Chapter Text
Jeremy discarded his fine riding coat behind the servant’s door just outside a run-down inn. The rickety structure looked like it had been standing since his great-grandmother’s reign, the old wood barely flecked with peeling paint and cracked along the grain. Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, tousling it and mussing the crease left from where his crown had sat all morning.
A few silver coins slipped from his purse easily, and he took the time to count them before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his white linen shirt. An easy smile split across his lips as he untied his mare’s reins from the hitching post she’d been standing at.
Tight alleyways and old stone buildings created a labyrinth around him, but Jeremy knew his country’s capital better than anyone. It took him two turns to find an unsuspecting royal guard, and barely a flash of his smile with the silver pressed into the man’s palm before Jeremy was disappearing into the slums with twilight on his heels. His horse would be delivered home, and would be pampered by the stable hands as he hid from reality.
The city still thrummed with life that would well into the evening. While the excitement surrounding his brother’s engagement party had been tame during the day, Jeremy suspected the cheers of celebration for their future king would soon become drowned out. The week’s end brought wayward travellers home and folks out of their houses and into the streets. Gambling dens already had their burly men waiting out front, and the scent of liquor lingered outside doorways Jeremy strode past.
Jeremy ducked under a violet awning and knocked on the door of a brothel he knew too well. The glass beads on the other side of the door clicked together with the vibrations from his knock, and he heard the sharp click of heels make their way towards him. Perfume and smoke curled around his head, greeting him with their caress that wiped away the lingering memory of the party he’d been all too eager to escape.
“Thought we’d be seeing you tonight.” The Procurer sneered as she opened the door a crack. Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and reached a hand to his coin purse.
“You know me well, Madam.”
She snorted, muttering a string of words in a tongue Jeremy didn’t know as she opened the door to let him in. Everything scenting the air became stronger, warm and hazy lights fuddling his senses as the woman dragged her nails down his arm.
“The usual?” She cocked a brow, her voice a little louder now that they were inside. Jeremy dipped his chin in a single nod, watching her lips curl into something like delight.
“Half now.” She demanded with an outstretched palm, eyeing the coins hungrily as Jeremy let them click together in her hand. As soon as she was certain he wasn’t shorting her, she waved him off down the hall. “Last room on the left tonight.”
Jeremy raised a brow but did not argue. He dipped past her and focused on the sounds of his boots against the floor, rather than everything echoing off the walls of the rooms he strode past.
The lights were off in the room she’d sent him to, but Jeremy hadn’t expected much different. He slipped his fingers past his waistband to loosen the laces of his pants, reaching the nightstand and pouring a few fingers of the open whiskey he found. Jeremy lifted the glass to his lips, knowing he’d have until morning before his mother sent the guards looking.
If she’d continued with wine served at the celebratory dinner, he’d have until the afternoon. His step-father, the prince consort, would never be the one to search for “the sunshine prince” or so he mocked. Jeremy shoved the sneering voice in his ears aside.
The floorboards creaked behind him, and Jeremy forced a sigh through his teeth as he plastered his carefree smile back into its place. He turned slowly, eyes ready to roam over whatever man she’d sent for him this time.
In a blink, Jeremy’s glass shattered against the floor and someone’s blade pressed against his throat. He didn’t bother with screaming, feeling a warm breath against his ear and the point of a knife against his back.
“New toy?” Jeremy joked, only wavering when he realized the figure pressed behind him wore a hood.
“You could say that.” His assailant, a man then, mused. “I expected more fight out of you.”
Jeremy squirmed a bit, wondering if his attacker had snuck in or if he’d finally been sold out to the Procurer’s highest bidding bounty hunter.
“If you wanted me dead, I would be.” He sighed. “You think this is the first time this has happened?” Jeremy eyed the door. “I take it we’re going out the window?”
His attacker didn’t answer and Jeremy huffed a breath, the deep inhale confirming the knife lingering on the back side of his heart. A matter of seconds later they crashed through the pane and Jeremy felt the shards knick his face and arms. He stumbled but the bounty hunter held him up, the threat of a sliced throat kept Jeremy from fighting too hard against him.
The alleyway wasn’t lit, and rats skittered across the worn ground. Jeremy tried to bite the man’s fingers as a cloth was forced into his mouth. The bounty hunter pressed his knife to the soft tissue at the bottom of his ribs, and Jeremy gave up. Blood trickled down his arm to his fingers as another blade pressed beneath his elbow, a threat as his wrists were bound in place.
