Chapter Text
Human ships drift through the ocean like the bloated carcasses of dead whales, and they sink in much the same way. Unlike whales, their wooden bulks don’t provide meals for the creatures of the deep, but sometimes their passengers do.
That is what Hubert is depending on as he watches this ship burn, his long, dark scaled tail twitching with anticipation of a feast. His head is just out of the water enough to watch the great plumes of flames engulf the ship, dark eyes nearly closed against the bright flashes of light. Someone might be able to see him in the dark, seeing as his pale skin is a sharp contrast to his black clawed hands and scaled tail, but no humans are likely to look in this direction now. Their screams and shouts carry over the water, and he can pick out the movement of human figures leaping over the sides of the ship. He doesn’t race to them, instead biding his time. They’re far from any solid land now, and they’ll be easy to catch in a few hours when they’ve exhausted themselves from trying to swim. Some will drown before then, of course, but Hubert is content to let carrion and bottom feeders have those corpses. He only needs one fresh human to last him a week or more.
Gradually, the ship burns down until the construction is little more than burned out embers. It's then, when the heat of the flames has finally died down, that Hubert slips back under the water to seek out his prey of choice.
He passes many dead bodies, some smelling of ash and blood that tells him how they died. He doesn’t give them a second thought. Dead flesh isn’t what he’s looking for in a meal tonight, not when there’s sure to be better pickings. Still, as he swims, the scent of blood gets stronger, and he sees a flick of a triangular fin through the murk. Shark mer are already converging, which means it won’t be long before he’ll be forced away from the feast by sheer numbers. The ravenous creatures just love to swarm and gorge, not caring what they take a bite of when they’re in a frenzy. Hubert circles around where he saw the fins, and finally he spies a pair of human legs that seem to be weakly pumping in the water.
Closer inspection confirms what he saw. This human is still moving, not yet dead, and doesn’t smell as strongly of ash and blood as the bodies he’s passed so far. This human will live for a while yet, making it optimal prey. He approaches slowly, judging the best method of attack.
The human is still clutching a wooden board from the ship, using it to stay afloat and keep it's head above water. It’s skin is a contrast to his own, brown instead of pale white, which is a bit of an oddity. Usually the humans he finds are a pale pink, nearly as white as him, but not this one. Oh well, it matters little the color of the human. He strikes quickly, beginning by wrapping his tail around the human’s legs, squeezing them together. The human lets out a squawk of surprise as it sinks, losing grip on the wood. Before it can retaliate, Hubert rips the soft false skin near it's neck, making room so that he can bite it. His venom enters his prey’s bloodstream, and it goes limp in his arms.
The venom isn’t enough to kill it, but it's enough to keep it limp and pliable as he transports it to his den. Getting a fresh kill isn’t worth it if he kills the creature before he can even enjoy it. What’s more, with the shark mer swarming nearby, blood in the water would draw their attention, and they would interrupt his meal, possibly taking a chunk out of him in the process. He whispers a quick spell that will let the human breathe underwater during their journey before roughly grabbing it and beginning his descent.
Hubert’s lair is deep out of necessity, it's entrance blocked by undulating fronds of seaweed that make it difficult for even those predators with spectacular eyesight to see. On top of that, the tunnel leading to his den is prohibitively small, as there are places where he can just barely squeeze past. He has to drag the human along wrapped in the tip of his tail to fit, careful not to bash it's head against the rock walls. Once he’s safe inside, though, he can grab the human again with his hands and haul him up onto a rock ledge.
The actual interior of his den is partially an air pocket, chosen not for that but for the luminescent lichen that dwell there. In a fit of aesthetic madness, he’d decided this place was worth it for that alone. There was only the one rock ledge above the water, though, and plenty of nooks below that are perfect for curling up to sleep or stowing interesting detritus he decides to keep against his better judgement. The rock ledge is ideal for things like this--carving up prey without flooding the water with blood. Once the human is on the ledge, he climbs up alongside it, looking over his prize.
A bit skinny, all things told. It's loose outer skin had fooled him somewhat in the water, giving it more shape than it truly has, but that is not a complete loss. The creature isn’t skin and bones, and it will still be good eating. As he’d noticed before, the skin is an odd coloration, not one he’s used to as a denizen of the deep. The darker tone extends to all but the pads of the human’s hands, curiously enough, which are more pink. The human is quite pretty, all told, with even a face that is pleasing to him. The thought stirs a hunger deep within him--and not the hunger he expects. Then again, it is nearing the time of year when he develops eggs, isn’t it? He dismisses the errant thought as simply hormones. Humans are not the type of mate he would seek. No one is the type of mate he would seek. Like all the years before, he’ll scatter the eggs to be devoured by others.
