Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Champion this, Champion that, you keep your hands off my brother!” 

Gillion idly tread water in the corner of the room, picking at the freshly healed scar on his arm. He didn’t understand why Edyn was so upset over it. He got scratches all the time, they were always healed eventually. 

The older, decorated triton shook their head at his sister. Edyn was particularly angry today- the pockmarked fins on the side of her head flared like a warning sail and her eyes were narrowed into barely visible slits. Her tail swished from side to side, keeping her at eye level with the Elder who stood with a dignified grace.

“I swear to the gods, he needs a break! He’s been at this for-” Edyn shot a searching glance towards Gillion who could only shrug. He didn't know. He left his room when he woke up, and now he was here. Hours at the least, but that wasn’t anything new. He was the Champion of the Undersea, this was to be expected. Besides, he could just heal himself again. 

(And again, and again, and again.) 

Gillion shook the traitorous thoughts out of his head and started listening to the actual argument. The elder- the one that was usually here to spar with him, with turquoise skin and jewels, all lavish gold- sighed. “Edyn, I understand your anger.”

She fumed. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when she came into the palace on her brother’s birthday and found him puffy eyed and practically dead in the water, but still training , still fighting like his life depended on it. Against a fully grown adult, no less. “If you understand why I’m fucking pissed- ” 

Gillion winced obviously at her cursing. 

“-then you’ll let him come home for the rest of his birthday. He’s taking a week off.” 

The water seemed colder around Gillion, like a sinking chill had set into the brine and turned his bones to ice. His talons curled into the smoothed coral floor, and he tried to ground himself in all the ridges. Edyn’s words left no room for negotiation. Does that mean I’m going home? He thought, he dared to hope. 

“You, child, act above your stature.” The elder strode past, until he was just behind Gillion. His shadow loomed, shaky and distorted, but there nonetheless. “You have no say in this, none of us do. We only do what the prophecy says.” 

“That’s funny.” Edyn spat, baring her teeth. “I don’t remember the prophecy saying that you had to run your ‘little Champion ’ into the ground. That’s my brother- or do you just see him as a little line of text, eh?” 

(A hero, born of moonlight, storm and sea-) 

Gillion had shrunk into himself further, into the cold water of his mentor's shadow. He had noticed, in his time here, that The Elders never swam- only walked on the floor, like the people from The Oversea. It was unnerving, almost ghostly. A show of power, some said, they make themselves vulnerable to prove they have no fear. Others theorized that perhaps they couldn’t swim anymore. But Gillion spent enough time with them, and he’d made his assumptions. Laziness. The very thing they condemned him for. 

“We only try to prepare him. You are a distraction to his training, and by extension to the very prophecy. To the undersea.” The elder stepped closer to Edyn who was still furiously treading water to stay at eye level. “I advise you leave, if you know what’s good for you.” 

Gillion’s jaw tightened. Would they hurt Edyn? 

He wanted to speak, but the water weighed heavy on his throat and his gills, thickening in his lungs. The whalebone sword taunted him from where it lay on the floor, still stained inky black with triton blood. Edyn hadn’t noticed it yet.

Gillion squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the imagery of his sister, impaled and floating lifelessly out of his head. 

“I advise you to keep your hands off my brother! He’s clearly tired, look at him.” Edyn said. Her tone was wavering a bit- closer to begging, now.

“Is that true, Champion?” The elder asked. 

Gillion opened his mouth to speak but faltered, noticing Edyn’s fins pinned against her head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so mad. “ That’s not his name.” She hissed, jutting her chin up into the elder’s face. 

Gillion turned his face down to the floor. He wanted to curl up into a shell like a hermit crab, he didn't want to be here anymore . But what could he do? The elders wanted him here, Edyn wanted him home. Where do I want to be? 

“Perhaps not, but it’s his title. Something you never earned, you bottomfeeding scum . You’re lucky that Gillion here is at least worth something.” The elder snapped, an unbecoming rage flashing across his face. The golden jewels hanging on his ears swayed with the force that he turned his head, snapping bright yellow eyes towards Edyn. 