The first time he’d been kidnapped he’d been away on a hunt with his brother, Bryson, and step-father, Warren. He’d spent three days in a disgusting cellar with soggy floors and spiders crawling over his skin. Even with his experience with a sword, Jeremy wasn’t stupid enough to think he could beat a man well decorated with weapons with nothing more than his own fists. He tried to count the times he’d been in a similar situation on his fingers as he was blindfolded and came to the conclusion that this was his eighth.
Ah. Jeremy silently mused as he was led around blocks twice and backtracked through alleys. You’re trying to confuse me.
It worked well enough, but by the time they reached the steps down to the docks he already had figured out where he was all over again. The texture of brick beneath his boots put them at the Southernmost port, which should’ve been emptying its crew into the city at this time of night.
Panic flashed through him then, and Jeremy threw his head backwards. He felt it connect with his kidnapper’s nose, and a sickening crunch caught in his ears. Eerily, the man did not waver. Did not even flinch as Jeremy felt blood from his nose drip into his hair.
“Stupid choice.” He taunted in Jeremy’s ear.
The ringing in Jeremy’s ears was too loud for him to hear. In that moment, the pieces began to click into place. The documents he’d seen scattered across Warren’s desk, the reason he wasn’t dead.
His last chance had flown from the window with Bryson’s engagement. They’d pay the gold to have him returned. “Eighth time’s the charm,” Warren had said. He’d be shipped off to his betrothed upon his return, no longer their problem.
Jeremy dragged his feet, the soles of his boots catching on the uneven stone as they neared the pier. He tried to trip his kidnapper, but the firm reminder of a knife to his ribs stilled him.
“Fuck.” Jeremy said, the word muffled by the strip of fabric tied around his mouth.
He heard his kidnapper’s feet on the wood of the pier, moving down and away from the streets. He was intentional as he hauled Jeremy away from the capital city and out over the water.
They stopped after about ten yards, if Jeremy’s estimate was accurate. He counted the boards beneath his feet as his heels bumped the seams between them.
“That him?” A voice called down from somewhere overhead. Still male, though laced with a different accent.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He repeated silently, trying to figure out where the water was and if he would survive the crowded marina with his wrists bound and eyes covered.
“Yeah, our little prince doesn’t have much fight in him.” His kidnapper responded, jostling Jeremy’s shoulders.
“Your nose says differently.” The new man responded. Jeremy didn’t listen for an answer as he threw his weight forwards. The bounty hunter’s loose grip let him slip through his fingers. Jeremy stumbled and felt the wood beneath him shift as he neared the edge of the pier.
In an instant, his sliver of hope that he would get to the water disappeared. A gun fired and pain shot through his leg from a wound on the side of his calf. He fell forward, hearing the crack as his knees hit wood. Instead of grabbing him around his already bound arms, his head was yanked back by his hair as the bounty hunter caught him.
“Not much fight, eh?” The voice above them taunted and he heard the man hauling him to his feet mutter a curse.
“You try that again, the next one goes through your head. Fuck the consort and his money.” The man threatened, knowing full well he’d missed as he shoved Jeremy forward.
Jeremy stilled.
He’d assumed the procurer had sold him out, but Warren? His stomach turned. Sure, the noble family his mother had wed into were known for using their money brashly. But to have Jeremy taken?
Nobody would believe him. He realized it slowly as he was moved from dock to a dinghy. The small boat was lifted from the water, and Jeremy felt his stomach fall into the water beneath them.
He felt numb as he was set aboard a tall ship. Jeremy didn't bother when they grabbed him by his arms and ignored the way his bleeding leg stained their deck. He was blind but knew the darkness that washed over him as he was brought below deck.
Jeremy was dropped to his knees as soon as they reached their destination, and he felt a new wave of blood gush from the open wound and into the wood beneath him. Taken from him, offered, it was all the same. He’d give the blood that forced him under a crown willingly, but it was always his father who had been a soldier.
He knelt in silence. His head bowed even though his eyes were blinded by the fabric in front of them. He didn’t say a word and wouldn’t have even if there had not been a gag in his mouth.
The ship rocked with the push and pull of the evening tide. It was a quiet and calming motion, like a bassinet for the wicked men who manned it.
Jeremy felt his feet go numb. He stayed there for what could have been moments or hours, listening to the rushing sound of water.