Shaking his head, he starts ripping the outer skin away from the human’s chest to find a myriad of scars, far more than he’s seen on other humans. He looks them over for a moment, taking in gashes and old wounds that should have killed a human such as this. The human has been through battles in it's life. The long, deep cuts are interspersed with shiny burns and pitted places, not unlike his own scars from acid spat at him long ago, when he was more reckless. Was this human reckless? Or unlucky? The latter seems true, now. Curiosity sated, Hubert reaches upwards to snap the creature’s neck. No point in prolonging the death and making it bloody. The pain can sometimes counteract his venom if he leaves them alive, and that can make things more difficult. Just as he’s reaching for the human’s chin (lined with fine if prickly hairs), it’s eyes snap open.
Irises like glittering green gems catch Hubert, stealing his breath. His mind doesn’t comprehend what he’s seeing for a moment, caught by the startling color and held as if by some magic compulsion. He’s broken out of it by a sharp, searing pain in his side, and he snarls, rearing backwards.
The human is moving now, a metal object in its grasp with a tip sharper than any claw and dripping with Hubert’s blood. It backs away from him, crawling into a crouch with the bloody object between itself and Hubert. Hubert presses one hand to his side and feels the wound there, a deep stab that pulses with pain. He hisses as he presses against it, willing the bleeding to stop. It shouldn’t be a fatal wound, but it is certainly annoying.
The human only takes those green, green eyes off of him to glance at its surroundings, but it doesn’t linger on the glowing lichen for long. They settle on him again, looking at him hard.
“Do you speak?” the human says, and Hubert recognizes it's words, of course. It's the language of humans in the lands above.
“How are you awake and moving?” he snaps back. “I bit you. My venom should have you out cold.”
The human makes an odd noise deep in its throat. A chuckle, he realizes. “Too bad for you, poisons and venoms don’t last long on me. What did you intend to do with me once you got me… wherever this is? Eat me?”
“Intend? I am still going to. Unless you think you can outswim me, human.” Hubert doesn’t usually talk to his prey, but it seems this one is going to be a special case. The majority of his tail is still in the water, and it’s too dark for the human to see it. He can maneuver it around, use it to hit him from behind--
Suddenly, the world starts to spin. Dizziness hits him hard, and he wobbles in the air.
“Hah, looks like the poison on my blade is working better than your venom,” the human says, voice smug and light.
It takes Hubert a moment to realize he’s on his side on the stone ledge now, one hand still slick with his own blood. Everything around him moves and wobbles even when he’s not moving, like he’s caught in a whirlpool. “I’ll kill you,” he snarls, but his words are slurred, and he can barely focus on the human now.
“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” the human retorts. He hears the wet slap of the human’s feet on stone as it comes closer, until finally he can look up just enough to focus on its face, even if it's still too far away to reach out and kill it. “That said, I wouldn’t kill me just yet. That poison’s fatal, but I’ve got the antidote. I can save you, if you agree to take me back to shore.”
“Fine,” he snarls, though he has no intent of keeping that promise. Once his strength is back, he can simply kill and eat the human then.
“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the human replies. “I’m not as easily convinced as that. You’ll have to try a little harder, merman.”
Dizzy and horrible as he feels, Hubert can’t help laughing a little at that. “Mer? Hardly.” He raises himself up just a little, trying not to throw up bile as he focuses on those green eyes. “Fine then. What will convince you?”
“A Pact,” the human says, and Hubert snarls in frustration.
Every mer knows what a Pact is, even the barely acknowledged eels like Hubert. It’s old magic, from the time before now when humans knew more of magic and the sea. Pacts could be made between groups or individual mer and humans, promising safety or a trade. The traditional use was when a human saved an important mer, the mer’s tribe would form a Pact with that human. Pacts are, by necessity, completely binding. If he makes one, whatever this human tells him to do, he’ll have to do. Breaking it means his own death.
But the fact that a human even knows about those… Hubert, admittedly reclusive, hasn’t heard of a Pact being formed in thousands of years. It was thought humans forgot about them completely, as they are considerably shorter lived than mer. Apparently, though, that wasn’t the case.
