as he circled around in the icy cold depths, staring up at the two selkies above him.

He then silently and slowly swam up behind Geno, his now massive size absolutely dwarfing his mate. He watched as Goth noticed him, and he saw how the child's eyelights grew as big as saucers as his presence registered in Goth's mind.

Reaper held a finger up to his mouth, gesturing for Goth to stay quiet. He drifted ever so slightly closer to Geno, who seemed mildly confused by Goth's reaction since he hadn't realized that Reaper was behind him yet.

"Hello, darling~"

Reaper purred out an amused giggle as Geno yelped in shock, and he backed up a little bit as the selkie whirled around to face him.

"You-! Seriously, Reaper?! Ugh..." Geno groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nosebone in annoyance, glaring at Reaper in half-hearted anger. "I swear, you are so immature."

"Oh, my dearly sweet beloved, I'm so wounded by your insults!" Reaper whined pitifully, shrinking down into his normal form before dramatically leaning against Geno while holding his hand up to his forehead.

Geno grumbled something under his breath and pushed Reaper off, then narrowed his eyesocket at Goth, who had started giggling. He then sighed in exasperation and threw up his hands. "Both of you! Both of you are so immature! But at least Goth has the excuse of actually being a child."

He swam back up to Reaper and poked the leviathan in the chest, swishing his tail in mild irritation. "But you don't have any excuse!"

"B-but... Geno-senpai, it's just my personality!" Reaper blinked innocently at Geno, intertwining his orca tail with Geno's seal tail.

Geno rolled his eyelight and groaned again, pulling his tail away from Reaper and gently swatting Reaper over the head. "Don't even get started with that! Enough is enough."

Reaper sighed in mock defeat, backing away from Geno to give his love some space. "Alright, alright, if you insist."

Geno hesitated, then swam back over to Reaper to give him a soft, brief kiss before letting go again. "Love you, starfish~"

Before Reaper could sputter out a flustered reply, they both suddenly heard snoring coming from behind them. A quick glance revealed that Goth had fallen asleep, and Geno let out an amused snort. "I suppose playing around tuckered him out. We should be getting back to our iceberg anyways."

"I- uh- uhm, yeah! Mhm!" Reaper replied quickly, still blushing from the kiss. He rapidly flicked his tail and scooped Goth up in his arms, carrying the child as he started swimming to the homeberg. "Let's go!"

Geno followed suit, letting himself be half dragged in the current that Reaper's tail made since he was tired.

.

.

.

"You know, you should really wash up. You still have blood all over your teeth." Geno said with a small yawn, tilting Reaper's head with his hands on Reaper's chin so that he could see the orca's face better.

"Aw, what? Too shy to clean it off for me~?" Reaper purred teasingly, then hesitated and averted his gaze in shame almost immediately afterwards. "...Oh, yeah, right-- nevermind. Uh, forget I said that. Sorry."

Geno winced slightly, shivering not from the cold of the iceberg but rather from the reminder. ". . ."

Reaper shrank in on himself a bit, tears suddenly pricking his eyesockets "I'm sorry, okay? I- I really just can't help it... I'm sorry..."

Geno was quiet for a long moment, then he pulled Reaper into a hug. "It'll... it'll be okay. Just... let's not tell Goth, okay? I'd rather not scare him..."

"Okay..." Reaper muttered back, nuzzling into Geno's embrace. By the True Leviathans, he felt awful, but it wouldn't be an easy fix.

After all, it was his nature.

______________________________________________________________

Start

<-Previous • Next->

Masterlist

[axewchao]

I swore to myself that I would do something for MerMay this year. No real reason, just something I promised myself I'd do.

And after more or less nagging myself to do it all day, I finally did it!

This year's MerMay stars the M&M ship! Morton's been searching the seas all day to find the perfect gift for a pretty Merkoopa he's known for a while, and his efforts paid off in the form of a pretty little pearl!

Makani's never been given such a lovely present before, she feels like the luckiest girl in the entire ocean! Expect lots of nuzzles and kisses in your near future, Mort~ X3c

[little-annie]

Steddie Mermay anyone?

***

The night sky's a hazy sort of blue-black, the stars swimming throughout the wispy clouds as fish do through the coral below the calm waters. From where he sits, wood solid below him and murky depths beneath that, Steve sees not much more than the two blending together; night sky meeting ocean waters in a never ending blur of uncertainty, intrigue and mystery. 

Whispers between lips and the ears of strangers and kin, stories have been told seemingly for centuries. Forwhat lurks beneath the clouded waters is what seals the fates of many men. Only the scarred and hardly lucky left to tell their tales. 

It'd been an elder fisherman who'd told Steve of an evening from his past. Dark eyes, porcelain skin and water wet curls accompanied by the deadly hymns of a creature that'd pierced his skin with nails black as the night sky and dragged him to what he assumed to be his death.

The docks were busy as they'd sat side by side, the screeches of gulls in the distance and the nattering of the market to their rear, old Gus had muttered with whiskey stained breath as he continued.

“ ‘twas a scary thing boy, ain't no other thought in my mind than I'd die right there. I ain't even remember much of it. Seems to ‘ave faded with time I think. Jus’ when I saw that thing's face and suddenly I was under water, bleeding from my arm and pulled along by those damn claws.”

Gus had paused for a moment then, scratching at the greying scruff of his chin as if in thought, ageing clouding eyes squinting into the midday sun, he grumbled, “Ain't even remember how I got back to town for Christ's sake. Woke to the gulls screaming something awful right here on this bench, soaked from ass to teeth, head throbbin’ and m’ arm wrapped in a mess of seaweed.”

At the time Steve had simply hummed, hat hanging low on his head shielding his eyes and mole dotted cheeks from the sun. He'd stop to take a nap in the warmth before he set out for a noon-hour fish. Truthfully he hadn't asked Gus a damn thing, the old bastard just plopped down next to him with a grunt and sorta just started rambling. 

But that was days, weeks ago now and with the nerve to find something of substance, to track down the creature he'd heard so much about, Steve was out on the waters for what felt like the 100th night in a row.

He's yet to have seen anything of grandeur, only ever the whispers of hymns in the breeze and the ripple of water when scale skinned bodies have dove from his devoted gaze. 

Though that's not to say such creatures' eyes haven't fallen upon him. 

Beyond the stillness of death tainted waters, nestled in the jaggedness of stone and rock nearest the shores, floats with a sense of ease a creature whose eyes reflect the starry onyx of the night skies and the silent but waiting silhouette of a man who it hungers for.

This being knowing with a sense of certainty that someday soon the breaking of golden flesh would be felt beneath its teeth and the sweetness of the man's very life's force on its tongue.

***

Because at 37 weeks pregnant, I don't know when I'll ever have the time or energy to finish this 💁🏻‍♀️

[blinddreams24]

Message

A Mermay Prompt

Masterlist

Prev / Next

“U-U-Ugh!” Complained the glitchy voice of your new companion. You were starting to understand why his name was Error. “Wh-Why did-d you ha-ha-have t-to nest-st s-so far away-ay-ay-ay?” It was like a broken record. You tried not to let it get to you but it was really annoying that every few minutes he’d complain like a fussy child. Big man baby ribbon eel.

“We’re Only One More Mile Away Error!” Blue chirped. He didn’t seem phased in the slightest by Error’s behavior. “Thank You For Agreeing To Come! It Really Means A Lot To Me!” He swam closer to Error but not close enough to touch. Error had been very strict about touch when you’d met him. So much so that he’d almost immediately attacked you even though you hadn’t even approached him. Blue had gotten between you and calmed Error with surprising speed. Error didn’t threaten you again after that.

“M-M-Mmh.” Error grumbled. “Wh-Whatever. You o-o-owe me-me f-f-for this-is.” He didn’t clarify what exactly Blue owed him. He also didn’t seem like the type ask favors of people, opting instead to get his own hands dirty.

Blue’s smile didn’t waver. “Of Course, Error! You Know I Love To Help!”

“Mhm-m-m.”

It was weird.

You could see the power in this beast. The way the water rippled and sharpened around him into silvery blue strings that whipped around in his agitation. The way Dream had immediately put Blue between him and Error before retreating back to his den, leaving you in Blue’s more than capable hands. The power blazing in his mismatched eyelights that made Nightmare’s cyan eye look tame. The way he didn’t hesitate in any decision because he was certain nothing could stop him anyways.

And yet he was easily calmed by your fellow dolphin siren.

Not completely calmed, Error still growled and hissed and was overall aggressive, he was just less likely to do anything rash while Blue was talking. Which encouraged you to keep Blue talking.

“So, uh…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “How are you both doing?” It felt dumb to ask, but you didn’t know either of these people really.

Blue chirruped. “I’m Doing Great! Thank You For Asking, Y/n! And How Are You? Does That Spot Still Itch?”

“Yeah, a little bit. But it’s not as bad as earlier. Thank you, by the way.”

“Of Course! I Am Always Glad To Help!”

“Wh-Wh-What a-are you ta-ta-talking about-out?” Error grouched, his brows furrowed at being left out of the conversation.

“Y/n Had A Suckerfish Stuck To Them And I Helped Them Get It Off.” Blue supplied.

Error laughed and his eyes locked onto you even though he was still talking to Blue. “A-A-Aww, Blue-ue-ue! Y-You c-c-could have-ave l-left it for a-a-a-a f-few min-min-minutes longer! I-I-I would-ld-ld h-have enjoy-joy-joyed th-that!”

Blue scowled sternly. “Error, We Don’t Leave People In Pain Just Because It’s Funny.”

“Y-Y-You don’t-t.” Error grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

Blue responded with a heavy hearted sigh. “Let’s Not. How Are You Doing, Error? Y/n Did Ask Both Of Us.” He turned the question on the destroyer curiously.

Error scoffed. “M-M-My peace-eace was int-interup-rup-rupted b-b-by two abom-ominations an-and an annoy-oy-oying dolphin-in. I’m ter-ter-terrible.”

“Aw, Thanks!” Blue whistled happily at the insult.

Okay. There was either something terribly wrong with these two or you were missing important information.

You had a feeling you wouldn’t get an answer to that.

“Y/n? Wait, Blue?!”

“Cross!” You and Blue chirped at the same time, turning toward the voice.

Cross caught sight of Error and hesitated as he came closer. “What are you doing here, Blue?” He asked, reaching out for your hand.

“Mweheheh!” Blue laughed. “I Am Here Because Y/n Invited Me! How Are You Doing, Cross?”

“Uh, I’m good, I guess. Y/n, what’s going on?” Cross’s tense gaze didn’t leave Error and the eel gave him a big toothy grin. He pulled you closer to himself.

You let him pull you. “So, you know how Killer got hyped up on positivity and Nightmare helped him balance out? And now Boss has been acting really tired?”

Cross’s brows scrunched together as he looked down at you. “…He has been really tired… but what does this have to do with Blue and Error?” His eyes shot back to the destroyer, who was starting to look annoyed.

Blue noticed Error’s frown. “Mweh! Would You Like To Answer That, Error?”

At the attention, Error relaxed and scoffed. “Y-Y-You t-tell him, B-B-Blue. I d-don’t care-are.” He crossed his arms and looked away.

“Of Course.” Blue smiled, as always, and turned to address Cross. “Y/n Had The Amazing Idea Of Inviting Me And Error Over To Help Nightmare Get Rid Of The Lingering Positivity In His Body. Dream Has Had A Similar Problem Before And Asked Me To Help As Well.”

Cross’s eyes darted between the three of you, more concerned than confused. He pulled you away. “I’d like to talk to y/n real quick.”

“Mweh! Of Course! We’ll Be Right Here When You’re Ready!” Blue chirped

“Sp-Sp-Speak f-for yourself-self.”

As Blue started entertaining Error, you and Cross took a sidebar. Cross pulled you around and held you by the shoulders.

“Y/n. What were you thinking? You left the pod and went to get Blue and Error all by yourself? Are you insane?” He snapped. You could see the worry behind his anger.

“I wasn’t alone. Dream helped me-.”

“That’s worse! Do you not remember what happened the other day?”

“I remember!” You shoved him away. “I’m the one that went through that! But Ink wasn’t there this time and Dream has only ever been nice to me. He just wants to fix things with Nightmare. Cross, he wants to help. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Cross hesitated and glanced back at your guests. “…Maybe. I’d say he has good intentions, but the guys… they won’t believe him for a second. He could just make things worse.”

“That’s why he’s not coming. Cross.” You pulled his focus back to you. “I brought Error and a message and I haven’t delivered either. Could you please help me?” You pleaded.

He glared at you, his eyelights dilating at you. “You’re ridiculous. Fine, I’ll help. I’ll let the guys know what’s going on. Just wait here and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. Be safe.”

Cross turned to your guests. “Blue, I will be leaving for a little while. Guard y/n, would you?” You punched Cross’s arm. You could take care of yourself!

Blue smiled. “I Will Help In Any Way I Can!” He chirped happily.

With that, Cross sped off for only a few minutes before returning with Dust. They escorted you and your guests into the trench while Error kept puffing up proudly and flashing his colors every time he glanced at Dust. Sure Dust wasn’t as pretty, but he didn’t have to rub it in.

You and Cross crested the edge of the trench first and you froze. Now that you knew, it was much easier to spot Nightmare’s exhaustion but you would have noticed anyways. The leviathan was laid out on the bottom of the trench, Killer circling his head and Horror worrying at his hand. Despite the worry from the boys, he had a comforting smile on his face as he tried to soothe them.

His eye was half-lidded.

“Boss.” Cross called carefully. “We brought help.”

Nightmare looked up and his eye caught on Error. The eel sneered at him, smug. Boss sighed. “I did not need help, Cross. I told you, nothing is wrong.”

“Y-Y-You look l-like a dying-ing st-st-starfish.” Error observed.

“Error!” Blue scolded.

“A-A-Am I wr-wrong??”

Ignoring the chaos that came with Error, you swam forward into the trench. Nightmare watched you swim all the way down. Killer and Horror didn’t acknowledge you in their worry.

“Nightmare,” You started. “I know you’re not okay. We know you’re not okay. Please let us help.”

Nightmare glanced between the four other sirens of the pod. He sighed. “If it will make you feel better.”

“Also, I have a message.”

Nightmare smirked at you. “Oh~? A message? From who?”

“From Dream.”

Everything stopped.

Killer, Horror, and Nightmare were staring at you with varying expressions of shock as Error cackled like a glitchy witch behind you.

“Y/n.” Killer said, tense. “You were talking to Dream?”

“Yes.” You responded boldly. “He’s been very helpful to me. He had a simple request, I said I’d do it.”

“Still.” Killer growled.

“Killer.” Nightmare warned. Killer backed off and swam down to join Horror. Nightmare looked back to you. “What is the message?”

“He said he wants to negotiate peace and I quote; ‘I swear on my apple I will let you have the first say.’ And said you can bring whoever.” You supplied. “Out in the dunes by Blue’s place.”

“What’s an apple?” Killer piped up.

“It’s a fruit on land. I don’t know why Dream was talking about it though. I’ve never seen or heard of an apple-like plant in the water.” You said, just as confused as Killer.

Nightmare hummed vaguely. “It’s not a normal apple. Y/n, did he set a date?”

“Uh… no. I think he wanted me to ask you.”

“Good. I will take time to recover and then I’d like you to be my messenger, y/n, to discuss a time to meet with my brother.”

“What?!?!” Yelled four sirens at once.

You smiled. “I’d love to, Nightmare.”

[septnautical]

"I heard you shout. Nightmares again?"

I think this could fit schneep and Marvin?

(Used this as an opportunity for a big reveal of some new stuff for Marvin! Happy Mermay!!)

Another night- another horrible nightmare plagues Marvin’s mind. They always feel so real…

This one is… different though. He’s staring at… a version of himself. Himself stuck in his warper state- those bright pink alien eyes staring straight through him. He watches his other self get stiffer- become more robotic- and he feels himself following after. He panics- wanting to fight the sensation but his body is locking up. The warper him just barely tilts his head towards Marvin before speaking.

“Why are you denying what we are?”

“W-What?!” Marvin stammers in fear.

There’s no emotion on the other him’s face, “We are not like the other hybrids. We are not organic, we are not human. We are machines, made to serve a purpose. Why do you keep denying what we are?”

“Because I’m more than that!” Marvin shouts back, “Warpers may be machines but I… I'm me! I’m Marvin!”

“Your feeble attempts to cling to your humanity are making you weak,” The warper him says, “A human mind has so much potential. So much to unlock. You could be more powerful than any warper ever made. Maybe even on par with the architects. Yet you turn away from what you could be. Why?”

It suddenly warps so it and Marvin are face to face, pink eyes meeting teary blue.

“Are you afraid, WH-005?”

And for a moment… the voice sounded just like Zeke’s.