The low groan of a wooden door sounded behind him, but Jeremy did not move. He couldn’t even flinch when he felt the cool metal of a blade against his scalp.
Halves of the fabric strip that had bound his eyes fell into his lap. The heavy thud of boots making their way to his front made him blink away the darkness in the corner of his eyes. Within moments, a smaller blade laid flat against his cheek before it turned to cut away the gag in his mouth.
A sword came to rest under his chin, tilting it upwards with gentle force.
Jeremy’s eyes immediately went to the dark ink of a tattoo under the man’s eye. High up on his cheekbone, a place Jeremy had seen the one drawn dozens of times on wanted posters.
Riko Moriyama, Jeremy realized as Riko stared down at him, the long lost second son of one of the richest noble families in the kingdom. Wanted by his father and brother for a list of crimes too long to name, but always specified that he must be alive when returned.
“The Sunshine Prince.” Riko said and his voice was unfamiliar.
“In the flesh.” Jeremy tried, but his voice came out higher than he wanted as the sword moved closer to his throat.
Riko hummed as though he found it amusing.
His hair was longer than the pictures drew it and tied back into a tail at the base of his neck, though he’d been gone from home for years so growth was expected. Jeremy had heard whispers that he’d joined up with pirates. The court had always wondered how the Moriyamas had such safe trade routes on the open water. Piercings decorated his ears, and heavy chains of gold wrapped around his neck.
Riko crouched, taking a closer look at him.
“They call you the delight of the court,” Riko said, his thumb coming to press against one of the small glass cuts on Jeremy’s cheek from the window. “I wonder, is it because you’re a whore?”
He tried not to flinch, at the words or the pain. Part of him succeeded but Jeremy still felt himself pull away.
Riko chuckled, a dark smile curling at his lips. “They say you get it from your mother.”
“She is your queen.” Jeremy said, the defense coming easily to his lips. Riko dug his finger further into the gashes along Jeremy’s cheek.
Riko tutted as he stood and walked around Jeremy. Jeremy’s fists were tight, even as the bindings chafed against his skin. Riko pressed the same small knife between the pads of Jeremy’s and his palm, cutting in when he tried to clench his fist. Jeremy’s left hand fell open and a frustrated groan slipped through his teeth as Riko worked off the few golden rings he wore.
The motions repeated with Jeremy’s right hand, but Riko remained unsatisfied as he pocketed the rubies and emeralds. Jeremy watched as he slid one of the golden bands onto his middle finger, chuckling at the sight of the gold.
“These aren’t what was requested of us, so we’ll see what price they fetch in the Southern Isles.” Riko stood in front of Jeremy once again, head cocked to the side. “Where’s the signet?”
Jeremy’s jaw clenched.
Riko studied his face and Jeremy tried not to swallow when his eyes dragged lower. A low laugh slipped from the dark haired man’s lips as he caught sight of the thin gold chain peeking from the collar of Jeremy’s shirt.
He reached up and hooked the chain with a single finger. Jeremy was yanked forward with his necklace, getting too close to Riko’s face as it split into a grin.
On the end of the chain, a gold ring hung beside a gold pendant. Riko dragged his thumb over the flat face of the ring.
“Not the greatest hiding place.” He mocked. Jeremy expected him to snap the chain, but instead he was forced to bow his head again as Riko removed it with delicate patience.
Jeremy seethed silently. He could do nothing as Riko took the necklace with his grandmother’s– the late queen’s –pendant and placed it over his own head. It fell amongst his collection of other chains. His mocking smile ground at Jeremy’s patience, but Riko seemed satisfied with what he’d come to collect as he moved towards the wooden cell door.
“Proof of life is usually requested.” Riko called over his shoulder before the door swung shut behind him.
Jeremy cursed every god he’d ever known. Mostly in his head, some out loud. Whatever poor bastard was in the cell next to him joined in when they reached the god of the sea.
He scooted across the wood floor of the ship, bringing himself to lean against its curved wall. Shortly after Riko had left the cell he’d felt the boat start to move away from the dock, moving out to sea and away from Jeremy’s chances of making it home himself.
A dull, faint knocking tapped against the wood from the outside and he wondered if it was an animal of some sort. The few times he’d been on ships he’d spent most of the time above deck, or in the Royal quarters.
He spent days in that cell, unable to do much more than walk around and talk to himself. His neighbor in the next cell didn’t say much, and snored much more often than he spoke. On what Jeremy estimated to be the third night, by the timing of the meager meals he was brought, he simply stared at the ceiling of his cell and wondered which mistake had led to this being his fate.
