Chapter Text
Ever since you were a child, your father had taken care of the old lighthouse that rested high above the cove. It wasn't uncommon you'd go weeks and sometimes even months without seeing him, that is unless your mother asked you to run up baskets of food and spare blankets to him. The lighthouse was miles away and you often had to leave at the breaking of dawn if you even dreamed of making it back while the moon was still high, but you loved the journey. There was nothing you loved more than the moment when the sound of the waves crashing against rocks would roar louder with every step, and the scent of the salt drifting through the air. It never failed to make you smile, especially when you knew your father would be standing in front of the lighthouse waiting for you, often with a lamp in hand and tired smile on his weathered features. Your father was your hero - putting his life at risk just to make sure sailors could return to their own families safely, never resting day or night and constantly monitoring the sea.
But as you continued to grow and learn more about the world, you could no longer turn a blind eye to the morbidity around you. But then Father had gotten sick - pneumonia, the doctor later told your mother - and soon it was her job to be the keeper of the lighthouse. Often, you were left to take care of the daily chores - cleaning the house, making dinner with what was available, mending the clothes and blankets you could afford from the local markets - and inevitably, watching over your father as he would march proudly around the house, masking his coughs and wheezes. You knew that it was only time that could heal him, and yet, there was little hope you could find. And so, you set to work trying your best to make life easier for both him and your mother, and you could only look at the moon with her stars and wish for better days ahead.
Inevitably, Father passed with the changing seasons, leaving with the harsh winters and greeting the healing of spring on his way. Your poor Mother was heartbroken and there was little you could do to comfort her, merely continuing on with the daily chores and hoping to ease her burden just the slightest. Soon - too soon it seemed, at least for you - she had approached you, asking and begging that you take over the care of the lighthouse, she'd claimed herself far too old and frail to continue the work but she couldn't bare the thought of someone else looking after something your father loved so dearly. You could only sigh and agree with a smile, assuring her that after your next trip to market that you would stock and prepare for the journey, and shoulder the generational duty of looking after the lighthouse that guarded the shores of the cove.
-
It had officially been three years since you'd taken on the care of the lighthouse, two since the passing of your mother, and one since you'd first discovered the secrets of the cove. 'Discovered', perhaps, wasn't exactly the correct word to use, but it was the closest you could think of. You still remembered the night in question as if it'd happened hours ago, and you still had the scars to remind yourself. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that this was perhaps why your mother was so persistent it was you who took on the lighthouse and not some random stranger. As you'd come to learn - albeit, through bits and pieces -, it seemed your family had a deep history with the creatures of the cove. The tales you'd overheard in passing from sailors and fishers alike now had more weight than they did before. Merfolk were real, and as you glanced down at your scarred arms and legs, they were also dangerous.
Lightly shaking your head, you closed your eyes with a sigh and allowed your head to fall slightly forward as the sound of rain registered. You'd looked at the sky earlier, while checking your cast-out nets for fish, and knew upon sight that a nasty storm was on its way. In your rush to get inside and get the fish cooked and prepared for the long night ahead, you failed to collect the fishing nets, leaving them to tangle themselves among the rocks, jagged and eroded from the years of waves beating against them. It was a mistake you'd regret in hindsight, but your mind had been far too frazzled - running wild as you tried your best to get everything in order. And now, as you grabbed the old, beaten lamp you remembered so distinctly in the grasp of your fathers hand, it never even once crossed your mind as you marched up the winding steps, not slowing your pace until you stood before the light.
A very long night was ahead of you, and oh, if only you knew what awaited you as the moon rose to claim the sky.
-
The storm had finally settled, drifting past the cove and leaving it visible to any passing ships or travelers. It was only when you had descended the steps, setting the old lamp aside and immediately collecting up all of your old blankets, that you remembered you hadn't collected the fish nets. Cursing at yourself for being such a fool, you lunged forward to grab the lamp before stumbling out the door and then making your way to your previous fishing spot. Continuing to hiss and huff at yourself as the cold winds of night whipped across your cheeks, you only furrowed your eyebrows and marched with even more determination. Your poor father was probably yelling at you from his grave at this mistake - you were raised better than to leave such things for the creatures of the sea to tangle themselves. It was the first rule he'd taught you about fishing, and of course, it was the first rule you'd broken - unintentionally or not.
Jagged rocks soon came into view, and with the help of your faithful lamp, you could just barely make out the outline of the ropes now tangled around them. But what you hadn't been expecting was another one of those creatures to be trapped within them. Your steps slowed and eventually came to a stop as you tried to take in as many details as possible, honestly wanting nothing to do with them but not wanting to leave them to fates whims. Placing your lamp at your feet, you set to work trying to untangle the thick ropes without disturbing the creature whose gaze was now on you. And you, in all of your stupid and foolish glory, made the mistake of looking up.