Marvin shoots awake and gasps, pushing himself up in the sand to shakily try to breathe. Fresh water over his gills seems to calm him down as he grips over his heart. His… heart that he can see through his chest- beating and pumping blood. But, he feels so disconnected from it. Like his body was turning into metal. And it scared him to his very core.

He yelps in surprise and fear as he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. Then, he sees a goggled face and relaxes some. It’s just Henrik…

“I heard you shout…” The stalker hybrid says quietly, “More nightmares?”

Marvin is quiet but then slowly nods. His voice cracks a bit as he mumbles, “…t-they just keep getting worse, Hen… I-I…!”

Henrik is quick to wrap up the younger brother in a hug and shushes him gently. “It is only a dream, Marvin… they cannot hurt you.”

The warper mer is quiet in his arms for a few beats, trying to find comfort in his embrace. But the dream still lingered like poison in his mind. He pushes himself out and swims upward. “T-That’s just it, Hen! It’s… it’s not just a dream… I-it’s things I’ve been worried about- worried that I’m… I’m too different f-from…!” He cuts himself off as he bites his lip, trying not to let tears linger in his eyes.

“M-Marvin what are you-?” Schneep tries to say. But Marvin hurriedly swims past him, towards the mouth of the cove.

“I- I need to look for answers…!” Marvin says quickly then warps away before Henrik can even get up to chase after him.

———

Marvin appears in the lost river and he blinks in confusion. “…why… am I here?” He asks, his voice echoing slightly in the dark cavern. He shudders, holding his arms tight around him. He hates it down here… here is where Zeke-

You want to find answers, right? A thought echoes through his head. And with the thought comes a feeling. Pulling him forward. Like an instinct. A need.

Marvin trembles, his tails juddering in place. But, maybe there were answers here somewhere. He shakes his head and swims after the feeling, going towards the strange alien-like arches that lead to his destination.

Though, whatever this feeling is… it’s not leading him to where Zeke had him. That was a small white suit wreck- a crude Alteran attempt at making warpers themselves… at least from what he can remember. It was all really fuzzy. But now… this is leading him to a really scary looking building. One that it seems even the white suits don’t touch. Probably because it looked like it was destroyed by… something. Something big. And the entire thing was submerged underwater. Which served Marvin just fine.

Still- looking at the strange glowing green structure hidden amongst the darkest parts of the Lost River sent shivers down the warper’s spine. But, he swallowed his fear and swam inside.

Inside was a confusing labyrinth of architecture he had rarely seen. Strangely glowing and… there were so many things locked behind glass structures. Marvin swam into an open room and gasped as he saw fuana specimens tacked onto displays. He felt sick as he saw a rabbit ray… and a huge egg that kinda reminded him of Anti.

He quickly swam out of that place- seeing massive claw marks scratched into the walls and dents of damage. But soon enough he entered a place that felt way too familiar… yet like nothing he had ever seen before.

It was horrifying… an expansive room filled with- warper parts. Several parts just left in construction- an inactive warper discarded and thrown on the floor, leaving that horrid green cage open. Just like the one that Zeke kept him for weeks, back in that wrecked Alterra copy. Clearly it had been a poorer copy of this. This… this is where the original warpers must have been made.

Seeing this all has Marcin’s heart pounding wildly, his skin raked with goosebumps. Still… this place had to have the answers he was looking for, right? The answer to what he was… was he human? Was he a machine? Was he too different from his brothers? …looking around this place though, he’s not sure this has the answer he wants to hear.

As he swims forward into the lab he tries to look around for something… he’s not exactly sure what. Surely there must be information in here… like a PDA or something?

When suddenly, his tail brushes against some kind of dark cube with glowing green lines- and lights and machines start to glow and whirl around him. Marvin freezes and whips around to look- only for some of those green metal bars and wires to crash into him and hold him in place. Marvin instantly starts to panic and fights against the cage, “no no!! Not again! L-Let me go!!”

He tries to warp but whatever this stuff is made of is suppressing his powers! He feels panicked tears welling up in his eyes and tries to struggle out more, using his claws to try to get out but the cage grabs his arms and pulls them taunt to the side. Ringing is starting up in his ears, he left his mask at the cove! He can’t lose himself here! But he feels his second pair of eyes trying to open, feels his warper instincts trying to claw their way to the surface through his panic.

One of the 4 pronged fabricators creaks loudly across the ancient ceiling as it comes to rest in front of Marvin. A blue light washes across his body, scanning him. Then, a robotic voice garbles out, almost too glitched and corrupted to understand:

‘Warper agent active but incomplete. Processing power not at full capacity.’

“What?! W-What does that mean?? P-Please just let me go! I’m not just a warper I-I’m-!” Marvin sobs. But the machines don’t listen. The fabricator arm zooms around Marvin- then latches onto his neck, inserting sharp tips under his armor.

‘Detecting damage in miniaturized phase chip. Warper agent’s self-repairing technology impaired. Reactiviating-‘

A sharp shock goes through Marvin’s nerves as his back arches and he lets out a strangled gasp of pain. Something in his blood seems to pump faster, feels… different. The… the ringing… is it getting… quieter?

‘Self repairing technology back online.’

Then, the fabricator whirls and then soars over his head, latching attachments against his skull and digging in. He screams bloody murder and tries to thrash against the pain but the cage tightens around him- holding him still.

‘Expanding processing power of Agent’s brain. Please stand by.’

The computerized voice says- now clearer as if talking directly into Marvin’s mind.

Then, there’s nothing but bright blinding pain as something pushes into his skull and electricity fills up Marvin’s whole body. He’s not sure if he’s screaming or not- he feels completely detached from his body. All he can feel is the pain as something is pushed into his mind.

When he next wakes up he’s laying down on his back on one of the tables inside the warper facility. He doesn’t even remember passing out… he groans and holds his head. It’s aching and pounding. But then as he looks out- something in his vision has changed.

He sees- words. Human words. But he can fully read and understand them now. Everywhere he looks he sees things start to get highlighted in blue, like they’re being scanned before information pops up to explain it. Just like a white suit machine. Marvin screams and tries to scramble away but- he can’t escape it! It’s all he can see!

He curls up and holds hands over his eyes, sobbing hysterically in fear. “W-What is this?! W-What’s happening to me?!”

Then, he stiffens slightly and pink blooms in his eyes as words start to fill his mind. It hurts- it hurts and he tries to fight it but there’s just urge to just- repeat the words! Say them outloud- he needs to he’s programmed to-

“Warper agents' brains and central nervous systems been digitally augmented with advanced processing power and remote communications.” Marvin says in a robotic drone, eyes glazing over slightly as the information slips from his lips.

Once he’s done, the pink fades from his eyes and the pressure lightens as he gasps. His limbs begin to tremble again, no longer stiff and robotic. He claps his hands over his mouth and chokes on a sob. That fabricator- it did something to him! Did it make him even more like a warper? More like a machine?!

Marvin rockets off the platform and back out into the rest of the facility- the rest of its freaky secrets blurring around him in his panic. The second he feels like he can warp again he does- crashing into the wall of the cove with a loud thud.

Soon enough Jackie comes into view and tries to help Marvin up, “Marvin?! Marv what’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

The touch is electric, it’s too much- it feels like Marvin’s nerves are on fire! He pushes Jackie away from him and curls up, “D-Don’t touch me!”

Jackie looks hurt, “What? Marvin-!”

More bodies start to swim closer, Marvin can feel Jamie’s tentacles and hear Schneep’s panicking. Another hand tries to touch him and he shoves it off. “Stop please just- stop…!”

“Marvin, I need to see what is wrong…!” Henrik tries to say, “Is your head hurting? Do you need your mask?”

“M-Maybe we should call for Danan?” Chase suggests shakily.

Marvin tries to look out at his brothers- and he gasps as he sees his vision start to scan them. Messages pop up, showing their designations. No no- Marvin didn’t want to see those! He whimpers and the others tense as they see flickers of pink in his eyes.

“Anti, get Marvin’s mask, quickly!” Henrik shouts. The sea dragon hesitates then grabs the mask and hurries over to hand it to Marvin. “Here,” Anti whispers, looking slightly worried.

But all Marvin can see is Anti’s designation- SE-004. And the notes of ‘return to HQ at all costs.’ Marvin chokes on a sob and curls up as much as he can, digging claws into his head as he shouts out, “no no! G-Get- GET AWAY FROM ME!!”

As he shouts this- suddenly, his mask and any lingering tech around the cave start to glow with blue light. Then, they start to float in the water despite their weight. The boys all watch this in awe. Until- the objects all shoot off in different directions, causing even more crashing sounds.

Marvin dares to look up, his eyes glowing blue now instead of pink. The others stare at him with confusion and a bit of fear.

“M-Marvin…” Schneep whispers, “…what did you do?”

[transingthoseformers]

Tis the mermay

Do you have any hcs for merformers Soundshift? Or Overtarapan or Tarmasaurus

SOUNDSHIFT:

So, we've discussed the idea of the mer!soundshift babies being brood parasites, and I just have to suggest that comes from Makeshift (as a shifter). I can see Makeshift's mer design including elements from the Mimic octopus or octopi in general, or at LEAST some brand of fantastical cephalopod. But I lean more towards octopus

I think we've discussed Soundwave being a Deep Sea Fucker before, but I don't think we ever discussed what brand of deep sea fish so I have to suggest his lower half being also some shape or form of cephalopod, but I lean more towards giant squid for the long tentacles and shorter "arms" squid often has. Also glowing striped biolights down the tentacles because YES.

We're definitely taking the "that's just Soundwave's face" approach to his visor. Trust the process.

OVERTARAPAN:

Trepan is based on some incredibly spiny fish from not the deep like Soundwave and Makeshift are, but— OOO O OR MAYBE A SHRIMP OF SOME SORT

Idk what I'd base Overlord on, maybe some sort of cetacean like orcas or whales? Fucker definitely has a notch in his fluke.

Torn between Tarantulas being a human/landmech scientist, some sort of crustacean, or hell a reverse The Little Mermaid situation if we learn in to the fantastical

I can totally see Trepan grooming Overlord or Tarantulas that way cleaner shrimp do and gossiping about his day

Trepan still has retractable claws, though I'm pretty sure mnemosurgery isn't a thing here.

Overlord can echolocate, m. OOO O O BUT WHAT IF IT'S LIKE SPERM WHALE HUNTING BOOMS??

TARNMASAURUS:

I believe in siren!tarn

Pharma's either some kind of wide finned shallows fish or a human/landmech.

Deathsaurus is based on a prehistoric fish, or some sort of "living fossil". That or a massive lancetfish, which look like honest to god sea serpents. Or full sea serpent.

Tarn can and will sing to lure in prey

Tarn has tried to share said prey with his partners, which based upon which direction we go with Pharma has varying results

By siren, as far as looks go I'm imagining Tarn's lower half is almost mammalian looking but it's very fine scales, studded with intricate biolights just like his regular form.

Pharma is not immune to shiny gifts (are any of us?)

[monstersandmaw]

After the cheeky little cliffie I left Laces for Lady on last time, I'm gonna share the resolution before the end of Mermay.

The comments I got on the last chapter gave me absolute life, you have no idea, my fav probably being this one for its sheer ebullience:

As ever, it'll be available to all paying Patreon supporters for a week first on early release, and then it'll be free to access for everyone.

(Catch up on my 18th century, polyamorous (eventually XD), selkie x bucca x human (m/m/f) romance set in smuggling Cornwall here!)

[asirensrage]

East of the Sun, West of the Moon

Title: East of the Sun, West of the Moon Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Uhh...Teen? Pairing: Kokonoi Hajime x Inui Seishu, mentioned!Koko x Akane Word count: 1629 Warnings: Merpeople? Off-screen canon character death. Dubious Consent for a kiss? Non-human/Human relationship. Implied forced magic/species change? unbeta'd Summary: He had paid the price for the magic he desired. Coming to the surface to meet his prize does not go as expected.

Notes: This is my first thing done for Mermay! I wrote it all this morning after a friend of mine suggested this couple. This is my first time writing for them (and technically my first m/m oneshot lol). I hope you enjoy it.

It’s been too long since he’s had a chance to come back to the surface. He’s been busy, working to find the right witch with the right magic for his desires. There is a cost for everything and he had paid heavily, more with parts of his soul than his body. He was shrewd enough to keep the damage to others, not himself. Finally though, he had what he wanted. He was ready to make his courtship fully known and offer something intangible. A freedom from the life that bound her only to the surface. 

He hears the click of those shoes she wears on the wood, vibrating into the dark water and signalling him in the night. A siren’s call already and she’s still wearing legs.

Her hair glows in the moonlight when he finally breaks the surface with barely a ripple. He can’t resist playing, sneaking up on her as he flicks his tail and moves closer. Her silhouette is…different. Is she smaller? Can humans shrink? He didn’t think so but Merfolk can change at will so why can’t humans do the same in some way? They change as they age, he remembers, and he tries to think of how long he’s been gone in human years. The time is strange. 

He floats a little closer, just enough that he can almost make out the different hairstyle that accompanies the shift in her, and he calls out in the grating human speech. “Miss me?” 

She turns quickly, eyes skimming the horizon behind before finally looking down for the voice. He reels back, tail flicking in agitation and fear that he tries to hide. “You’re not Akane.” 

They look like her, similar in features but sharper. Less happy. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like this male version of her. Akane the human was bright like the sun or the coral in the reef that the fish liked to hide in. This person felt more like the moon. A pale reflection of the warmth he sought. 

“So you’re the reason she kept coming here,” they say. Their voice is lower than hers, smoother. “I knew she had a secret but I didn’t think… you’re not human, are you?”

He sneers at the stranger, sharp teeth displayed in warning. “Where is she?”

“Dead.”

He sinks for a moment in shock. Dead? She can’t be dead. He has his magic. He was going to bring her with him finally. She can’t- “Lies!” he hisses. 

They sit down on the wooden platform, heels removed and tucked into the side as they dip their feet into his water. He moves to see them clearer and one side of their face glistenes with the fresh skin of a scar. “There was a fire. She didn’t…” they cut themselves off. “She wanted to bring me here before and I always said no. I…I should have-”

“Fire?” The concept is strange to him. There is no such thing in the water, not outside of the volcanoes and eruptions that sometimes quake under, sprouting heat and pain if one gets too close. 

“Yeah,” the familiar stranger nods. He does not elaborate.

“How do I know it’s not a trick? I will pay for her return.” Humans like gold and shiny things, don’t they? Kokonoi can travel and dig up a treasure for her. 

“I would pay anything for her return,” the stranger says looking towards the moon. Kokonoi pauses. They are pretty, like Akane but different. As the moon is different from the sun. He decides he likes the sharpness of their jaw and the apathy in their eyes. He is stunned by the desire to see if he feels as soft as he looks or if Kokonoi will cut himself on the jagged edges he sees. Akane was bright and soft and kind. Kokonoi was prepared to fight for her in the deep, to keep her safe. He senses that this one would fight himself.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, pushing himself up to rest his arms on the dock and staring at him. He reaches out a long finger, careful with his claw as he touches the leg in the water. 

“Seishu.” The name is as familiar as an old current. “I’m her brother.” 

Brother. Another name for a hatchling. He remembers she said she had one in an old conversation when they first met. He had been intrigued by the figure sitting on the dock, much like Seishu sits tonight. “Koko,” he offers, pointing to himself. It’s the easier version of a name a human can pronounce. One Akane gifted him. 

“Koko…” 

The way he says his name makes him shiver, his spines flickering out. He reaches, trailing his claw over their skin. He’s tempted to make him bleed but Koko does not want competition in this moment, no matter how much he wants to taste. He drags his claw under Seishu’s foot, eyes flashing with pleasure at the way they flinch. 

“What are you?” Koko asks, looking up at her brother. “Akane said she was female. Are you?”

“What? No. I’m her brother. That means I’m male.”

He thinks about it and shrugs. Gender has no meaning, not really, not to a Mer who can change theirs on a whim. If he needs, he can adjust to suit them and the future he’s suddenly thinking of. He grieves for Akane, for his sun, but the moon controls the tides and Kokonoi is finding himself swept up in the current that Seishu pulls him to. 

Kokonoi hums softly, letting the sound verberate through the air. He could drag him down easily, but Kokonoi likes to take his time. He wants Seishu’s curiosity. He wants to be desired back. He is not lacking in courtships but there have been none that caught his interest until Akane. Until Seishu. “I’ll return. You wait.”

“You want me to wait for you?” 

Kokonoi nods. “I won’t be long this time. Next night.” 

Seishu looks at him before he nods. “Okay, I’ll come back. For Akane.”

“For you,” Kokonoi demands. 

He looks out at the horizon, at the moon that shines and is reflected by the water. “Akane loved coming here, thought is was an escape. Used to joke about not coming back.”

A promise Kokonoi made to her that she left unfulfilled. Promises were binding to beings like the Mer and the witches in the deep. He gives into the urge and licks the skin of the leg in the water. It makes Seishu yelp which causes Kokonoi to laugh. 