Hubert gives up trying to sit up and flops back to the rock beneath him. “Fine,” he growls, “whatever you want. I assume you know the words?”
“Naturally,” the human replies. Hubert has doubts, but he’ll wait and see. After all, if the human messes it up, that’s only to his advantage. To Hubert’s growing dismay, the human speaks in halting but passable mer tongue the beginning of the spell for a Pact.
“By Pact I bind us, body and soul, never to break or my flesh to score.”
Hubert has no choice but to repeat it, slurring the words a little.
“By Pact I bind us, body and soul, never to break or my flesh to score.” Magic hums in the air, confirming that the Pact bargaining has begun.
The human taps their chin with a free hand. “In exchange for the antidote, I want you to lead me out of this cavern and back to dry land, safely and with no injuries you inflict. Oh, and you can’t kill me, for the rest of your life.”
Hubert snarls. “Just adding on that last one, are you?”
The human shows it's teeth in a grin. “Hey, I know a thing or two about revenge. Don’t want to see that hanging over my head, personally. Besides, you can add what you want. Within reason.”
Hubert bares his teeth, not even remotely grinning, but he thinks hard about it. What could a human possibly provide, other than sustenance?
The realization hits him like a tidal wave. A human can provide a warm body. It won’t be so long until his heat begins, and his clutch soon after. As annoying as this situation is, maybe it’s something he can use to accomplish his own ends.
It’s a pathetic draw, perhaps. Eel mer usually mate with their own species or with another mer in a pinch, but technically speaking, a human should suffice. And, well, annoying as this human has been so far, Hubert doesn’t find it unattractive, as far as humans go. And it’s hardy, crafty, if it's scars and the way it's twisted him around it's finger is anything to go by. Anything it contributes to their young will likely be good for their survival. And, maybe he’s just tired of eggs that will never hatch.
“Mate with me,” Hubert says aloud.
The cavern is silent for a moment.
“Sorry, what?” the human finally says.
“Give me the antidote and mate with me. Bear my young. It won’t kill you, as you’ve already stipulated. And you cannot kill me, or let another human kill me or my offspring after all this is said and done.”
The human twirls the sharp object in its hand, the blood on it drying now. “Gotta say, that’s not what I expected,” the human says. “I mean, I knew I was handsome, but not enough to draw the attention of a mer who wanted to eat me ten minutes ago.”
“Take it or leave it,” Hubert says, suddenly embarrassed by the proposal. This is stupid. His weakness is stupid, the ache in his heart when he sees his barren eggs each clutch is stupid. Is it not simply enough for him to live? “If you don’t want to, strike it from the agreement, I don’t care. If you give me the antidote, I’ll still take you to the surface.”
“No, you’re right, just some antidote does seem cheap for what I’m getting out of the bargain,” the human says, to his surprise. He looks up too sharply, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut as the world spins again. “And I’ve gotta say, I’m kind of interested. We don’t have many books on your kind, you know. Not many humans can say they hooked up with a mer and lived to tell the tale. But, I’ll tell you beforehand, I’m male. Not sure how well I can ‘bear’ your young.”
Hubert, stunned for a moment, lays in silence. But he can’t stay that way for long. He can feel the poison traveling through his bloodstream now, paralyzing him as it goes. He can barely move his arm on that side of his body now.
“Your gender does not matter,” he says. “Only your ability to carry eggs.”
“Well, I’m game if you can make it work,” the human replies. It--he--pulls something out of his outer skin, a small vessel of glass with a milky liquid inside. In Mer, he continues the Pact agreement. “With that, our Pact is made.”
“With that, our Pact is made,” Hubert echoes. The magic closes around them with finality, and Hubert breathes out a sigh.
“Now, let’s get you patched up!” The human crouches beside him, moving his hand to look at the wound. “Whoops, I went a bit deep there. It’s still bleeding a bit, too, but that’s not a bad thing. Means I don’t have to reopen it to pour this stuff in.” Hubert clenches his teeth as the pain in his side intensifies briefly while the human uses his hands to pull the gash apart. Then he opens the little vessel and pours the cloudy liquid directly over his wound. “Gods, I think the best thing I’ve got for a bandage is what’s left of my shirt, too. You didn’t need to rip that up, you know.” He pulls off what is left of the outer skin over his chest and tears it into long strips. One wadded up piece he places directly over the wound after wetting it with water, wrapping the rest over it to keep it in place. “Not the best bandage job, but it’s what I can do for now. How long do you think that will take to heal?”