The gentle sound of waves against the hull and his physical exhaustion began to weigh on him and while Jeremy fought against it he was lulled asleep. Not long enough to dream, but enough that he felt all of his sore muscles more keenly when he was jarred awake.
“Fire!” Somebody shouted above deck and he expected to smell fire. Instead, as Jeremy blinked sleep from his eyes, he realized that the single word had not been in fear but in command.
“Oh, fuck.” Jeremy said, and again the man in the cell next to him voiced his agreement.
“We’re gonna die here.” The stranger said, not sounding entirely disappointed.
A pang of fear swirled in Jeremy’s gut.
In the time it took for him to stumble to his feet, hands still bound behind his back, he heard the commotion of a fight underway. Metal on metal and the general buzz of men arguing over one another.
There was nobody in the underbelly of the ship besides the prisoners, as far as he could tell. Jeremy threw himself against the wooden door of his cell in hopes its ancient wood would give under the force. Instead, he felt something in his shoulder pop and pain screamed down his arm.
“Fuck-” Jeremy’s voice was cut off as he was thrown to the side. His head smacked against the wood of his cell wall too hard, and his body protested moving as he slumped against the floor.
Somewhere above deck someone screamed. It was a mixture of frustration, pain, and an emotion Jeremy couldn’t name. He heard the sound like a warning bell, hearing the rushing of water more clearly as his head became foggy.
“There’s a hole in the side.” His cell neighbor said, groaning as he too must be sitting up. “I’ve heard drowning isn’t the worst way to go.”
“We won’t die.” Jeremy said. He heard his own voice and doubted it.
Another crash, something like gunfire, went off. Jeremy was already on the ground when he was tossed further to his right. His pessimistic neighbor let out a dry chuckle as his body also hit the further wall.
“One of these times is going to set off their gunpowder stores. Blow the ship to bits.”
“We won’t die.” Jeremy repeated.
-
Jean swam in circles below the ship, waiting impatiently for the other boat to finish its job. He should’ve known Kevin would hold off, probably trying his hand at being the hero. Jean suspected it’d lead to his hand being shattered again.
He saw the flash of blue scales before Neil came fully into view off to his left.
“Soon.” He said, pointing upward. The Raven, Tetsuji’s prized boat, was taking on water. It’d sink before dawn.
It would explode sooner.
Jean almost flinched when the bright light illuminated the depths of the sea. He saw the sharks beneath them and the fish that looked invisible at night. His silver scales seemed white as the fire took hold of The Raven above them.
Neil’s eyes watched the other ship, full of his favorite pirates, as it retreated.
Flames consumed The Raven, shining in shades of orange that almost made the waves look like they burned along with it. Neil swam upwards, his gaze hungry as men started to jump into the water with the splintered wood of the boat.
Neil always had feared the animalistic tendencies that came with being merfolk less than Jean did. He saw his prey and didn’t question why he craved the blood of men. Neil grabbed the nearest fleeing pirate and killed him quickly; even as the man struggled beneath the water’s surface Neil didn’t fail to dig his teeth into his neck.
Jean swam for the next nearest pirate, surprised when he didn’t recognize Jean. His arms came up around the man’s neck, and he hauled him backwards under the surface.
He didn’t know why humans' first instinct was always to start kicking. Jean rolled his eyes, letting loose a sigh that sent bubbles through his lips and up towards the fire.
Then he lunged forward, teeth digging into the flesh of the man’s neck. He kicked again, but only once before the life trickled from him and back to the sea with his blood.
The thing with merfolk was that they didn’t eat humans. Well, some did, but they were the odd ones. The bloodthirst was more a demand of their maker, and less an actual need for sustenance. So both Jean and Neil tossed the pirates to the side as soon as they spotted who they were really waiting for.
The mission had never been about other lives. If a few of The Raven’s pirates survived the night, neither of them would care.
Neil and Jean had set out for two of them.
Tetsuji Moriyama must have jumped ship when the fire became too tall to consider salvageable. Jean would’ve recognized the man who murdered him in a pitch black room with only his sense of smell to guide him.
He lunged, tail propelling him up and through the water until he was on the man. His claws dug into Tetsuji’s shoulders, turning him in the water as they floated towards the surface.
Time seemed to slow as the man blinked his eyes open in the sea water. He recognized Jean, and that was all that mattered.