“You’re not going to eat me, are you?” he asks, leaning away now carefully. He looks ready to run. 

Koko shoves himself up higher, using his tail and his arms to heave himself for moment onto the wooden platform he sits on. It isn’t easy, but he’s strong. Seishu stares in awe at the dark colours of his tail and the white spines on his fins. Kokonoi flicks it, splashing him. 

The brother glares at him before flicking the water back. He grins at it, and the way Seishu’s eyes take in the differences between them. His gaze continues to linger on his tail and his hair and Kokonoi wants to preen in response.  

Koko leans closer. He needs to go back into the water but he wants to taste more. He wonders if Seishu will let him. He lets out a series of clicks, trilling slightly to lure him closer. It works because the human moves in without thinking and Koko is granted the chance to press his lips against his and nip, tasting blood. It’s sweet, but he thinks he prefers the taste of the man himself when he manages to lick inside his mouth. It stuns Seishu enough that Kokonoi can taste a little more, tongue moving against his gently, before he’s forced to jump into the water to breathe.

Seishu is in shock, staring down at the Mer who lowers himself further into the water. He can’t resist grinning at the moon above him, waiting for the response.

“You…kissed me.”

Kokonoi nods. “A human thing but enjoyable. You’re fragile though. Don’t want to break you.” There’s no revulsion that he can see in the human’s expression and it confirms his desire. It’s not only him. Not completely. 

Seishu touches his own mouth. “Are you allowed to do that?”

Kokonoi shrugs. “Why not?” he sticks out his tongue at the human and watches with pleasure as the human looks at it. “Do you have a clutch waiting for you? Your home?” he elaborates when he sees the confusion on his face.

“What? Oh…no. My parents died with Akane. It’s just me now.”

He grins, teeth flashing in the light. “The next night,” Kokonoi says. “Meet here. I had something for Akane but you…you will take it.”     

“I will?”

“Yes. Then her promise will be held.” 

“She made you a promise?” 

Kokonoi grins. “One made in blood. It will be worth the wait,” he says, more to himself than Seishu. “It’s a…gift,” he says, thinking of the closest proper human word. 

“Okay,” he nods. “Tomorrow night. Not like I have anything else waiting for me.” 

Kokonoi is not supposed to hear the last part but he does. “Next night, my moon.” He leaves before Seishu can question the term, swimming into the deep water. He has adjustments to make. Seishu’s taste is etched into his memory and he needs to add it to the magic that he’s paid for. He needs to adjust the home he’s created for a larger Mer than planned and more fortifications. Seishu, he knows, is going to be beautiful in the water. The moon belongs to the ocean and this one belongs to Kokonoi. He’ll make sure of it. 

everything taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @themagickjuju @sxrvivc

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties

network: @enchantedforest-network

[aldbooks]

ACOTAR Masterlist

AO3 ALDBooks

ACOTAR 🥀

Like After Images - Valkyrie Week prompt 'Blood Rite' *TW*

Several weeks after the Blood Rite, once the excitement of Nesta's mating ceremony and the birth of Nyx subside, the Valkyrie wade through the aftermath of what they faced in the Blood Rite

The Temporary Roommate - T - 3/3 - 13,951words

ACOTAR Secret Santa 2022 gift Mor's meddling family sends her and Emerie away to her estate for two weeks. It's either the best, or the worst thing that ever happened. She hadn't yet decided.

A Strange Melody - M - 12/12 - 19,752

ACOTAR Secret Santa 2023 gift for @sunshinebingo - a Gwynriel Little Mermaid AU

ACOTAR Writing Circle 3

A Friendly Wager - M - 1/1 - 2,205 words

Gwynriel oneshot fluffy fun - Alternate storyline A Fresh Spark

“Because of you I didn’t sleep at all last night” prompt Gwynriel

“I’m guessing you stole them?” Prompt Gwynriel

Azriel and his mother headcanons

Gwynriel/Kanthony headcanon

The necklace - Angsty Gwynriel

Snap me baby one more time - Nessian 2,175 words

Inspired by all the gym bro thirst traps that keep crossing my FYP that remind me of Cassian. Here's a silly little Nessian one shot with a side Gwynriel and Emorie plot (naturally)

Bodyshop - E - 4/4 - 19,441 words

Inspired by the song Unholy by Sam Smith & Kim Petra Mor and Cassian drag Azriel to Rita's the strip club the partially own with their friend Rhysand to see a new troop of dancers. A trio of women who go by the name Valkyrie.

Don’t you wanna be more than friends? - M - 3,839 words

Azriel and Gwyn have been growing steadily closer thanks to their midnight meetings in the training ring but, tonight, something is different... TW: mentions of SA

“Who says I want to reject it?” - Elucien

Drunk confessions - Elucien

Elucien angsty Drabble & Part 2

More angsty Elucien 

The haircut - Lucien cuts his hair and Elain has feelings about it

Gwynriel/Elucien drabble

Should've Stayed Dead - M - 4,437 words

Nessian (sort of) Lucien receives a message requesting a meeting with the Night Court. Specifically, the Archeron sisters. Cassian's POV

Angsty prompts requests:

Elucien [1] [2] [3]��[4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Gwynriel [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Lucien/Feyre [1]

Her tears like diamonds on the floor - 1,610words

Angsty Gwynriel Starfall drabble

Embrace - E - 14/? :

Collection of Smut prompt requests including the following ships:

Amren x Varian

Gwynriel

Helion x LoA

Feysand

Elucien

Viviane x Kallias

Jassa

Nessian

Gwynriel week prompts:

Solstice Night

“You’re the new ribbon Az”

To Win a Prince - Cinderella AU

Elucien story inspired by Persuasion - The Remembrance of Regret

Unchained Melody - angsty/smutty Gwynriel

Rosaline inspired Gwynriel scene

Gwynriel sparring

My Jolly Sailor Bold - Gwynriel mermay

The Final Frontier series - part of Gwynriel Dirty Deeds December 2024

I thought my demons were almost defeated but you took their side and you pulled them to freedom - Gwynriel based on @acourtdelaluna head canon

Moth to Flame - Gwynriel Summer Solstice

Frost and Flame - Pure angst from Lucien's POV, no happy ending

The Flame of Night - Ghost Rider inspired Elucien

A Court of Light and Shadows series - Elucien/Gwynriel

This series consists of an Elucien prequel then a Gwynriel and Elucien story that run tandem to each other - the directions for the tandem read are in the notes of each respective chapter for those interested

A Breaking - M - 1/1 - 2,899 words

After witnessing the almost kiss on Winter Solstice, Lucien makes a decision.

A Court of Shadows - E - 37/37 - 94,718 words

Azriel has begun to notice that his thoughts regarding a certain priestess have begun to shift. Before he can fully set aside his more inappropriate musings, Gwyn makes a proposal he can't resist

A Court of Light - M - 31/31 - 88,258 words

A year after the events of A Breaking, Elain feels a tug on the bond and realizes her estranged mate is in danger. Lucien, now returned to the Night Court, wonders if he might have been too hasty in his decision to leave, and if there might still be a chance for him with his mate

[love-and-monsters]

The Warlord and his Lady pt. 8

M dragonkin X F human, 13,095

This chapter was also longer than I expected, but it’s also the finale, so I guess it should be sort of long. Thank you all for following this story! The grand total ended up being just shy of 92,000 words, if you can believe it. I’m enormously grateful that so many people were willing to stick with me through this massive journey. Hopefully this ending satisfies you- I’m considering doing a final short story with these characters, but it might be a prequel instead of an epilogue- we’ll see. There might be a little pause in posting here, but I do want to get something up for Mermay, even if it’s shorter.

Content warnings: Mentions of poisoning, serious injury, and torture. 

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5) (Ch. 6) (Ch. 7)

The room is silent. Ethan fidgets with the bottle, which is still slightly tilted, like he’s going to tip it into Rastek’s slightly-open mouth. A slow, cold wave of terror rolls through my stomach. My fingers lock around the bottle in my hand. One thought blazes through my mind, at the forefront of everything: protect the antidote.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice calm. I want to give him a chance to explain himself. Even though something deep inside me has already accepted what’s happening.

He swallows. His throat bobs with the movement. “It’s medicine,” he says, his voice low, like he’s trying to calm me down. “One of the healers asked me to give it to him.” His eyes dart to the bottle in my hand. He tenses subtly. “You made the antidote?”

“It’s-” Don’t tell him, my mind snarls immediately. “No. It’ll… it’s like pain medicine. It’ll help him rest. So he can pull through this.”

“Hm.” I can’t tell if he believes me. We’re at a bit of a standstill. I don’t want to approach him to administer the antidote and I can tell he’s not eager to finish poisoning Rastek while I’m standing right there. Because that’s what he’s doing. A simple servant would never be allowed to administer medicine to their warlord. So he’s snuck in. And there’s only one reason someone would sneak in.

“You should go,” I say, chancing my luck. Ethan’s jaw tightens. If he leaves, he’s never getting another chance. He knows I’m going to station guards around Rastek, with myself at the lead. If he leaves now, he can maybe get away- just run into the night and escape. But he’ll lose his chance to kill Rastek, and he knows it.

He hesitates. His gaze flicks over me. I regret not bringing anyone else with me. The calculation runs through his eyes- I’m sick and not very strong. Definitely not as strong as someone who does manual labor for a living. He can stop me and he knows it.

Scream, you idiot! My brain screams at me. I open my mouth, but Ethan lunges before I can move. There’s a pop in the air, almost like electricity, and, despite my lungs working, I can’t hear the scream anymore. I have just enough time to recognize that Ethan has used some kind of magic before his foot slams into my side.

The pain is startling. Even without the silence spell, I couldn’t make a sound- the air is completely knocked out of me. I have just enough wherewithal to curl my body around the antidote before I hit the ground. It presses against my chest, shielded and safe.

I expect Ethan to come after me while I’m stunned, but he only looks at me for a moment to make sure I’m down before turning back to Rastek. Well, I can’t fault his focus. He’s going after his target. But it does give me an opportunity. Fueled by rage and desperation, I scramble across the floor, clutch at his calf, and do the first thing I can think of to stop him: Sink my teeth into the skin of his leg.

The surprise seems to help. Ethan jerks in silent pain and twists, trying to get me off of him. He swings his other leg, trying to kick me in the head, but I’m too close to him for him to get a good angle. Blood pours into my mouth and I gag against it, but I don’t let go. Even when Ethan starts frantically stomping to try and dislodge me, the motion jolting my jaw painfully.

Finally, he reaches down and snatches my hair, hauling me away from his leg. My teeth finally slip and I dislodge, leaving rivulets of blood trailing down his calf and my chin. He hauls me up far enough that I can see his face, twisted in rage and pain. He makes no sound, but I can see his lips twitch into the words ‘fucking bitch.’ I spit blood into his face.

The anger on his face goes insensate. He wrestles me to the ground with his still-bleeding calf planted on my lower back. His hand remains tangled in my hair, yanking me back. The ground looms under me, hard and unforgiving. I can already tell what he’s going to do. He’s going to slam my face against the ground until I’m unconscious. Or worse. I struggle, but he’s solid as stone. He yanks my head back until my back is bending with the force. I scramble to plant my hands on the ground, to push back against it, but I’m too stunned to manage. The only thing I can do is brace myself for the impact.

And then Ethan jerks, his fingers loosening on my hair. Then his hand jerks free. I manage to catch myself before falling on the floor and whip around to look at him.

Ethan is scrambling at his throat. His fingertips scrabble against the smooth, green scales at his neck. The mass of scales is tightening, Ethan’s face turning a nasty shade of purplish-red as it chokes off the blood and air to his brain. It looks like a snake it strangling him. Or like a tail.

I look over. Rastek is rolled over on his side. His teeth are gritted in pain, his breath coming in heaving, pained gasps, but he’s putting all of his strength into strangling Ethan.

Just as Ethan’s heaving starts to become more labored, he pulls something out of his shirt. I get a flash of metal in the light before the tiny knife plunges into Rastek’s tail. A chunk of flesh gets carved away and Rastek gives a silent howl of pain. His tail twists free, involuntarily moving away from the knife.

Ethan doubles over, gasping. He leans against the cot as he struggles to get air in his lungs. Next to him, the bottle of dark liquid rolls a couple of inches along the floor. He’s too distracted to notice.

I seize the bottle, keeping my own antidote tucked close to my body. Ethan barely looks up in time to see me swing the bottle into his face.

The blow is only enough to stun him. The bottle isn’t heavy enough for anything stronger than that. But it’s the opportunity I need. I snag a shard of broken glass and carve a deep gash into one of his arms. The poison is soaked into his shirt and dripping down his hair and I gather as much of it as I can, pressing it into the wound. When he opens his mouth to groan in pain, I snatch a piece of cloth saturated in the poison and jam it in. I want to get as much of it into him as possible.

It’s a massive dose, more than Rastek got by a mile. The effect isn’t immediate, but I can tell he feels it. He gurgles and chokes, eyes rolling. It’s only at this point that I realize that it would have been faster to just slit his throat. But no. There’s a sort of vicious satisfaction I get from watching him succumb to the poison he was going to give my husband. It feels right.

There’s a sensation like my ears popping and the sounds of the busy tent filter back in. Ethan gurgles like a dying slug. Rastek slumps over, clearly exhausted. “Hey!” I yell, my voice slightly wavering and weak. “Hey!”

The curtain whisks open and I hear noises of horror. I don’t move. I don’t take my eyes off of Ethan until a guard is summoned and he’s hauled away. The I turn and present my antidote to the nearest healer.

“Make Rastek drink it. At least half. Then monitor his progress. If there’s no improvement in three hours, give him the rest.” I manage to get all those words out, barely even slurring them with my exhaustion. I can feel the looming wave of tiredness crashing over me. As soon as the healer nods his assent, I sink to the ground.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. The pain, delayed by adrenaline and determination, is reasserting itself now that the danger is over. My entire body feels like someone literally put me through a wringer, or maybe like I was hit by a train. My head aches like it’s being split open. Even breathing is an effort. My body is heavy and inhaling is like shifting a heavy bag of sand. Dimly, I feel healers prodding at me, trying to get me to respond. I try to, but it’s far too much effort. They give up after a few tries and just start pouring concoctions into my mouth. I swallow most of them, mostly just out of reflex, so I don’t choke.

My conscious fades like the slow dimming of light- I can sense it getting weaker and weaker before it’s suddenly just not there anymore. I don’t even dream. My brain just shuts down.

When I wake back up, there’s the heavy sense that I’ve been asleep for a long time. My body is stiff as a rail- even bending my fingers hurts. Forget sitting upright. My neck screams in protest when I so much as turn my head. My mouth feels desert-dry, and my tongue feels swollen, and my attempts to speak, or even just yell for someone, come out as nothing more than raspy little squeaks.

I drift for a while, barely conscious, until a healer steps through the cloth barrier surrounding my cot. She grabs my wrist, fingers positioned to take my pulse, and nearly jumps out of her skin when I twitch.

“My lady?” she asks, eyes training on mine. “Can you hear me?”

It’s hard to nod, but I manage it, as well as making a squeaky-raspy noise in my throat. Her shock remains for a second longer before she slips into healer mode again. “Let’s see if we can get you sitting up.”

Even with a few more pillows shoved under me, we don’t make it to ‘sitting up’ and settle for ‘lying down at an angle.’ The healer seems unperturbed. She takes my vitals, shines a light in my eyes, pulls and massages at my joints until my eyes are watering with pain, and finally pokes some slivers of ice between my lips. The feeling of cold wetness against my tongue hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The ice melts and I swallow the few droplets of water left in my mouth. It’s delicious.

“You’ve been unconscious for a while,” the healer says as she pokes more ice between my lips. I shift it in my mouth to cover all the dry spots. “Several days. Your body’s been through quite a strain.”

I still can’t speak, so I just nod. My gaze travels around the room. It’s not much to look at; just a room enclosed by plain, off-white curtains. Beyond the curtains, I can hear the sounds of the medical tent. Rastek’s not here. My stomach roils with anxiety. I didn’t give him the antidote before I collapsed. Where is he? Is he okay?

With the water, my mouth is cooperating more than before. I can’t speak full sentences of anything, but I manage to squeak out, “Rrr… Rastek?”

The healer smiles and the relief is dizzying. “He’s been up and about for a couple of days. There have been some things that he’s had to take care of himself, though I assure you that we make sure he’s resting enough. Someone has already gone to tell him you’re awake. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

That’s reassuring. I sag back into the pillows and low myself to be fed more ice. I’m not exactly hungry, but I can feel the dizzy, unfocused feeling that comes with not having eaten in a long time. Moving even slightly is an effort. The only thing I can do is lie still and occasionally eat ice chips.