Hubert can already feel his head starting to clear, but in the wake of the poison, he feels exhausted. “If I’d been able to eat you? A day and a half. As it is, though, it should be closed up enough by that time for me to go hunting then.”
“Damn,” the human says. “Sounds like it’ll be slim pickings for me until then, too. Unless…” He looks thoughtful for a moment, an expression Hubert is already beginning to associate with bad things. “How far are we from the surface?”
“Far enough to kill you,” Hubert retorts.
“I assumed,” the human says, “but how did you get me down here? Was it another part of your venom, or did you use a spell or something so I could breathe?”
This human is far too smart for his own good. “A spell,” he grinds out.
The human brightens. “So you could do it again, and maybe I could go out and find us something to eat!”
Hubert snorts. “I’ve seen how humans swim. Unlikely.”
“Well, we’ll have to do something,” the human replies. “I can probably last that long without potable water, but I’d rather not have to.”
“It’s not that simple,” Hubert says. “The spell only works as long as I’m touching you. You’d need me with you, or a part of me--” he cuts himself off.
“You have an idea there, I can tell,” the human says. “Out with it, mister eel man.”
He snorts. “My name is Hubert. I’d appreciate it if you’d use it.”
“No problem, Hubie,” he says with a grin. “You can call me Claude.”
Claude. Not a bad name. His nickname for Hubert, on the other hand... Somehow, he’s going to have to stop himself from killing this human before he can complete their Pact.
“Claude,” Hubert says out loud, tasting the name. “Fine. Yes, there is a way I can extend the spell for a longer period, though it will only last a few hours at most. Come here.”
The weapon is gone now, probably put away somewhere, as Claude approaches him and sits. “What do you need me to do? Suck your dick? I guess if I swallowed, a part of you would come with me.” Claude winks. Hubert sighs, but he’s not too far off.
“Not… that,” Hubert says. “My saliva is potent enough for that.”
“Ooh, first kiss with a mer,” Claude says. He sits up on his knees. “Okay, let’s go.”
Hubert’s tongue slides out of his mouth as he manages to sit up, feeling much less woozy than before. At least the antidote is doing it's work. He leans over towards Claude, pausing for a moment before gently licking his neck. The taste of sweat and salt lingers there, and Claude’s eyes go half lidded, green pupils trained almost hypnotically on him. Before he can be entranced, Hubert lifts his tongue and licks the tip over Claude’s lips. He opens his mouth, his own miniscule tongue welcoming Hubert’s into it. Hubert’s tongue coils around his, tasting it, feeling the heat of it. Humans are so much warmer than mer. Why had he never thought of doing this before? He slips his tongue slowly down Claude’s throat, drawing closer until their lips meet, Claude sucking and swallowing around his tongue. Black saliva drips past his lips, and blunt tipped digits feel along Hubert’s sides. For a moment, Hubert gets lost in the warmth of the human before him, forgetting his purpose in this, anything but that wet heat. He wants to do more, aches to, to press this human down and--
He draws back, tongue slithering back into his own mouth, still tasting of Claude. Claude himself licks his lips and wipes his mouth.
“That was pretty good,” he says, eyes looking sultry. “Looks like you can eat up a man in more ways than one.”
“You should be able to breathe underwater now,” Hubert says, ignoring the comment. “The tunnel is straightforward, and you should fit the whole way. You’re slim enough.”
“Not even a compliment? Hubie, you wound me.” He sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine, I’ll see what I can find out there.”
“Don’t go far,” Hubert snaps. “If you’re eaten while I’m here injured, that’s no fault of mine.”
“Aw, you do care! Don’t worry, careful is my middle name.” He gives an odd two fingered salute before diving into the water. Hubert has no idea what he means by “middle name”, but at least he’s a more adept swimmer than many humans Hubert has seen. He’d never outswim a mer, certainly, but he’s not floundering and probably won’t get stuck in the tunnel. With that, he lets himself sink back into the water. The bandage on his side stays tight, a testament to Claude’s ministrations. Even in the cool water, he still feels flushed from the kiss, the taste and heat of Claude lingering on his tongue. He covers his face with both hands. Depths take him, just what has he agreed to?