The creature was beautiful, in a twisted sort of way. Pale eyes glowered up at you and needle-esque teeth revealed by pulled lips, what you could make out as fins were flared and twitching, the creature still thrashing this way and that, struggling to free itself without your help. As you looked at those teeth, you could feel phantom aches radiate from the scars and you even had to momentarily check to make sure you weren't bleeding, the movements not going un-noticed by your companion. Shaking your head and heaving a sigh, you quickly snagged the knife you kept holstered to your belt, whispering hisses of anger and regret as you set to work sawing away at them, dragging them off of the creature as they gave way to the blade. As painstakingly boring (or expensive) it would be to replace the net, it was nothing in comparison to another living beings freedom.
When the last strand of net fell from it's flesh, the creatures tail whipped and wriggled as it struggled to crawl over the rocks and away from you - back to the safety and coverage of the roaring waves. You could only watch in awe as it easily navigated the rocky surface, its clawed hands propelling its body forward until the last tips of its tail disappeared into the waves. Slowly backing away until you were bathed in the safety of your fathers old lamp, you never once let your gaze leave the waves, subconsciously searching for that pale gaze. But another gust of wind was quick to have you reaching down for the light and returning to the relatively warmer safety of the lighthouse, unaware of the eyes that followed from behind jagged rocks, only disappearing back underneath the waves when the soft light finally faded from view.
-
A week had passed since you saw the creature, and everything was blurry in your minds eye except for that piercing gaze. Never in your life could you recall seeing such quiet hatred, not even when your poor teacher was at her wits end with the class, not even when the butcher would swear worse than the sailors when the local town strays somehow managed to snag precious meats from his stall. It was a thought that haunted you as you spent your days trying to salvage what you could of your old fish net, and the thoughts didn't leave as you monitored the light or meticulously cleaned the bottom-level of the lighthouse. And as you stood at the top of what seemed to be a tower reaching for the night sky, you couldn't help but let your eyes fall to the waves crashing below, hoping against hope that you'd catch sight of the beautiful creature. But it seemed that fate had other plans in mind.
-
For an entire month, you could feel eyes watching you every time you stepped foot outside of the lighthouse. The stare never felt malicious, more like someone just investigating something boredly, but not once did you ever feel like you were actively in danger. Somewhere deep in your heart, you knew you longed to see the creature again, and you'd even laughed at yourself for thinking the gaze could be those same eyes that haunted you. But as you sat among the rocks closer to shore, you couldn't help but let your gaze drift past the waves as you contemplated what else your parents had hidden from you, and not once did you notice the creature gradually creeping closer. A mistake that would undeniably scare a century off of your lifespan.
One moment you were simply contemplating the secrets of the lighthouse and the next you were on your back with the creature looming over you. You couldn't even yelp in surprise before the creature gave a warning hiss. You took this chance to observe it, trying your best to avoid the very intense stare now directed completely at your face. A curtain of black hair dipped into your face, managing to block out everything but the creatures face, and the more you took in the features you could make out, the more it cemented this was perhaps the most beautiful being you'd ever laid eyes on. But the thing that held your attention the most were those pale eyes, and how they also seemed to study you with curiosity. And as the creature shifted and moved - as if making itself comfortable - you took the chance to study its lower-half. Thinking back to all of the fish species your father had told you about, this one seemed to match almost perfectly with a giant male moray.
The creature shifted yet again, the mucus on its- no, his skin was not a pleasant sensation against your clothes, but you didn't dare complain, not when those needle-esque teeth were still bared in warning. You could only take in his appearance as his tail dragged slightly behind him, slightly leaning to the left as it was no longer supported by water surrounding it, and oh, was he absolutely stunning. His clawed hands were the same shade of obsidian as his tail, fading into the pale complexion his 'human' half sported at the elbows, small patches of scales splattered here-and-there like patches. That curtain of black hair now framed his face perfectly, almost hiding the patches of scales he sported on both cheeks. They even seemed to trail down his chin and covered the entirety of his neck. And the way the now setting sun seemed to make him glow? Absolutely divine.
Briefly, you wondered if you could apply what you knew of moray behavior to the creature now sitting across from you, but that thought was quickly discarded as you took notice how he mimicked human mannerisms - and, you noticed with mild alarm - he seemed to be mimicking you in particular. You really were correct in assuming the watchful gaze belonged to him. What a thought. The two of you continued to merely observe each other before his fins bristled one final time, another hiss leaving him.
"Stay away from cove, from home."
And with that, he disappeared back beneath the waves, but not before leaving you absolutely stunned and glued to the rocky ground underneath you.
-
Later that night, as you prepared yourself for bed, you thought of his words. What did he mean, 'stay away from the cove'? Was the cove also his home? Did he merely tolerate you being there until the fish net fiasco? It was plausible, and frankly, you couldn't really blame him. But also, you had to ignore his wishes in favor of your mothers. Your parents quite literally gave their lives to take care of this lighthouse, and some sailors legend brought to life wasn't going to turn you away. You'd either make peace with him or die trying, but one thing was for absolute sure - you weren't leaving the care of this lighthouse without a fight.