Just as I’m about to fall asleep, there’s the hurried thumping of footsteps and the curtains swing open. Rastek, wearing his armor and his cape, steps into the little room. The instant his eyes fall on me, he drops to a kneeling position next the top of the bed.

“You’re awake,” he says. His voice is soft to the point of reverence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I really did want to be here, but there’s been so much going on.”

I reach up to press my hand to his cheek. His entire body sags into a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re okay,” he murmurs like he’s trying to convince both of us, or maybe like he’s trying to will it into being. “You’re okay. We’re all right.”

His face is slightly rough under my fingertips. I’ve never felt him with stubble before. Maybe draconid hair grows slower or something. That would mean that he hasn’t shaved in a while, then. But that would fit with the rest of his appearance. The longer I look at him, the more haggard he appears. His hair is drawn back, but what I can see of it is less silky and shiny than usual. His eyes are somewhat sunken, his skin is sallow, and his expression is worn. Still, there’s strength in his grip as he clutches my hand to his cheek.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, moving to fluff the pillows, straighten my blankets, any small busywork to make things more comfortable for me. “You’ve been out for quite some time. The healers said your body was just healing itself, but it’s been so long, I…” He trails off and takes a deep, uneven breath. His eyes glitter in the dim light. “I’m glad you’re awake,” he finishes, plastering a wobbly smile on his face.

“Nnn,” I moan. My inability to talk is frustrating. Even holding my hand up to his face is exhausting. He lets my arm drop back to the bed and I refocus my energy on getting my mouth and throat to work. “Mmnn… You… okay?”

It’s an incredible effort to speak and Rastek responds to my earnest question by bursting into laughter. He actually rocks a little back and forth, like the effort of his laughter is shaking him. I put my remaining energy toward glaring at him, which he doesn’t notice for several seconds. Even when he does, he only presses his lips together in an amused manner, which barely suppresses the giggles still slipping out of him.

“You’re really asking me that?” he asks. “You spend nearly a week unconscious, barely awake enough for the healers to shove medicine and food into you, kept alive mostly by magic, and the first thing you do is ask me if I’m okay? Darling. Do you have any sense in your head?”

I narrow my eyes ay him. “Poisoned,” I insist.

“Well, yes,” Rastek says, looking at least a little contrite. “But I’m better now.” He gives me a curious look. “I heard… that is, the healers said that you were the one who made the antidote.” His voice is light, and his eyes flick to the healer who is still with us, but I can hear the subtle question in his tone: How the hell did you do that?

It would take way too much energy to explain in my current state, so I just nod. Rastek looks awed. I can almost see the questions forming in his mind. But he doesn’t say anything else. He just smiles and strokes my forehead. “I knew you would,” he murmurs.

He couldn’t possibly have known I would save him. He must have known how unlikely that was. But the way he says it is so utterly confident. Like he never has a single doubt in his mind. My eyes sting, and I realize they’re trying to tear. I can’t summon up enough moisture to actually get tears out, but everything goes fuzzy at the edges for a bit.

Despite not having been awake for that long, I’m already starting to feel tired. My eyelids keep drifting shut and staying that way for longer and longer. A heavy numbness is crawling up my body from my legs.

“She’s falling asleep,” I hear Rastek say. It sounds like it’s coming down a long tunnel.

“That’s okay. She’ll be in and out for a little while. Perfectly normal,” the healer says. “Her body’s already using a lot of energy trying to heal itself.”

“Ah,” Rastek says. His voice comes closer, soft and gentle. “Then sleep well, darling. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

There’s a long period of dreamless blackness. I’m only pulled out of it on occasion by poking and prodding by healers. Even then, I don’t really come out of sleep. I just grumble until they let me lie back down and go back to sleep.

My consciousness eventually comes back to me naturally. It’s quite dim in the tent, with my curtained section only being illuminated by a small lantern. The sound is hushed too, aside from the occasional moan of pain or someone hurrying around. It must be night, or at least late in the evening.

This is the first time I register how gross I feel. Not just in a physically unwell sense, but also in a hygiene sense. I feel grimy. Sweat is plastered to my clothes, my hair feels tangled and greasy, and my mouth tastes terrible. Maybe it’s not that surprising- I don’t know how easy it is to bathe someone while they’re unconscious. But it’s not pleasant on top of the present soreness.

Something shifts at the edge of my vision and I turn my head. Rastek is curled in a wooden chair, reading some small book. He looks uncomfortably hunched, his tail curled up close to his legs. His head droops every now and then, chin tilting toward his chest. Just as his body starts to go limp, he slips sideways on the chair and startles back awake.

Just as I’m watching him go through that pattern for the third time, he turns his head a little and catches sight of my face. He straightens up, utter relief flooding his features. “Hi there.”

I shift, tentatively stretching my limbs. It hurts, but it also feels kind of good and relieving, like a massage. “Hi.”

Rastek puts the book down and scoots the chair closer to me. He still looks wan and a bit sickly, but healthier than he looked before. He strokes the back of his hand against my cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Mostly stiff. Tired. Sore,” I say. Rastek nods.

“Not too much pain?” he asks.

“It’s not fun, but I can manage.”

Rastek sighs. “They’ve been giving you medicine for the pain every few hours. That’s probably why it’s not so bad.” His face screws up. “They said your muscles tore when you scuffled with Ethan. Add that on top of your tiredness from working so hard to make the antidote and you’re taking a long time to recover.”

“Have I been sleeping a long time?”

“Since you last woke up? About… sixteen hours, give or take. Not too terribly long.” Rastek’s thumb traces over my cheekbone. I take a deep breath and ask what’s been nudging at the back of my mind.

“Ethan. What… what happened to him?”

Darkness falls over Rastek’s face immediately. Tension tightens his jaw- I can see a muscle twitching. “We detained him. He’s alive.” The way he says ‘alive’ sounds like a curse. It sounds like, if Rastek had his way, Ethan would not currently be living.

“He’s detained?” I ask, poking for more information. Rastek doesn’t say anything for a few moments. His jaw twitches again.

“Kept under heavy guard in the camp. The thaumatist has been able to keep him unconscious, except for when we’re interrogating him. He’s been a little helpful, though not as much as I would like. He’s good at being tight-lipped, unfortunately.”

“What has he said?” I ask.

Rastek shrugs. “Nothing we couldn’t have guessed on our own, though I suppose the confirmation is useful. He’s a spy for the opposing forces, he joined as a servant to get close to me, deliberately came with us when we left the manor to go into hiding, and he then hid in plain sight and filtered information back to the enemy.” Rastek lowers his voice to a near-whisper. I have to strain to hear it. “It seems fortuitous that we didn’t tell people you lost your memory. Apparently he was under the impression that the magic had fully failed, instead of partially, which was why they didn’t attack again- they were trying to figure out what went wrong and fix it. By the time they were ready for a second go, we were on the move again.”

“But we don’t know anything else?” I ask.

“No. He’s fine with telling us specifics about himself and what he was doing on the mission. But he’s stingier with the other details. We don’t know specifically who was employing him, or why they went after you in particular.” He rubs a hand over his face. “We don’t even know what happened with the person we chased down and the poisoning. I assume they were there as backup, but we don’t know the specifics…” Rastek trails off. One of his hands curls against his side, right where the poisoned knife struck him.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I ask in a small voice. Rastek follows my gaze to his hand and his expression shifts to a soothing smile.

“Yes. It’s tender, but it’s not too bad. You don’t need to worry about me.” He pats my head with a heavy hand. “But regardless of the information we get out of him, we are both safe. I’m pleased with that, if nothing else.”

I rest my hand on his, quiet for a few moments. Then I ask, “Rastek. Can I see him?”

I feel the surprise that rolls through his body. He straightens up, eyes wide. His hand doesn’t pull out of my grip, but it does tug. “You want to?”

“Maybe I’ll be able to get something out that you won’t,” I say. Rastek presses his lips together. I can already see the suspicion on his face, the hesitation. “What’s he going to do to me, anyway? You’ve got him secured, right?”

“Well, yes,” Rastek says. “But I don’t like tempting fate. And we don’t know how long we’re going to keep him here- eventually we’re going to have to move him either for holding in a proper prison or for execution.”

“Execution,” I repeat musingly. “That’s still on the table.”

“It’s a possibility,” Rastek says. “You seem surprised by that.”

“Only because I figured if he was going to be executed, you’d be doing it. And he wouldn’t need to go anywhere for it.” I can’t imagine Rastek being okay with sending Ethan away for a hanging or something. I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t already ripped Ethan apart.

Rastek looks both amused and pleased. “Hm. Not for lack of desire, I assure you. But spies are generally best left alive to extract as much information as possible, so he’ll probably be sent elsewhere for holding and a secondary interrogation before people actually get around to deciding if he deserves life imprisonment or, well. Life imprisonment for a much shorter period.”

“I’d still like to talk to him before he goes,” I say. “I at least want to see his face.”

Rastek’s mouth lifts in a particularly cruel smile. “Actually, I think that’s a good idea. You should see your own handiwork, I think.” He brushes his fingers affectionately over my cheek. “But only after you recover some more, all right?”

“I think that’s a fine condition,” I say right before my jaw gapes around an irrepressible yawn. “God, I’m so tired.” The dull ache all over my body is starting to get worse, and all my mind wants to do is retreat into the comforting numbness of sleep.

“You’ve been through a lot. And the medicine in you is probably making you more sleepy,” Rastek says. His thumb traces little circles on my cheekbone. I reach up and fumblingly thread my fingers through his. He practically purrs with affection, gaze going soft. “Get some more rest. We can talk again when you wake up.”

I mumble something, though it’s barely articulate. It takes another couple of moments to summon up the energy to speak, but I do it anyway. Even when it drags me further out of the gentle cocoon of sleep, I think it’s work it.

“Stay with me?” I murmur. Rastek’s expression brightens and he shuffles even closer to me. His tail comes up around the end of the bed, like he’s trying to curl his entire body around me.

“Of course. Of course. Always,” he says. I murmur in agreement and promptly fall asleep.

I wake and fall back asleep several times over the next three days. Not much of interest happens- I eat, take various medicines, talk with Rastek. One of the healers forces me out of bed while Rastek hovers nervously nearby.

“She’ll need to walk sooner or later,” the healer says. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh as Rastek wrings his hands. Not literally, but I’m expecting it any minute.

“I’m okay,” I say through gritted teeth. Walking hurts, like I’m tottering around after running a marathon rather than spending a few days in bed. The healer reaches down to touch my legs and I startle uncomfortably  when she examines my thigh. Rastek glares.

“Your legs are stiff,” she tells me, ignoring Rastek. Her ability to do so is admirable, considering his glare looks like he could melt through glass. “We’re going to do a lap around the bed, then I’m going to suggest some stretches and massages that will help loosen the muscles.”

She guides me around the bed, though she doesn’t offer much support. I’m allowed to lean on her, but she’s not going out of her way to hold me up. Rastek’s tail whips back and forth like an irritated cat’s, occasionally striking a chair with a dull thunk.

We actually manage a lap and a half before I have to collapse back into bed. “Good work,” the healer says. “Now for the stretches.”

She demonstrates a few for me. They’re all things I can do while sitting in bed, and while they’re uncomfortable, they’re not unpleasant. “As for you, Rastek, I’d like you to watch closely so you can mimic these motions. I’ll demonstrate them, then you can repeat them with me watching.”

As she says that, she starts to hike up the skirt of my hospital gown-esque dress. I freeze, uncomfortable. “It’s all right,” the healer says. “I’m just going to demonstrate for your husband, then I’ll allow him to do it. Hold on for just a few moments.”

Rastek makes eye contact with me over the healer’s head. I can see the question in his eyes- is this okay? I lower my chin in a tiny little nod.

The healer demonstrates some motions, drawing her thumbs along the sides of my thighs and around my joints. It’s uncomfortable when she gets close to my hips, but Rastek squeezes my hand, which helps me relax. Finally, the healer stands up and gestures for Rastek to take her place.

He settles where she once sat on the bed, hands hovering. “Just mimic what I did,” the healer reminds him. “As long as you’re fairly gentle, you won’t hurt her.”

Given his expression, he seems more worried about making me uncomfortable than accidentally hurting me. But he obligingly puts his hands on my legs and starts exerting some soft pressure.

His hands certainly feel different than the healer’s. They’re warmer, for one. Doctors, regardless of the universe, must be legally required to have cold hands. Rastek’s hands are slightly warm. They’re larger than the healer’s too. He probes gently at first, like he’s afraid of hurting me, but when I don’t respond, he digs in a little deeper. I groan in response and he freezes. “No, no,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “Keep going. It’s nice.”

He obliges, changing position or pressure when asked by the healer. He’s quite a bit more delicate than her, though. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s so much more aware of his strength or if he’s just worried about touching me so closely. Every time I show even the smallest amount of discomfort, Rastek pulls his hands away.

“You do actually need to get in there,” the healer says, looking faintly amused. “She won’t break.”

Rastek grimaces, but he pushes his thumbs in a little harder. The healer watches him for a few more moments, then nods her head and stands up. “All right. It seems you have the hang of it. I’ll leave you alone for now.” And she swishes out of the little room.

Rastek stares after her for a moment, then swings his gaze back toward me. His hands lift, hesitant and uncertain. “Are you comfortable with this?”

“It’s fine,” I say. “It feels kind of nice.” Rastek presses his thumb down on a knot and I let out an involuntary groan. My face feels immediately hot. “Uh. I. Did not mean to make that sound.��

“Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re comfortable.” Rastek pauses. “We used to do this on occasion, when your muscles got very stiff. Though I was always a bit anxious about accidentally hurting you.” He moves his fingers in small circles. I take a moment to steady my breathing. It keeps catching in my chest for some reason.

I close my eyes, but that makes the sensation of his hands on my legs even more intense. Tingles keep running up the length of my spine. I shiver, unable to repress it, and Rastek pauses.

“Are you cold?” he asks. I shake my head.

“It’s not really that. It’s just…” I trail off, making a noncommittal gesture with my hand. Rastek apparently catches on and his hands slide away from me.

“I think we’ve done enough, for now,” he says gently.

“I didn’t mean you had to stop,” I say, carefully pushing myself up on my elbows. Rastek waves his hand at me until I flop back into a lying-down position.

“We don’t want to overdo it,” he says. His tail twists behind him, waving and curling in slow undulations. “And it is a bit… touchy.”

“Which I said I didn’t mind,” I point out. Rastek stares at the bedsheets. “I can tell you if I’m uncomfortable, you know. I don’t need you to walk on eggshells around me.”

Rastek huffs out a heavy breath. “I don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not pushing me. I’m telling you you’re not pushing me. If anything, I’m pushing you.” I pause. “Which I probably be shouldn’t doing either. Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

Rastek laughs. “No, no. You’re not.” He gives me a fond look. “There is very little you could do to me that I would not enjoy.”

My entire body flushes at that, and Rastek looks highly amused. “Good to know,” I say. “Can you come over here?” He obligingly moves closer, kneeling down when I gesture for him to do so.

He gives me an odd look when I bring my hand up to touch his face. Even so, he still leans into the touch. His eyes go half-lidded and sleepy with affection. I keep my fingertips resting on his cheek, waiting until he relaxes completely and I can move his head around with no resistance. Then, slowly and deliberately, I draw his face in and press a kiss to his lips.

A startled exhale puffs against my face, but he doesn’t move other than that. My eyes are still half-open, enough to see that his own eyes have shot open in shock. And then, slowly, they drift closed. He leans into the kiss, pushing further when I tilt my head in a way he likes. His mouth opens against mine, just slightly, enough for me to feel that his teeth are slightly sharper than I was expecting.

The kiss doesn’t stop so much as it trails off, slowing until our mouths are just barely touching. I wish it could last longer, but the position I have to lean into is hurting my back. Rastek helps me back into the bed as I stop the kiss. He strokes a hand along my hairline with incredible delicateness.

“I don’t remember everything,” I say. “But I remember a lot. I don’t know if I’ll ever remember anything completely, and a lot of it is just sort of vague feelings, senses of things. But I think, even if I didn’t remember anything, I would still love you. I love you. So much.”

Rastek doesn’t say anything for a moment. His hand keeps moving along my hairline, a soft, tickling sensation. My eyes drift partially closed. “I love you too,” he murmurs. “I would still love you, even if you didn’t remember anything.” My eyes fall fully shut and I only just catch the last couple of words he speaks. “But I’m glad you do.”

After that, Rastek barely ever seems to leave my side. I know he’s stepping away at some points, because his clothes change and he looks reasonably clean. But he’s nearly always there. Even the few times where he has to step away to take care of other business, he always returns quickly. Several times, I catch him giving me fond looks, a sort of misty look in his eyes.

Rastek sweeps in one morning, cloak trailing behind him and a serious look on his face. I’m immediately alert. It’s unusual for him to be absent when I wake up, but he’s been gone for the whole morning.

“Everything all right?” I ask, taking in his stern expression. He sits down next to me, huffing out a sigh.