Of course, he thrashed against his hold just as much as the other man had. More so as Jean held him fast under the surface, letting him feel what it was like to drown. It’d be more poetic if he bound his legs, but Jean wanted him to bleed.
He pulled the knife he was too familiar with from the sheath Tetsuji always kept at his hip. It moved slower with the drag of water, but the pirate had still kept it clean and sharpened.
Jean watched the man’s eyes widen, and wondered if the salt water stung them. Light from the fire danced on the silver metal of the blade.
Jean lifted it to Tetsuji’s heart just as he stopped his fight against drowning and pushed. He held him as the last air slipped from his human lungs and then Jean took the knife and severed his head.
You couldn’t be brought back if your body was not whole.
He let the corpse fall down into the depths, to feed some bottom feeder. When Jean turned and looked for Neil, he found him taking his sweet time with Riko.
His blue tail had twined around Riko’s legs, holding him still as Neil leaned in to say something to him. Jean almost moved to encourage him to finish, but squirming caught his attention back near the bottom of the boat.
A figure with bound wrists was kicking their legs frantically, even as blood spilled from a wound on one of them. Jean saw a piece of wood protruding from his side as the man tried to save himself by getting to the surface.
He pitied him, for a moment. Jean watched his form go limp as he swam closer.
Jean wasn’t sure what compelled him to swim closer. He couldn’t fathom why he hauled the blonde back to the surface. He studied the human, surprised to find his chest still rising and falling.
He took care to keep the man’s head above water as he hauled him away from the burning ship and closer to the cove. Shallow water and rocks too close to the surface made his task more difficult than he intended. Without the same clear sight he had beneath the surface, Jean’s tail whacked against stone and weeds alike as he swam inland.
He’d occasionally hunted in this small patch of calm water. The reefs curling around it slowed some of the strong current and made for easy resting waters.
Only a tiny patch of sand existed near shore and Jean had to discard his tail when they finally reached the sand. He beached himself for a moment, letting the transformation take place as he lay vulnerable on his back. It took more work to haul the unconscious man with legs alone.
He left him on the beach after removing the wood in his side and attempting to bind the wound with the tatters of his shirt. Jean couldn’t fathom why he was doing it, but he made sure the man at least wouldn’t bleed out before others of his kind found him.
He only glanced over his shoulder once before diving back into the ocean, making sure the man was unconscious as his tail appeared again and he was able to breathe properly with the gills on his neck.
Jean dove down, this time keenly avoiding the rocks as he moved towards the fire on the horizon.
Neil met him almost halfway.
“Who was that?” He asked, rising to the surface to speak above the water. The roar of the fire was distant, but his voice was still a little off without the muffled space between them.
“I don’t know.” Jean answered, looking over his shoulder towards the beach. “A prisoner, of some sort.”
“Riko did not take prisoners.” Neil raised a brow.
“He was bound and injured.” Jean caught the sight of blood in Neil’s teeth as he met the other mer’s eyes. They were too blue in the dim lighting of the moon.
Neil ran his tongue over his teeth as he sensed where Jean’s eyes had drifted.
“If he survives the night, the fisherman will find him.” Jean said.
Neil rolled his eyes. “You and your kind, human heart.”
“We’re monsters, we’re not kind.” Jean narrowed his eyes on him.
Neil didn’t argue, just shook his head as he reached up to ruffle Jean’s hair. He had to bob further out of the water to reach, propelled upwards by his tail. Jean swatted his hand away.
“Go back to your pirates.” Jean sighed, looking away to spot the white sails he knew had orange accents in the daylight. “I’m sure your mate is waiting and assuming I’ve killed you because you’re such a pest.”
Neil didn’t argue and say “humans don’t mate” as he usually did. He just shrugged. “Andrew is waiting, but I wanted to check on you.”
Jean raised a brow. “And I’m the one with the human heart?” He waved a hand scattered with a dusting of silver scales towards the ship Neil called home. “Go. We’ve had our revenge, spend it with your pirates that helped us.”
“They could be yours too.” Neil said, but didn’t wait for Jean’s argument before he dived beneath the waves. Jean watched his blue scales before they were too distant to see clearly. He floated on the water’s surface until he spied the net they used to haul Neil upwards drop from the side of the ship Neil called The Fox.
He didn’t turn to face the shore again, watching the sun rise and the fire burn the last of The Raven into nothing but charred wood as it sank beneath the surface.