“You said you wanted to talk with Ethan,” he says, not looking into my face. I nod. “He’s being transported out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I repeat. “Wh- what happened? I thought you would tell me sooner if he was going to be moved.”

“I was trying to get it stalled for longer,” Rastek says. “But I can’t delay it anymore. He’s going to be moved out tomorrow.” He licks his lips, his gaze shifting to a point on the ground. “Do you still want to see him?”

“Yes,” I say instantly. “Is there still time?”

“There is,” Rastek says, slowly lifting his head. “If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I am,” I say. “Hold on, I just need to-” I scramble to get out of bed. Rastek catches my shoulder as I tip a little to one side.

“Take it easy. Don’t rush. You’re sure you’re feeling well enough to do this?” He scans my face intently, looking for any sign of weakness or fatigue. I draw myself up, setting my jaw.

“I’m okay. I want to speak to him.” Rastek brings his hand up to cradle the side of my head for a moment. He gazes into my face, eyes warm and searching. He dips his chin in a small nod.

“All right. Then we’ll go.” He holds my hand as I get up. My legs are still unsteady, but with Rastek’s help, I can walk with little issue. His tail keeps curling close to me, which can sometimes make me a little unsteady, but I don’t point it out. His anxiety is a palpable presence in the air, and if he feels better by having his tail close to me, then I’m not going to push against that.

It’s the first time I’ve actually been out of the med tent in a while, and the sun on my skin is astoundingly pleasant. I pause for a moment to take it in. Rastek stops as well, tilting his head back so the sun falls on his face. He lets out a low sigh.

“It’s nice out,” I say. Rastek nods.

“It is.” He squeezes my hand. “We’re keeping Ethan over this way.”

Rastek guides me across the land, weaving through other soldiers and workers bustling around the camp. Sometimes the dip their heads respectfully in our direction, but most just stare at us like they’re trying not to get noticed. I wonder exactly how much they know about what happened. Most of them seem to be looking at us with some sort of naked curiosity, so I assume they don’t know much. Rastek swings his gaze around in a brutal glower and most of the starers scatter.

The tent they’re keeping Ethan in is not terribly close to the edge or the center of camp, and it’s demarcated by enormous orange flags flapping above it and the guards stationed outside it. The entire tent seems to flicker, like there’s a heat shimmer around it, and the air tingles my skin and head. I recognize the sensation. The tent must be enchanted, somehow.

One of the guards steps forward as we approach. “Sir,” she says. “Are you here to interrogate the prisoner?”

“Not exactly,” Rastek says. “My wife wants to speak to him.” For the first time, I feel a warm glow in my chest from being referred to as his wife. Even his voice seems to curl around the word with fondness.

The guard looks at me for a moment. I can’t make out most of her face, but her eyes look doubtful. But she doesn’t protest, instead bending forward in a half bow. “Yes, sir.” The other guards step away, leaving us a clear path through the tent flap.

As I step through the entranceway of the tent, my ears buzz like they’ve been filled with static, then pop. I wince and shift my jaw, feeling that discomfort that you get when you’ve ascended in an airplane. It takes me a moment to realize what else changed since I stepped inside- it’s almost dead silent. There are a few tiny sounds, like breathing and the clinking of chains, but the noise from outside the tent is silent.

That must be the magic I felt, or at least part of it. Makes sense. If they’ve been trying to get information out of him, they probably didn’t want anyone outside to be able to hear it. Or if Ethan screamed for help.

Speaking of Ethan, he is seated on the floor of the tent in front of us. Maybe ‘seated’ is the wrong word, though. He’s more kneeling on the ground, forced into the position by the chains on his wrists and feet. There’s barely any slack to the chains at all- I can’t imagine he can move more than a few inches. He’s wearing a thin, grimy robe, his hair is wildly unkempt, and his face is swollen. It looks like someone gave him a particularly bad black eye. I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t look worse. Then I realize that most of the brownish stains on his robe are dried blood and his nose is more off-center than it was the last time I saw him and a patch of his hair has completely fallen out, leaving a bald patch in its place.

He tried to kill you and your husband, I remind myself. If anything, he deserves it.

Ethan doesn’t say anything as I watch him. “Hello,” I try. He stares at me.

“He’s not said anything,” another voice says. I glance over. There’s a middle aged woman a few feet away. She’s wearing more armor, and even though I think she’s talking to us, she doesn’t turn her face away from Ethan. “I’m not sure if there’s anything else we can get out of him.” She turns her head a fraction to include me in her glare. The doubt is palpable.

“Regardless,” Rastek says. “I think she deserves an opportunity to talk to him.” The guard shrugs.

“I certainly won’t refuse her that. Just don’t expect to get any information out of it.” The guard gestures toward a table. “We’ve got all sorts of tools over there. Take your pick.”

I glance where she indicated. There are an awful lot of knives, and several other implements that look like they could be used for some very creative torture. The one that catches my eye most looks like a combination of a dentist’s drill and a trepanning tool I saw in a book about old medicine. My brain immediately starts trying to come up with ways that thing could be used on the human body and I have to deliberately get it back on track.

“That’s not quite what we’re here for,” Rastek says.

“Yes, I wasn’t planning on torture,” I agree. “I was just going to ask him a few questions.”

The woman shrugs. “You can ask, if you’d like. But he’s barely been answering with encouragement. I don’t know how much you’ll get out of him without it.”

I brush her off. “Regardless. I’d like to try.” Ethan lifts his gaze halfway toward mine before dropping it away again. It’s the most he’s moved since I’ve entered the tent. “And I’d like to do it alone.”

The woman glances at Rastek, looking for his confirmation. He gives a nod and she steps out of the tent. Rastek, on the other hand, doesn’t move.

“I meant alone,” I repeat, looking at him. He blinks and blanches.

“That,” he grinds out, “would not be a very good idea.” Ethan actually lifts his head this time, watching us with mild interest.

“I still want to do it. He’s chained up. What is he going to do?”

“We can’t hear you from outside the tent. You’re still recovering. If something happens- if anything, even something minor, happens- We might not be able to help you.”

“I know it’s a risk. But I want to talk to him on my own. He might be more open,” I say. “You agreed that I would be allowed to talk to him.”

“Yes, assuming that I or someone else would be allowed to stay with you! We’ve taken every precaution, but that doesn’t mean something can’t go wrong.” Rastek gives me an almost pleading look. “I will not allow anything to happen to you ever again.”

He looks nearly desperate. I worry my lower lip. In fairness, he’s right. I can’t fight Ethan off on my own, and even a momentary advantage for him could be a problem if no one can hear me scream. “Okay,” I say after a moment. “Then a compromise. Stand just outside the tent, outside of the sound, but keep the entrance to the tent open so you can watch. If anything happens, you’ll be able to see and stop him.”

Rastek processes that for a moment. I can see him rolling over the ways it could go wrong in his head. “Why is it so important to speak to him alone?” he finally asks. “It would be safer if I stayed.”

“I know,” I say. “But it feels like something I have to do. I want the closure. And for that, I need to talk to him alone. Maybe he’ll give me some answers he wouldn’t give others.”

Rastek presses his lips together. “He may not,” he continues stubbornly.

“But it’s better to try,” I plead. “I beat him already once in way worse circumstances. I can do it again.”

Rastek huffs out a breath. He lifts his hand to brush a thumb along my cheek. “I don’t mean to doubt you. I’m just worried.” He leans in to press a quick kiss to my forehead. “Okay. I’ll be waiting just outside. And…” He glances around me at Ethan and narrows his eyes. “Be careful. Don’t get too close to him.”

“I won’t,” I say. Rastek looks at me for a moment longer, then heads toward the tent entrance. He doesn’t walk backward, but he doesn’t turn around fully either, turning his head so he can keep an eye on us. He pauses at the entrance of the tent, not walking across the barrier for a moment longer. His chest heaves up in a massive, worried sigh. Then he crosses the threshold and he’s beyond the sound bubble of the tent.

It’s not that much quieter with him gone- just one less person breathing. But the atmosphere in the tent is different. I steel myself, steady my heartbeat, and turn to look fully at Ethan.

He’s still slumped on the floor, but his head is lifted so his gaze is on me. There’s not a lot I can read in his expression. Mostly, he looks exhausted. I take a couple hesitant steps closer to him, stopping so I’m out of his reach- or at least what his reach would be if his arms weren’t chained. They look pretty secure, but I’m not going to take any chances.

“Hello,” I say. He doesn’t reply. He just lowers his head so his chin is touching his chest again. “I wanted to talk to you.”

No response. I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed he’d be raring to speak right away. I deliberately gentle my voice. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you were doing.”

Ethan refuses to move. He keeps staring down, his chest slowly rising and falling. I can’t get a good look at his expression, but I think there’s a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Why were you trying to poison Rastek?” I ask. “Why were you even pretending to be a servant anyway?”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Ethan snaps and looks immediately regretful. He presses his lips together and tucks his chin more firmly against his chest.

“You weren’t pretending,” I repeat thoughtfully. “Then you were a servant before you were recruited to kill Rastek?” He doesn’t say anything. “How long ago did you get recruited?” He keeps his head down and his mouth closed. “Was it before the attack on me?”

That makes him twitch a little. “Is that a yes?” I ask. No answer. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence you were around both when someone tried to kill me and when someone tried to kill Rastek. You’re involved.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Ethan says. His voice is raspy and brittle. “What’s the point?”

“They might let you off with less punishment if you’re willing to share information,” I say. I have no idea if that’s true. I suppose I could try to put in a good word with Rastek, but I don’t know how much influence he has. Nor can I really say that Rastek would actually do anything to help, even if I asked him.

“I’m going to either stay in the dungeon for the rest of my life, or I’m going to be executed,” Ethan says. He tilts his head, glaring up at me from under his disheveled bangs. “Not a thing I’ll tell you will change that.” He tips his chin toward Rastek, who’s still standing in the tent entranceway, partially wreathed in shadow. “He’ll make sure of that.” Ethan parts his lips in a vicious smile. “If anything, he’ll make me stay in the dungeon for as long as I live. Cowering in the worst, most rat-infested parts of it, cold and miserable and not allowed to die until he’s convinced I’ve suffered enough.”

I breathe in slow and let it out slower. “If you don’t give them information, they’ll take you away and torture you until you give them something.”

“It’ll never work.”

“I know that. You know that. But it’s still gonna hurt. You’re still going to be trapped in that dungeon.” I lean a little closer, still keeping myself out of his arm’s reach. “If you give me something, they won’t have reason to keep you. At the very least, they’ll execute you quickly.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything. I think he’s considering it, but it’s hard to tell. “If nothing else,” I say, “I think I deserve to know why you did this to me. Why you did this to us. I want to know.”

He stays silent. It stretches on and on. Maybe it’s only for a few minutes, but it feels like a long time when you’re just waiting. I glance over my shoulder at Rastek. How much longer is he going to let me stay in here? Ethan could end up just waiting me out.

Abruptly, Ethan coughs out a laugh. He shifts awkwardly in place, grimacing and huffing like he’s in pain. “You deserve to know, huh?” he asks. “A murderer deserves to know why people are trying to kill her?”

Irritation flashes through me. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

“No? Well, maybe you didn’t hold the knife. But it was your poison, your inventions, that killed people.” Ethan tugs against his chains. “You and your husband wiped out half a squadron in one battle. Paralyzed the soldiers and slaughtered them. Everyone knows about the warlord and his delicate wife who dreams of poisons and death.” He makes a noise surprisingly similar to a snarl. “The poisoner and her devoted husband. The one who hides in the shadows and the one who slaughters in the daylight.”

I would assume those nicknames are supposed to be me and Rastek, though it’s hard to connect them. How am I supposed to connect the vicious image he’s drawing with the man who fusses over me when I don’t feel well and looks like a kicked puppy when he’s sad? And the way he’s talking about me… well. I can’t make it fit at all.

“It’s war,” I say finally. “People die. I don’t imagine your side’s any better.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything for a moment. “No. Probably not.” He stares at the ground. “But my mother was one of the people who died from your poison. So I wasn’t upset when I was offered a chance to avenge her.”

I lick my lips. “I’m- I am sorry.”

He snorts. “Don’t bother. I know you’re not.”

“Is that why you were trying to kill me? Because you blame me for her death?”

“That’s why I volunteered for it. But the higher-ups commissioned it because they wanted you gone. Well. They wanted him gone.” Ethan tilts his chin toward the front of the tent, indicating Rastek. “And they knew the devoted husband would flee back to his wife the second she was hurt.”

“You tried to kill me to get to him,” I say, nodding.

“No. We tried to hurt you. If we could get you to die slowly, then he would be off the battlefield longer. He would tend to you.” Ethan spits the words. “And we could make gains- maybe even get him to stop being a warlord overall. It didn’t work.”

“It didn’t,” I agree thoughtfully. “But you got what you wanted anyway, because Rastek did leave to take care of me, even if it didn’t actually work the way you wanted it to.” I click my fingers, more pieces clicking into place in my mind. “And that’s why you were there. To monitor if he was going to head back. That’s why you didn’t do anything to me- you wanted more time to see if your plan was going to work at all.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything else. I think he’s already kicking himself for giving too much away. It doesn’t matter. I’m already off on my own tangent. “But then Rastek came back anyway, so you needed to act again. The person we found earlier was a spy. They were trying to see where the weak points were so you could try again, maybe get another shot off on me. But you got Rastek instead and decided to swap targets, since he was weaker and you could make sure to finish him off, but you got caught at the last moment.”

I stop. It’s extremely unsettling to think about how close both of us came to death. Random chance saved our lives both times- the spell screwing up for me and me arriving at just the right moment for Rastek. I look back toward the entrance to the tent. Rastek’s still standing there, waiting. The relief that he’s alive hits me all over like a massive wave. Before I can think about it, I’m striding toward him.

He looks down at me as I approach. “Is everything-” He’s cut off with a little grunt as I throw myself at him, squeezing him as tight as I can manage. He rests a hand on my back, rubbing in little circles.

Behind me is silent- back outside the silence bubble, I can’t hear anything Ethan says, if he’s even speaking. I don’t look back to check. I bury my face in Rastek’s chest. I can hear his breathing and the slow thump of his heart. That’s all I want to hear. It reminds me that he’s alive. That we’re both alive.

“What’s the matter?” Rastek asks, drawing his hand along the back of my head.

“Nothing,” I say. “I just- I’m glad we’re both alive.”

Rastek smiles. I can hear it in his voice when he speaks. “I am, too.”

I lift my head so I can look at him. “I’m done here. Let’s just… let’s go home.”

Rastek smiles wider and his chest shifts in a heavy, but contented sigh. “In good time, my darling. We will.”

We end up back in our tent in the center of camp. I explain what I deduced to Rastek, who nods along, brows pinched in thought. “I suppose that makes sense. A plan to get both of us out of the way.” He shakes his head. “I would have imagined it would be easier to slit our throats, but I suppose some people like complicated plans…”

“The way I was looking at it, it was more about delaying things than actually killing us. It’s hard to kill you in battle because you’re usually well-protected, and with the poison, I guess they figured you were sort of invulnerable. But if they attacked me, they knew you would leave, and by making me sick instead of killing me, they made it so you would be more occupied with taking care of me then getting revenge. And then you were off the battlefield anyway, which would delay the army, make it harder to coordinate, and you were distracted which would make it hard to command effectively. It’s a functional plan. Though probably too complicated.”

Rastek grimaces. “We’re going to need to set up better magic defenses at home. Clearly the moderate defenses we have weren’t enough.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” I yawn, leaning over so I’m resting against him. He automatically puts an arm around me. His chest is ridiculously comfortable. “But for right now, I’m going to nap.”

He gives a warm laugh that makes his chest shift under my head. I snuggle more insistently against him. “I think that’s a good idea. For both of us.” Rastek allows himself to lean back, arms securing me against him.

“Do you not have work to do?” I ask, though I’m already closing my eyes.

“Later,” Rastek says. “Right now… sleep.”

We only get to sleep for a little while before an irritated healer all but drags me back to the healing tent. Fortunately, Rastek has some pity on me and brings some books for me to read, or for him to read out loud to me. He’s got a nice voice for stories- deep and soothing.

Toward the evening, Rastek vanishes for a bit. When he returns, he’s smiling and wearing a lighter set of clothes, completely stripped of his armor.

“Everything okay?” I ask as he sits down next to me.

“Mm,” he says. He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “I spoke to the healers. They said you’ll be okay to go home within a couple of days.”

“Oh,” I say, a bit surprised. “We can go home?”

“Now that Ethan has been captured, we can refine the protections on the manor based on the info we got. It’s not perfect, but the immediate danger seems to have passed now.” Rastek makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “And I, for one, and looking forward to sleeping in my own bed once more.”

“A good bed would be nice,” I agree. The cot’s not terrible, all things considered, but it’s definitely more ‘camping trip comfortable’ than ‘actually comfortable.’ “And good food.”

“I was thinking you would appreciate a more pleasant meal,” Rastek says.

Something in the way he says it makes my stomach knot up. “Wait. You’re coming with me too, aren’t you? You’re not staying, right?”

Rastek lifts a hand to his mouth and his shoulders shake. In my worry, it takes me a moment to realize that he’s laughing at me. “Hey!” I protest.

“I’m very flattered that you’re so worried I’m not going to be with you,” he says, not entirely hiding his smile behind his hand. “Are you really that upset that I might leave you?”

“I like spending time with you and I’m not going to hide it,” I say stubbornly. “Unless you’d like me to start pretending I don’t like you.”

“No, no! Please don’t.” Rastek takes my hand in his and cradles it to his cheek. “Please, my darling. Don’t.” His seriousness is undercut by the twitching of his mouth.

“Since you asked so nicely,” I say in the most aloof tone I can manage. Rastek shivers with laughter, pushing in so close that he’s practically climbing into the bed next to me. A rush of warm familiarity rolls through me. Faded, but recognizable memories pool in my mind. It’s a relief. I’m so caught up in the moment that I forget I asked him something.

“Are you coming home?” I ask. Rastek hums gently.

“Yes. Apparently nearly getting poisoned to death gets you some guaranteed time off.” He sighs. “Which I could not be more grateful for. I don’t want to leave your side right now.”

“I’m not that fragile,” I say.

“Maybe not. But we’ve been through so much recently that I get a little anxious when I take my eyes off you now.”

I don’t protest. Mostly because I feel more or less the same way. In lieu of saying anything else, I lean into his touch. He lets out a contented breath, his eyes drifting half-closed. We rest together, soaking in the peace of being in each other’s presence with no immediate danger or worry to disturb us.

No one disturbs us for the rest of the day. Rastek ends up practically crawling into my cot with me to sleep, and I drift peacefully through the night, comforted by his presence.

The next morning, I’m woken by Rastek carefully climbing out of bed. He makes a hushing noise when I stir and grab at his clothes. “It’s all right. Sleep. There are just a few things I need to take care of.”

I protest wordlessly, clinging onto his clothes even as he tries to gently pry my fingers off. “Give me a minute, I’ll come too.”

“You don’t need to,” Rastek says, but it’s barely a protest. He waits for me while I shake off sleep and get out of bed.

We leave the tent together and Rastek leads me back to our little tent. “There’s some breakfast here,” he says, gesturing to the table. I pick up a biscuit and start chewing on it. By most standards, it would be sort of tough and bland. After days of getting little other than broth, water, and medicine, it tastes delicious. I make a noise of delight as I shove it in my mouth.

“Oh dear,” Rastek says in a light tone as I grab for another one. “Don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying that?” When I nod, he puts on a mock-worried expression. “That is troubling. You must not be able to remember what proper food tastes like. We need to get you back to civilization immediately.”

I snicker as he grabs a handful of dried fruit pieces. “You’re eating it, too.”

“Ah, but I’m not enjoying it,” Rastek says. “That’s the difference.” He sits down heavily in a chair, and his expression tenses for a moment. His exhale is strained, almost like a groan, and his tail twists, curling close to his body with tension.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Rastek gives a tight smile.

“Just a bit of pain,” he says. “The wound I got still twinges from time to time, though I’ve been assured it is healing nicely.”

“Can I see it?” I ask. Rastek tugs up the side of his shirt and I crouch next to him.

There’s a clean, white wrap of bandages around his torso, tied in place. I reach up, slowly enough to allow him to stop me if he wishes, and untie it. My fingers trace his chest and sides with a touch as light as a ghost as I unwrap the bandages. His breathing hitches slightly, even though I’m trying to be gentle.

Under the bandages is the red slash of his wound. It’s not as severe as I remember it- not as deep or inflamed. Still, the cut is bright red and, while mostly scabbed over, there’s still some raw-looking patches. I tough it as lightly as I can and Rastek huffs out a startled breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter. “I’ll try not to touch too much.”

“It doesn’t hurt so badly,” Rastek says. “I just wasn’t expecting you to touch.” I gingerly probe his side. This time, he doesn’t flinch, though he makes a small noise of discomfort in the back of his throat.

“There’s no signs of infection or anything?” I ask. The wound still looks awfully red, but I’m not sure how to determine if that’s a dangerous redness or just normal. Rastek doesn’t feel or look feverish, which is a good sign, but the wound is a little warm to the touch.

“The last time the physician looked at it, he said it was healing nicely.” Rastek grimaces. “But he also told me to clean it out regularly, and I have been… perhaps a little negligent in that aspect.”

I lift my gaze from his injury to glare at him. “What?”

He actually looks sheepish, though I’m certain my gaze can’t have that much heat. “I’ve been busy and it’s not a comfortable process to clean it out…” He catches my eye again and hurriedly looks away. “I’ve been keeping clean bandages on it, so it’s not as if it’s unclean!”

“How come you’re allowed to complain about how I take care about myself, but then I find out that you’re treating yourself like garbage and suddenly you’re all defensive?” I ask. Rastek sputters a little, pink splotches darkening on his cheeks. “We’re going to clean it out now, okay?”

He huffs, but there’s no real exasperation in it. “There should be a water basin somewhere around here. Wet a cloth and you can use that.”

Sure enough, after a few seconds of searching, I locate a bucket of water. I drag it over, huffing with exertion. Rastek attempts to get up and assist, but I all but shove him back down. He allows me to handle him with minimal protests.

“Is the water clean?” I ask, peering at it in suspicion. It looks clear, but I don’t know how long it’s been sitting here. Rastek grunts and leans over, putting his hand into the water. I’m about to protest that he’s just contaminating it more when there’s a faint glimmer of light around his fingers.

“It’s clean now,” he says. “Simple purification spell.”

“You can just clean water like that?” I ask. “How come you can’t just clean a wound like that?”

“It’s a water purification spell- if you tried it on a person, you would purify their blood back to water and that would be bad,” Rastek says. “Not that I’m strong enough to do that- a bucket of this size is already a bit of a strain on my abilities.”

I soak the cloth and wring out the excess. “This might hurt,” I say, hovering it over the wound. Rastek just makes a ‘get on with it’ motion with his other hand.

He hisses in sharply when I touch the cloth to him and all of his muscles flex taunt, but he doesn’t actually flinch. I do my best to be gentle, touching the raw areas as lightly as I possibly can. Rastek relaxes after a moment, gradually softening into my touch.

One of my hands comes to rest on his stomach, just as a place to rest it while the other hand is busy handling the cloth. I can feel him breathing under my touch- the slow rise and fall under my fingers. The slight twitches and shifts of his muscles. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of my head, fingertips scratching against my scalp. Sometimes, when I push a little too hard or move the cloth the wrong way, his fingertips twitch or his abs flex under my hand and I know to back off. We stay in silence for a while, communicating only with little motions and gestures that tell the other what we need.

When the wound looks satisfyingly clean, I fetch a roll of bandages and re-wrap it. Rastek moves pliantly wherever I guide him, leaning forward and lifting his arms when necessary. I secure the wrap at his shoulder and run my hands over it to ensure it sits flat and covers the wound completely.

“How’s that feel?” I ask.

“A little sore,” Rastek says. “But clean. Which is nice.” He looks up at me and I really register my position for the first time. I’m standing between his legs, bent down slightly to look into his face with one of my hands resting on his lower torso. Our faces are quite close. Rastek’s eyes gleam gold under his thick eyelashes, his tongue just barely tracing the bow of his upper lip.

Something hot flashes through me and I lean over and press my mouth to his.

He sighs into it, pushing back up into the kiss- I’m sure he could knock me over or take control if he really wanted to, but he tempers it so we’re meeting each other in the middle. I lean closer, sinking down until I’m resting on his lap. He hooks his arms around me, turning his head to get a better angle, and sighs into the kiss.

It’s so warm, being held by him. Not an oppressive heat, but the sort of gentle warmth that the sun gives on a spring day. Like the warmth of being wrapped up in bed when you have nowhere to go and time to just rest. It’s such a perfect and utterly familiar sensation, one that swells in my mind until-

Oh. I remember this. We kissed for the first time under a tree in Rastek’s garden. And I felt the same warmth then. And the next time we kissed, as well. And every time after that. When I’m with him, there’s always that same, comforting warmth.

Some of the memories are still vague, and there are blank spots, but what I remember, more than anything, is his warmth. No matter what happens, we can handle it together. That wound on his side is proof that I can save him, and he can save me. No matter what.

Rastek pulls back from the kiss and reaches a hand up toward my face. It’s only when he starts running his thumb under my eyes to swipe away wetness that I realize that I’ve started crying. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice hushed and worried.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I whisper, blinking to clear the last of the tears from my eyes. Rastek wipes them away as soon as they touch my cheeks. “I was just thinking that I’m happy we lived and I’m happy I’m with you.”

He bumps his forehead against mine. “I’m happy too.” His voice is choked with emotion.

“Do you remember,” I start, “when you asked me to marry you?”

Rastek murmurs a small noise of assent. He doesn’t say more, waiting for me to keep going.

“We were walking in our garden,” I say. “Right on the edge of the bit you’d set aside for me to grow my herbs. It was just past sunset, so the stars were coming out. I was just talking about what I was growing, nothing special. We’d talked about marriage in the past, but I didn’t think- I wasn’t sure if you would.

“You led me over to this small side part of the garden and there was a little sitting area. Something with cushions and places to lie down, since I have trouble standing for a long time. We sat there together and you told me that you wanted me to have a place outside.” I laugh. “And then I pointed out that it was in full view of where you trained, so I would be able to sit outside and watch you if I wanted-”

“Which I happen to recall you were pleased about,” Rastek cuts in, chest shaking with laughter.

“I’m telling the story,” I say to hush him, though he’s still laughing to himself. “Yes, I was happy about it, okay? I liked being able to be around you, even when I wasn’t feeling well.” I clear my throat to continue. “And then you took my hand and told me that you loved me and you wanted to be with me forever, and you asked if I would marry you.”

Rastek hums happily. “The look on your face was wonderful.”

“I was surprised,” I protest. “I really didn’t expect you to ask me to marry you. I probably can’t have kids and I’m sick so often, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to tie yourself to me forever. Not officially like that.”

“You always point that out,” Rastek says. “But I love you. Clever you, caring you, the you that is thoughtful and kind and practical. The you that loves me, just as I love you.”

“And I love you. Always.” I catch one of Rastek’s hands and lift it to my mouth, pressing a kiss to his wrist, right at his pulse point. His breath catches. “You said something similar to me, then. And then I kissed you like this…” I draw my lips back to his wrist, letting my teeth trace his skin. Rastek shivers. “And then… there was something that happened next, wasn’t there?”

“Yes,” Rastek says, his voice low and husky. “There was.” His free arm comes to my waist and he pulls me flush against him. “Perhaps it would help if you had a reminder.”

“Maybe it would,” I agree.” And then Rastek presses his mouth to mine, hard enough that I can feel the sharp edges of his fangs against my lips. His arms lock around me, holding me firm against him, then he stands. I let out a startled ‘eep!’ but Rastek only takes a few steps before sinking into the pile of pillows and cloth that make up the ‘bed’ section of the tent. He pins me under him, tail lashing furiously against the sheets. For my part, I’m trying to wrap my fingers through his hair to get a good grip. Every time I tug a little, he makes a muffled noise that I want him to keep making.

He breaks away from the kiss, wide-eyed and panting. “Are you sure?” he asks, panting a little. “You’re sure you’re-”

I use the fingers tangled in his hair to yank him back down on top of me. He does not ask again.

 Rastek has to rush to get things completed in time for us to leave after that, but he seems to be in quite a good mood regardless. I’m particularly tired and I end up napping for a while, before hastily throwing all my stuff together and hurrying to meet Rastek at the edge of camp.

We get into the carriage together. “Ready to go home?” Rastek asks. I nod.

“I’m ready to go home,” I say. Rastek reaches over to squeeze my hand. He looks the most peaceful and content I’ve seen him since I lost my memories. All I can feel is an overwhelming sense of joy. We’re together and alive. What else could I ask for?

The journey is quiet, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. Rastek and I don’t speak much, at least not about anything important. Sometimes we comment on the weather or talk about magic or gardening or anything else that catches our attention. We joke around, laugh, and enjoy the peace of the moment. Sometimes, I catch Rastek staring at me with a soft, happy expression on his face. I’d tease him about it, but I’m sure he’s seen me doing the same on more than one occasion.

Once we’re back at the manor, I get to my bed and fall face-first into it. It is enormously soft and wonderful. Rastek clambers in next to me and lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs to me. I roll over so I’m facing him. My fingers trace the lines of his face and his eyes get sleepy and unfocused.

“We’re home,” I agree. And, looking at him, I do feel like I have finally managed to come home.

Two weeks later, I’m sitting in the garden, watching Rastek complete some training exercises. His wound has healed nicely, and though he still has occasional moments of exhaustion, and I have to remind him not to exert himself too much. It’s a little nice, to be the one forcing him to rest instead of the other way around. Though I have to say, there is a small part of me that misses being exceedingly pampered.

My memory is strangely spotty still- the thaumatist looked me over several times and eventually declared that it would likely never return fully, but I have enough to get by- I can at least intuitively remember the names and faces of most important people, and I can navigate the manor as long as I don’t think too hard about where I’m going and let muscle memory take some of the burden. I’m cautious with mixing medicines and poisons, but that seems to have come back more strongly than almost anything else.

Almost anything else, because my memories of Rastek are striking in their number. The thaumatist suggested that simply being near him and speaking to him so much may have triggered them to come back the strongest, but there is a cheesy part of me that wonders if it’s the power of true love. Probably not, but Rastek blushed like fire when I suggested it to him, so it’s the answer I find the most fun.

Rastek whacks a training dummy to the ground and finally sheathes his sword. He’s panting with exertion, sweat coating his brow. It’s not something that would usually exhaust him so much, and I can tell from the set of his shoulders down to the irritated, cat-like twitch of his tail that he’s not happy about it.

“Come sit down,” I call out to him. He whips his tail around once more before relenting and walking over to me. The bed-couch seat that I’m in groans as he flops his weight onto it. I give him a pat on the shoulder. “This new workout routine is tough, huh?”

He pulls a face. “It should be nothing, compared to what I’m used to.”

“You were poisoned and almost died. Cut yourself some slack,” I say. “Anyway. I kind of like being on vacation.”

“Recovery is not a vacation,” Rastek grumbles. “This is more akin to torture.”

“I’m enjoying it,” I say. “And you were enjoying it too, last ni-”

Rastek cuts me off by laying a finger against my lips. “Yes, yes, I suppose I was.” He lowers his hand. “But I was thinking of going on a real vacation.”

“A real vacation?” I repeat.

“Yes. You know. Traveling.” He shifts into a more comfortable position, tail curling around me. “We haven’t done much of it before, because I was always afraid of pushing you too hard, but perhaps now is a good time. I’m not going back into the field for a while, and if we’re places we’ve never bene before, the gaps in your memory won’t be as noticeable.”

“Not worried about pushing me anymore, huh?” I tease.

“I think you’ve shown you can handle yourself quite capably,” Rastek says.

“Or maybe you’re just coming to terms with the fact that you’re the delicate one in this relationship now.” Rastek bursts into incredulous laughter. “Look, there’s no need to be embarrassed! Your body just has a weaker constitution after the poison, so-”

“Weaker, huh?” Rastek tackles me and pins me beneath him, though he’s quite gentle while doing so. If I really wanted to, I’m sure I could have resisted him. “Would you like to say that again?” There’s a playful growl in his voice.

I roll my eyes. “And here I thought you liked being called weak sometimes. Or should we just not repeat that-”

“I didn’t say that,” Rastek snaps, cutting me off. He shifts off me a little, giving me just enough room to sit up. “But I should complete my training before dinner, lest I become as weak as you proclaim me to be.”            “Just don’t push yourself too hard,” I say as he stands up and readjusts his armor. “And I would love to go on vacation with you, by the way.”

He smiles. “Then we can talk details over dinner. Perhaps I can take you to one of the Ley centers- we only ever visited there briefly, and it’s something we’ve wanted to go to for a long while.”

“Yeah,” I say, my chest warming. “I remember that.” I smile at him. “I love you.”

He bends over and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth. “And I love you, my dearest.

[writing-oof]

mermay shifter fundy idea

(Fundy is a mer. Fundy is…not a mer. The mer do not know this, and he doesn't know what would happen if they did.)

[Meeting his eyes, the mer softly croaks, "Hello?"

Fundy freezes this time, his sobs strangled in his surprise as he stops in his thrashing. He whispers, barely audible, and half convinced he made the sound up, "Hello?"]

A low croon spills over the sandy floor in time with the waves crashing overhead.

Fundy shudders, his scales shimmering slightly as his instincts scream for him to get out of the water and take off his scales. His shoulders rise up around his ears as he hunches in on himself, trying to make himself smaller in the face of danger.

Past the corals and idly swimming fish, past the reef sharks Fundy had only just managed to avoid, is another mer. A hungry mer, and--unless his mother had somehow been wrong about the likelihood of creatures like him--this one has always been a mer. It will be faster than him, stronger than him.

Fundy whimpers quietly, his hands curling in front of his face as he presses deeper into the hollow in the coral with an opening that had been just big enough for him to slip into with rough and uncoordinated jerks of his tail.

The low croon rings out again and something in Fundy's chest lurches, demanding that he follow the sound.

Safe, it whispers deceptively, a smile hiding rows of needlepoint teeth, Come.

He can hear the crooning mer moving closer, brushing into the caves to search for its prey. Fundy stiffens, nearly frozen in the surety that he's soon to be somebody's lunch, before lurching up higher into the cavern. He presses himself tightly against the ceiling above the entrance, hoping the awkwardness of the angle might prevent the mer from finding him.

Even preparing for it, Fundy bites back a shriek as a giant reaches into the cavern.

Logically, the mer is probably only slightly larger than the size of a full-grown human, but the shortest claw on the creature's hand is easily the same size as Fundy's head, its forearm matching his entire length from tail to hair.

Fundy can barely hold back a terrified whimper and he breathes an audible sigh of relief when the creature's hand thunks into the back of the cavern and it pulls away.

It finishes searching the coral caverns and lets out a surprised bark before trilling.

Come, it seems to say, Nothing here. Safe, now.

Fundy very much doubts that. He can hear the mer moving further away from the reef, and he nearly cries in relief. Only, the relief is short-lived with the paralyzing realization that there's more than one of them when a different mer swoops in and chirps just a few feet from Fundy's makeshift den.

They let out the playful chittering of a pup--a pup, half-grown, and not a guppy like Fundy--and two other pups chitter back.

Fundy can hear them wrestling outside the den and the flicking of their tails sends a few smaller fish ducking for cover in the cavern.

"Hi," Fundy whispers as one rests between his claws.

His stomach pangs and he pouts, cupping his hands like a net to pull the little fish closer.

"Don worry," he mutters, "m not gonna eat you."

The sounds of play fighting die down and Fundy listens to the three pups trill and chitter at each other, their words half-garbled to Fundy's ears.

Then, Fundy freezes, his grip falling slack enough for the little fish to fly out. A rumble is approaching, this mer sounding even bigger than the grown-up before. The scent of fish blood taints the water.

The three pups cheer, trilling their thanks as the Hunter mer gives them their share. The Hunter chirps contentedly.

Fundy smothers his responding chirp, burying it deep in his chest with all of the fishermen's warnings echoing between his ears.

Not nearly soon enough, the Hunter mer leaves and the pups bite into their fish.

The little fish, Fundy's new friend, swims little circles around his head, probably just as upset about his friends being eaten as Fundy is.

Still, the blood-infested waters turn Fundy's insides to knots, his stomach twisting painfully. He slowly sinks to the floor of the cave, curling around his middle as it cramps.

He can't help the pained whimper that spills into the water, his soft claws digging painfully into the hard coral.

Outside, he can hear the pups still. One of them chirps questioningly.

Hello?

Fundy whimpers again, more afraid than pained.

He can hear the pups swim closer to the coral cave.

Instead of reaching their massive claws into his cave, Fundy squeaks in surprise when one pup pushes their whole body into the cave, gliding through the entrance with a practiced ease. They're twice the size of him, at least, but they're not nearly as big as the crooning one.

They blink at him, surprised, before chittering softly at him, --- --- a baby? Baby -- the cave?

Fundy whines, pressing away from them.

They chirp at the other ones, Call ----! Call ----! ------- was here! ----- a baby!

One of the other pups chirps back confusedly, Pod ---- baby?

Hurry! the one in the cave with him snaps. Fundy whimpers, his soft claws curling in front of his face.

The pup winces before reaching out, their own half-hardened claws brushing against Fundy's scales.

He peeps, terrified as they prod at him, and the pup chitters softly again.

Shh, they say, ----- safe. Baby -- safe.

Scared? a different pup from outside chirps, -- --- baby hurt?

Hurt, Fundy warbles back, not really meaning to.

The pup half-holding his middle perks up. Talk? Baby --- talk? Baby -- hurt?

"Go away," Fundy spits, halfheartedly twisting away from them.

Baby, --- --- scared? the pup asks and Fundy whines.

Shh, they say, baby safe.

"Liar," Fundy mutters, whimpering when they push a little too hard against his insides.

The sound of rapid fin-beats looms, three grown-up mer moving closer with the pup who went to find them, and Fundy curls closer into the pup with a high and keening whine he can't hope to hide.

- ---- ---

"Please," Fundy begs, twisting away from the Hunter's claws, "please!"

The crooning mer jolts like they've been shocked, frozen for a moment before saying something to the Hunter. Fundy is carefully passed to the crooning mer, who presses the crying guppy tight to their chest.

Meeting his eyes, the mer softly croaks, "Hello?"

Fundy freezes this time, his sobs strangled in his surprise as he stops in his thrashing. He whispers, barely audible, and half convinced he made the sound up, "Hello?"

"Hi," the crooning mer says, smiling and carefully saying each word, "Why won't you eat the fish, little guppy?"

Not for the first time since putting on his scales, or since being pried from his makeshift home in the coral, Fundy busts into tears.

It's a lot less dramatic underwater, and it burns his eyes a bit more than it does on land, but the sobs are the same even in the sea.

The crooning mer tucks him under his chin, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

---

p: so what pod are you from?

f: oh, my dad left when i was little

p: what pod was he from?

f: uh, craft i think?

group, freezes: …

techno: what…what was your dads name?

fundy, stuffing his face with seaweed: uh, wilbur. why?

wilbur: about to pass out

tommy: no reason

---

wilbur: so what kind of mer are you?

sally, with complete confidence: salmon

wilbur, oblivious: oh wow so cool!

(there are no salmon mer lol salmon are way too small)

---

[Fundy vibing

Fundy hide

Fundy found

Pretend to be real mer baby (can talk a little but doesn't understand a lot)

---

picking up language rapidly (it's a human thing)

when questioned explained that he's lost from his pod and had an accident and he doesn't want to talk about it, implied that his parents maybe died

Fundy imprints on Wilbur before anybody notices oops too late now

Fundy tries to figure out how to sneak away back to shore but cant figure out

---

backstory chapter:

wilbur meets sally, falls in love, and sally disappears

phil helps wilbur desperately look for the salmon mer, but he can find no trace of them in any records, and no one's ever heard of them. they assume that the salmon must be very, very secretive and while the pod usually travels wilbur cant bare to leave where he met sally so they set up shop along the coast

all that leads to when phil asks what kind of mer he is so he can find fundy's pod

fundy says salmon and time stops

philza explains that they ran into a salmon mer before (fundy surprise pikichu cause he thought they didnt exist lol) and looked for her (dont name sally) but that the salmon mer are almost impossible to find

fundy pretend to be sad :'(

---

Philza leaves Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo with Puffy's pod and Wilbur decides to leave Fundy with Foolish and Eret's pod (because their pod cant handle all 4 kids, but Foolish knows like everything and can thus adequately figure out how to care for Fundy the salmon mer) and Techno and Wilbur and Phil go searching more intensely for the salmon mer

Fundy excited cause he can sneak away now!

but actually Finley and Junior are snitches and Eret sees All and Fundy is doomed

---

Eret get to know Fundy, Fundy just casually imprints on Eret as well oops 2 dads now

He hangs out with Finley and Junior (younger than him and also bigger than him)

Foolish returns from his trip and is like "...wtf there are no salmon mers. yes, i would know. I would definitely know if there were salmon mers and tehres not"

"then what abot babey?"

"…idk actually"

---

sbi find someone whos heard of salmon mer and tehy explain that basically fundys a changeling and sometimes lil alien babies appear in the water claiming to be a mer that dont exist, they learn language fast, can cry tears like humans and make baby cries like mer, and they can go on land and commune with the land dwellers sometimes

sbi's like "wtf ur crazy" but tehn they list all the 'sympotms' of the alien babies and sbi's like o.o

"nah…but what if"

fundy water fae lol

---

fundy eret bonding (eret not knowing wilbur's been imprinted w/ at this point)

its great

---

sbi return wills like "omg u steal my son u traitor die"

and erets like "woah, no, chill"

and they chill and agree to coparent babey

meanwhile fundy's like man i guess i kind of dont want to go back to land people like me here

but also he really misses his best friend hbomb who's been looking for him every day since he disappeared : (

---

Shapeshifting MerFundy: Save for Mermay 2024?

Fundy vibing

Fundy hide

Fundy found

Pretend to be real mer baby (can talk a little but doesn't understand a lot)

---

picking up language rapidly (it's a human thing)

when questioned explained that he's lost from his pod and had an accident and he doesn't want to talk about it, implied that his parents maybe died

Fundy imprints on Wilbur before anybody notices oops too late now

Fundy tries to figure out how to sneak away back to shore but cant figure out

---

backstory chapter:

wilbur meets sally, falls in love, and sally disappears

phil helps wilbur desperately look for the salmon mer, but he can find no trace of them in any records, and no one's ever heard of them. they assume that the salmon must be very, very secretive and while the pod usually travels wilbur cant bare to leave where he met sally so they set up shop along the coast

all that leads to when phil asks what kind of mer he is so he can find fundy's pod

fundy says salmon and time stops

philza explains that they ran into a salmon mer before (fundy surprise pikichu cause he thought they didnt exist lol) and looked for her (dont name sally) but that the salmon mer are almost impossible to find

fundy pretend to be sad :'(

---

Philza leaves Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo with Puffy's pod and Wilbur decides to leave Fundy with Foolish and Eret's pod (because their pod cant handle all 4 kids, but Foolish knows like everything and can thus adequately figure out how to care for Fundy the salmon mer) and Techno and Wilbur and Phil go searching more intensely for the salmon mer

Fundy excited cause he can sneak away now!

but actually Finley and Junior are snitches and Eret sees All and Fundy is doomed

---

Eret get to know Fundy, Fundy just casually imprints on Eret as well oops 2 dads now

He hangs out with Finley and Junior (younger than him and also bigger than him)

Foolish returns from his trip and is like "...wtf there are no salmon mers. yes, i would know. I would definitely know if there were salmon mers and tehres not"

"then what abot babey?"

"…idk actually"

---

sbi find someone whos heard of salmon mer and tehy explain that basically fundys a changeling and sometimes lil alien babies appear in the water claiming to be a mer that dont exist, they learn language fast, can cry tears like humans and make baby cries like mer, and they can go on land and commune with the land dwellers sometimes

sbi's like "wtf ur crazy" but tehn they list all the 'sympotms' of the alien babies and sbi's like o.o

"nah…but what if"

fundy water fae lol

---

fundy eret bonding (eret not knowing wilbur's been imprinted w/ at this point)

its great

---

sbi return wills like "omg u steal my son u traitor die"

and erets like "woah, no, chill"

and they chill and agree to coparent babey

meanwhile fundy's like man i guess i kind of dont want to go back to land people like me here

but also he really misses his best friend hbomb who's been looking for him every day since he disappeared : (

---

A low croon spills over the sandy beach in time with the waves.

In his hiding spot between the rocks, Fundy shudders.

There, past the tidepools and humans and sand, is another mer on this beach.

A *hungry* mer.

Fundy whimpers, his hands curling in front of his face.

Above him, a human coos.

"Poor little guy," she says, helping the other three pour cups of water over him and shift him onto some kind of solid net.

The low croon rings out again and, not for the first time since putting his scales on in the wrong waters, Fundy starts to cry. Hot tears spill and sobs curl out of his chest.

One of the human hisses. "I didn't know mer could cry."

Hands paused above him, the pink-haired human frowns. "They can't."

"What should we do?"

The pink-haired human brushes his tears away, helping settle him onto the flat net.

"We get him to the water," she says, and Fundy freezes at the thought of the deep, dark, hungry waters before throwing himself into motion.

He twists, hissing and thrashing until he's pressed against the rocky edge of the tide pool away from the humans.

He hisses again, his teeth bared and claws clicking together in front of his mouth nervously.

[thelien-art]

i'm enjoying the mermay drawings very much!! ty for posting them, they Spark Joy. and can i ask if there's a chance of a mer-glor appearing this mermay?

Sadly, no since I´m almost done with the last drawing I will make for this year mermay but Mer-glor is an obvious choice so maybe I´ll find the time for him before next year mermay:)

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Three]

I’ve tinkering with this part for a while now, and I wanted to post it before Mermay is over, because this fic is, after all, a mermaid AU of sorts. I hope you like it ^^

Viktor x Fem!Reader---/Gothic ft. Spooky Sea AU/-----2.8K-----SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T <

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Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port and a decrepit house near the wailing cliff. Every night, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Not so surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest of it is on you to discover.

Summary: Lonely nights and busy days, such is the life of a keeper. When Viktor goes out town, you have an opportunity to explore the depths of the house.

Tags: Curse| Ghosts| Sea Monsters| Sirens| Arranged Marriage| Tragic Love| Reincarnation| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Dark Magic| | Alusions to Death/Spooky (?) imaginery| Eventual Happy Ending| 

Chapter Three: All We Write

She came in with the storm, leaving no rock unturned, no place to hide, all while looking for him.

The words were smudged, blurred by run-on ink over the crusty edges of the paper.

Outside the lighthouse, the sudden thunder shook the old windows.

I prayed she could find him, so she could never return. What a fool I was—it would’ve been better to know nothing, as fear has ripped out the logical part of my head, leaving behind cloudy judgments and dreary illusions that siege the tower.

Alas; my pleas were in vain, for now, I hear her banging on the entrance door, her shrieks shattering the windows. With the power gone, she’s everywhere.

Your view ran over the last paragraph during one still night, the screams of the cliff a background noise, your mind enthralled inside a stolen memory, one that perhaps you shouldn’t have peeked into.

I’m scared.  

It was hard not to use the old logbook as a companion when Julio left. A bittersweet taste still in your tongue as you imagined being his granddaughter, the bubbly and smiling woman riding back a disheveled car out of town to never return. Jealousy, to be free.

The scribbles of this anonymous keeper resonated in your mind as if a real voice were muttering them to you with a gloomy tone of expectancy.

Days seemed shorter in the lighthouse, though night extended by hours with each passing vigil. While the creak of the wooden staircase grew familiar, the pull to watch the nightly seascape did not.

You started writing about everything in the navy-leather logbook that Viktor had slipped on the chair after he stood up to leave, now that he finally got what he wanted, the contract tucked inside his coat. The notebook was an odd twin of the one you found in the beacon’s room, except for the new white pages instead of yellow.

Though when you opened it and started to write that same night, it felt like turning back in time. In that old table, using the same creaky chair, a keeper—many of them— had done the same. Everything that ever changed was the person inside the lighthouse, with the outside frozen in the same misty, rainy parage of the nightly sea.  

Perhaps Piltover the Old didn’t really exist anymore, and it was rather another anachronic picture tucked away in a dusty drawer. Nonexistent until someone found it by mistake, because nobody would be looking for it. There was nothing to look at here, despite the last entries of the old logbook telling you otherwise.

Maybe not someone but rather, something.

At first, the euphoria of your new job made you follow Viktor’s words, filling concise paragraphs with nimieties about the weather; scorching hot during the day, cold winds sieging the coast at night, a ghostly veil covering the sea.

August 23rd. The wind is calmer tonight, with a drizzle against the window. There’s a drip just above the couch, when moved, there was an old photo of the lighthouse. It’s called The Longing.

August 30th. The drip is fixed—fix the window next? It filters water every night, making a puddle on the floor. The wood would rot and collapse if stepped on.

September 1st. Maintenance Day. The water filters were changed. Beacon cleaned. Viktor promised to show me how to turn the generator on in case of a blackout.

September 3rd. Viktor doesn’t like it—he says it sounds like the wail of a beast—but I find it calming. At least it drowns the cries of the cliff.

But after a couple of days, the routinary facts were buried between lines and lines that you hoped, nobody would ever read.

Sometimes, you thought sleeping wasn’t enough no matter how many sunlight hours seemed devoured when you took naps after each vigil. It drained you, to be awoke and paranoic when the world seemed calm and asleep. And now, without the snores of Julio echoing from the ground floor up the staircase, the weight of the loneliness pressed over your chest like an ominous promise.

One day, the light in Viktor’s office would turn off, too.

The dreaded day arrived when he walked one day in mid-October when you were covered in oil and charcoal from scrubbing the hearth until your hands were red and sore, your clothes grey with dust, hands black from tearing the old wallpaper from the walls.

“Eh, good evening, Miss,” Viktor said, his cheeks tinted a light pink for the walk. “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I needed to give you this before I leave.” The metal shone silver against the sun, and it felt cold and heavier than it looked when he put it in your palm. "I'll leave for the city for a month. This is the entrance key.”

You nodded. “Thank you, I promise I won’t be throwing anything away.” Viktor didn’t have a cleaning staff this time of the year. Autumn meant raging storms and terrible frost upcoming the merciless winter that would filter through every floorboard inside the cliff’s house. Not many people stayed in Piltover the Old during the season, much less venturing near the coast.

His golden eyes twinkled when he smiled, you couldn’t help but notice; temporarily erasing the signs of fatigue on his face. “You can start for the common areas and leave the study and the taxonomy room last, but please, do not overwork yourself,” he said as if he knew you would work yourself into exhaustion to have dreamless slumber.

You looked up at him, his figure outlined by the rapidly dimming light of the cloudy afternoon. “That means I’m excused from examining tidepools, I assume?”

Viktor nodded, making some locks of hair fall over his eyes. “Yes. At least until I tell you is necessary to start again.”

It was a grim activity, though you haven’t told him so. All the specimens washed ashore, trapped in those tidepools, were already dead when you scooped them out. Their fleshy bodies limp and cold and slippery weighing on your palm as you put them in buckets as carefully as you could. But their empty eyes still pierced through you when you held them, and you couldn’t stop from imagining what other things roamed the coast at night alongside these creatures.

He told you that sometimes some of them were still alive despite being trapped for so long, but as of now, you haven't encountered such a miracle—such torture, maybe—at feeling trapped in a tiny pond with diminishing oxygen.

“Alright.”

The cane tapped against the broken cobblestone, Viktor’s hand fidgeting with the worn-out handle. “You can take the biology book you've been asking for. I'll leave it on the desk."

A pause extended between both, your brain trying to scramble around to form a sentence. You weren’t counting on him to take your interest so seriously, mainly because you didn’t.

It was more like a self-soothing strategy, to trick yourself into thinking there was a logical explanation about your night sightings. That they were real, printed into some academic book, and not just a product of your paranoia.

“Ah—thank you, Viktor.” You felt your cheeks hot despite being tucked inside the threshold, the air inside the lighthouse stagnant and cold. “I’ll take good care of it.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you will." His eyes briefly went upwards to the beacon's room, though he hadn’t asked you not even once to come upstairs, and you weren’t sure if he could, even if he wished, thinking about the thin rail, the old and steep steps in the semi-darkness of the tower. “Just as you’re used to doing.”

You turned back to look inside the lighthouse, repairing tools scattered around the floor; a brush covered in white paint, fragments of a dirty sponge near the heart. Julio couldn’t wish to neat up the place as even climbing the stairs was an odyssey; though he didn’t wish to, even in his youth. He said it would feel strange, to conceal layers of the past as if they’ve never existed. That there were some things important to remember.

If he meant to recall them as they were or as they are now, it never occurred to you to ask.

You started to think otherwise while in the dead of night, scanning the old photo with the flicking illumination; a white tower reaching the sky, golden rays breaking into the darkness, fleetingly tinting the black waves a deep sapphire blue as it passed. Looking every night at the stained, you blinked between two worlds, a forgotten dreamland of deep chestnut boards, pristine glass, and bright arches, and the reality, with saltpeter opaquing the surface and stains of humidity seeping in.

“It’s just my job,” you said, not knowing how to respond. It was a half-truth, the other part still hiding, amorph, between the logbooks and your fuzzy mind.

His smile faltered, tilting his head as if wanting to say something else. “Well, then. I’ll get going now. I don’t want to interrupt you any longer.”

“Have a safe travel, Viktor.” He was already turning away, but your voice made him gaze over his shoulder one last time, though his eyes were drawn to the turned-off beacon rather than your waving hand.

“Take care, Miss,” Viktor mumbled, and it may be your imagination, but when he met your eyes for a brief second, you felt words embedded in them. Suddenly, that 'take care' sounded less like a polite farewell and more like a wish.

A warning, even.

*~*~*~*

The night seemed to know how much you craved the coming of the sun, so it would deny you of its presence. Cloudy, rainy days unlike any summer you've experienced in Piltover the Old arrived after Viktor left.

Thunderstorms that made the windows of the beacon room shake under the gentle touch of your fingers, air currents that howled as the abyss did overnight, their translucent fingers brushing sand and dry leaves toward you on your walk uphill. Trying to take you with it, too.

Your new sweater felt stiff with sand, hands digging in its pocket for the entrance key, scarf tied loosely around your neck with the paranoic feeling of the wind strangling you if you knotted it too tightly.

It was only November, but you could picture a fine layer of ice around the stone stairs already, crunching under your leather boots that didn’t fit you so well, but you weren't in the position to complain, thankful the thrift store in town still had shoes left upon the arrival of freezing season.

Despite being at the mercy of the marine wind, the porch didn’t show any signs of saltpeter over the old, grey walls that seemed to loom over the gabled roof. The grey stone was mossy though, the utter layer starting to crack, showing glimpses of the inside.

It was a cold, windy evening with a strangely cloudless, icy blue sky, but the foyer was dark, shadows looming at every corner until your vision grew used to the penumbra.

Dark wood covered the floor, and worn-out and stained carpets up the staircase. The walls had the same blue wallpaper of wildflowers that you ripped from the lighthouse; this one looking newer.

There were paintings scattered around, copper and silver frames shining against the hazy orange hues of the lightbulbs: all seascapes picturing stormy seas, tumultuous waves crashing in swaying ships, dark cliff sides under shining lonely moons.  

Your wet boots squeaked on the floor like a cry as you strode your way toward the taxonomy room, hidden under the staircase on the ground floor, seemingly constructed where a cellar ought to be.

You stopped in front of twin doors framed with iron, a gigantic circular handle that felt rough under your pull when you slide the key into the far left one. It didn’t budge, metal screeching as you moved away.

From the opening space between the hinges and the wall, you felt a cold wind blow over your face.

You turned around, toward the window you just cleaned yesterday. Your hands pulled the lock, but it was locked. Then, the sensation of the wind outside was still tickling your skin.

Feeling stupid, you opened the correct one, the shadowy insides of the room spilled into the dimming hallway, pitch black and bottomless with the characteristic smell of salty air from the coast inside—an inducing coincidence while knowing what was inside.

You flicked the light at the entrance, pulling the chord in the upper left of the wall as you stepped in, door open, steps muffled in a worn-out navy carpet as you descended a short flight of stairs.

Shelves were covered in old books, their leather-colored covers starting to dull; tossed papers scattered in the enormous oak desk aligned across the door. From your position, you could see the book Viktor promised to lend you, a red cover with golden letters that shone against the light.

The World Beneath.

You stopped as your view swept in the rest of the place, hands clutched against your stomach.

In the lateral walls rested at least a centenary of specimens of fishes and aquatic mammals, the majority of which looked older than the house’s owner, with yellowy tags, dusty globes of crystal covered the ones that weren’t soaked in preserving solution. To compare them, Viktor had drawn—or maybe cut off—, illustrations and diagrams of their anatomies.

Without meaning to pry, but needing to organize the havoc, you discovered a pile of notebooks tucked inside one of the desk’s drawers. You wondered if those ledgers would be filled with scribbles about his studies, or if they were keeper’s logbooks.

As you worked around the room, with buckets filled with soapy water and rags to clean, you let yourself wander into its insides. The books felt warm and soft against your hands, yellow pages thin and filled with scribbles. Marine biology tomes, you supposed from the titles that went from creative to self-explanatory.

So that’s what Viktor did in Piltover the Old, researching the marine ecosystem. But then there were other books, covers older and titles smudged. A History of Magic, The Art of Grimoires. They were tucked, forgotten in the lower shelves, so dusty you couldn’t open them without sneezing uncontrollably.

Then… those books weren’t his but perhaps the last house’s owner. Maybe his father, or whoever gave him the house. There were no papers on the desk, and the cabinets filled with specimens only guided you to an unknown coast, the tags reading the fishes' names and their natural habitats, descending further down the ocean’s zone.

In the east corner, under a wooden plank that read ‘Bathypelagic Zone’, the triangular space dipped lower to fit the staircase’s triangular form, dawning shadows from the scarce light. There was an empty cabinet, the biggest of them all, a paler outline put against the wall where a thing used to be.

On the tag, the letters were blurry, almost erased from the surface entirely, but your mind filled those empty places with letters.

Mermaid specimen (allegedly a siren*).

Donated by Mr. Gavin Stell.

*Symbols on its upper extremities.

Another remnant of the last owner, to when this tiny town was swarming with tourists trying to sight, to lure the mermaids seemingly living at the bottom of the cliff, so they could fulfill their wishes in exchange for an adequate offering.

What a stupid tradition it was, but at least such activity brought the town prosperity, with taverns filled with drunk men claiming they had seen one; stores filled with allegedly real mermaid’s scales, charms to ward off from sirens while navigating the sea near the coast, and of course, special shells from which one could call them with.

When you finished cleaning, your brow was covered in sweat, hands wrinkly from them being soaked in cold water for hours. The place still looked old, frozen in time just like the lighthouse, but the stench of sea and fish had almost disappeared.

Tomorrow you’ll come back to mop the floor, but today you must resume your job as a keeper, as the light was growing fainter, in a dull shade of grey.

Rain echoed inside the quiet room, fat drops of water against the roof falling lazily. But amidst the rhythm of their fall, you heard a knock on the entrance door.

Surely, you had to be mistaken. Viktor had his key, and there was no one in their right mind to venture this far near the coast in this climate.

And then, there was again. Wood smashing against someone’s fist. Someone’s shoulder. Bangbangbang. Bang. BANG.

The thunderstorm wasn’t here yet, the sound amplified by the almost empty house, so in those fleeting moments when you hold your breath to hear again, they screamed in a voice out of a too-familiar nightmare:

“Open the door! We know you’re in there.”

[blinddreams24]

Glass

A Mermay Prompt

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You were shaking. A lot.

The excess magic from that candy was flooding your system and you couldn’t sleep. And there was a lot of excess.

You couldn’t bring yourself to drink coffee and you didn’t have any calming tea. The house had already been swept. Twice. The walls were clean, the windows were washed, the toilet was scrubbed, and you were sitting in your living room, bouncing your knee. Your mind was running at a thousand miles per hour and yet you still couldn’t think. You checked your phone.

It was 2am.

Had you really cleaned everything? Surely you missed something.

Your hands were twitching.

Everything looked polished. You’d even vacuumed the couch.

Your legs hurt.

Everything was dusted and mopped.

Your chest ached.

Maybe you forgot the dishes? Yeah, that was it!

You stood and paced into the kitchen where you opened a cabinet. Yeah, you hadn’t washed these. Reaching in with shaky hands you grabbed a stack of plates.

And dropped them as soon as they left the cabinet.

Shattered glass went everywhere. You immediately reached down to pick up the pieces and lifted everything you could find into the trash. You had more plates, it was fine.

Suddenly you didn’t feel like doing the dishes.

You couldn’t handle it. You had to do something. Or calm yourself down.

Maybe stargazing again?

The car keys found their way into your hands and you were off. It took forever to get there and no time at all. You hurried down the hill to your alcove, which was mostly flooded with the tide, and paced at the waters edge.

In your hurry, you’d forgotten your scuba gear. Not that it was smart to swim after dark but you weren’t smart right now.

The wind howled around you, threatening a storm, and the waves beckoned you forward. Your shoe sank into the cold water.

A familiar deep whistle split the air, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to the water. When you stepped back the whistle stopped.

A bright red orb floated over the water.

You stumbled back, tripped over your own feet, and landed on your butt. “H-H-Hey, b-big guy!” You stuttered and scrambled for your bag. When you couldn’t find it, you realized that in your scramble to get moving you hadn’t brought any food. “I-I d-don’t have f-f-food right n-now, b-buddy! B-But I c-can go g-get some!” You gestured a thumb over your shoulder.

He came out of the water towards you.

Oh stars, you were gonna die. He was gonna kill you.

You turned to run but didn’t even get to your feet before a tentacle wrapped around your leg.

“N-No! P-Please! Sir! I c-c-can get y-you m-more f-f-food! Please!” You gripped the loose rocks and tried to pull yourself away from the mass of muscle.

The whistle started again.

Fear and urgency left you, but you were still very aware of the danger you were in. “S-S-Sir. P-Please. I d-don’t w-w-want to d-die. P-Please.” Your voice was tired and jittery at the same time.

The siren pulled you closer until you were almost against his chest. He made a shushing gesture at you and reached towards you.

You closed your eyes, anticipating the giant’s hand to break your neck or something. You didn’t want to die, but there was nothing you could do.

Your eyes shot back open when he started petting your hair. What was he doing? You looked up at him.

He smiled kindly at you and let his low whistle fade to a stop. “You’re… okay.” He drawled slowly, as if the words were hard for him. “I won’t… hurt.. you.” With that said he turned his attention to your hand.

Still shocked, you followed his gaze. The eerie red light of his eye lit up multiple cuts and bits of glass in your hands.

“O-Oh.” Was all you could say.

He carefully held your hand steady and… started picking the glass out of your hand.

You stared openly, completely uncaring of if it was rude. “Y-Y-You-?”

“Shh.” A huge finger shushed you. “…Working.” He seemed very focused.

He was really picking the glass out of your hand. Just because. Surely that one day wasn’t enough to form a bond with the siren.

Carefully and patiently, he picked each and every piece of glass out of your hands. Your excess magic surged into your hands to heal the cuts once he was finished.

“Done.” He hummed. “Now, I can… give… answers.”

You didn’t hesitate. “W-Why a-are you helping-g m-m-me?”

He gave you a gentle smile. “You… helped… first.”

“I h-h-helped you?”

He nodded.

“H-How?”

“Food. Hungry. Hard to… catch…… normal.. prey.” He grumbled.

You blinked. “Were y-you st-st-starving?”

After a few moments, he nodded.

“Aren’t y-you p-p-part of a p-pod? Don’t your… f-friends h-help y-y-you?”

He shook his head. “Only… Nightmare. But… Boss’s… sleeping. Sleeps long… Very long…”

“C-Cross a-and K-K-Killer d-don’t help y-you?” You were starting to hate this energized stutter.

He looked you in the eyes with a desperation you’d never seen before. He shook his head.

“I-I’m th-the only p-person to h-help you? B-Besides N-Nightm-mare?”

Nod.

“W-Well.” You held out a hand. “I-I’m y/n. I-It’s n-nice to of-f-fficially m-meet you. S-Sorry f-f-for yelling-g a-at you earlier.”

He grabbed and inspected your hand before letting you go. “…Name’s Horror.” He leaned in towards your face as you tried not to lean away. “You have… too much magic…”

You laughed nervously and dry. “Y-Yeah. K-Killer gave m-me a c-c-candy to h-heal this.” You pulled up your sleeve to show him the bite mark.

“Hmm. You… smell like him.”

“I d-don’t know w-w-what to say t-to th-that.”

“Heheheh.” He chuckled at you. “‘S not… bad. Who… bit you?”

Suddenly, the magic decided it wanted to be in your face. “Uhh… K-Killer b-bit me…”

The humor left Horror’s face. “…Oh…….. Then he… healed you?”

“Y-Yeah? E-Earlier? Yest-t-terday? W-When it was b-b-bright. B-But th-the bite d-didn’t heal… S-Something ‘bout i-intent.”

“Hmm.” Horror looked you over again. “…Did he ask you… about being… a siren?”

“B-Being a s-siren?”

He gave you an odd look. “Would you… like to… be a siren? He intended… conversion.”

“He w-what?”

The siren sighed. “The candy. Killer put… intent… to turn you into a… siren. It won’t-.”

“W-What?!?” You looked down at your legs, terrified. You couldn’t just turn into a siren! What if you turned into a siren while at your house?? You’d never make it to the water in time!

“Shh.” Horror put a finger on your mouth. “Let me… finish. It won’t turn you… into a siren. This type… of conversion… is long and… tedious. You have to… accept the change… and have… many doses of magic. The other way…” He frowned. “…is less pleasant.

“You have nothing… to be scared of. Your will can… stop the change… if you want. It takes weeks… if you choose to… convert.”

“O-Oh. So… I-I-I w-won’t turn i-into a s-siren out of n-nowhere?”

He shook his head. “Not enough… magic or consent.”

“W-Why would K-Killer d-d-do th-that?”

Horror shrugged. “Might not have… meant to. His intent’s… unstable. Maybe just meant… to keep you safe… and… unintentionally… wanted you… close.”

“Oh.” He… He wanted to keep you safe?

“……You….. wanna hug?” Horror awkwardly offered.

“I… y-yeah.” You hugged the siren.

Horror curled over your small form. He chuckled. “…Tiny.”

“N-Not you t-too!!”