Eyes like an angel, Gillion thought, or maybe an anglerfish . 

Edyn reeled back as if struck by his words. She glanced towards him with a pleading expression. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but he stood tall regardless, keeping his face at what he hoped was a reassuring neutral. 

“Uhm-” He started. Both sets of eyes stared back at him. He swished his tail back and forth anxiously. “I think… I think that I’d like to go home with Edyn.”

“Just for my birthday!” He clarified. “I’ll come back.” 

Oh, gods, please don’t kill me . 

The elder took a step back from Edyn, composing himself. He stared down at the two children before him and the look of disdain returned. He was not the best man to be working with kids, and yet here he was. 

“Edyn.” The elder said calmly, hands joining together on his chest in a gesture almost like prayer. “Leave us. We’ll discuss the logistics behind this.” 

Gilion’s heart leapt to his throat. It had been over a year since he’d been recognized as the Chosen One, and he’d been here ever since. Which was… it was great, don’t get him wrong. The palace was full of grand spiraling towers and staircases and sat at the highest shelf of the trench. Light was able to filter through stained glass windows on the ceiling and portholes on the sides of the palace walls allowed for easy travel between and around all the buildings. 

It was lavish, it was beautiful- but he also wanted to go home. He dipped his head in thanks.

Edyn, don’t fight him on this, PLEASE. 

To his relief his sister didn’t. Edyn pursed her lips and swam to the door with a powerful swoosh of her tail, muttering something in Common that Gillion couldn’t quite make out. Once she cleared the door, the elder sighed heavily.

“Gillion.” The elder said. Primordial was a difficult language to make soft, but he managed, it felt good to hear his name- but still, it was pitying and patronizing all in one.

Gillion turned, raising his gaze to the elder’s chin. He didn’t want to see those fiery anglerfish eyes- he couldn't afford to be baited, not right now. “Yes?”

“Your sister is… interesting.”

A problem, you mean . Gillion thought. He bit his tongue. 

The elder knelt down, an almost fatherly sternness to his gaze, long trailing clothes billowing out behind him. Even on a knee, he felt much taller than Gillion. Something about his presence did that, even now, when he wasn’t drilling Gillion like he was a one-man army about to face the end of the world. The magically healed scars on his chest itched.

When it became clear that the elder was expecting an answer, Gillion nodded slowly. “She’s uh- yes. Interesting. So about the… going home?”

The warm, parental energy vanished in an instant, the cold brine returning. “You’re not. It was clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer, someone will come deal with her soon- she’ll just be taken back home, don’t worry, Champion. We wouldn’t kill someone so important to you.” 

But you would kill.

It’s not possible for triton’s to cry so Gillion took a heavy breath instead. “So I’m not going home.” 

“Not yet.” The elder assured him. He strode across the coral floor, the clicks of his sandals on the coral reverberating even through the water. “Eventually. You must be patient with us- and the prophecy.” 

Gillion shuddered slightly. “I am patient. I have been.”

“So don’t listen to your sister.”

“I’m not. I didn’t want her to come.” Gillion blurted out, and oh , that felt wrong. It was technically true- he loved seeing Edyn and he loved the way she stood up for him, but it only made things more difficult for both of them. It wasn’t any better, the way she saw him. Champion. Brother. Both titles should’ve felt good, but…”

“And yet she came.” The elder mused, picking up Gillion’s sword from the ground. 

Gillion was quiet for a second. “I didn’t invite her here, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s always been big on birthdays, I was going to send her a letter but I ran out of time and-”

The elder held up one weathered hand and Gillion snapped his jaw shut. “She is an obstacle for you.” 

It wasn’t a question, so Gillion didn’t respond. The elder nonchalantly ran the blade over his long shawl, cleaning the blood off until it was a pristine white once more. “She is not to be allowed to visit any longer.” 

“But-”

“That’s final. Champion’s do not need others, your reliance is a burden and she is a problem.” The elder reached out, as if to hand the sword back, but he was still holding the hilt. His next few words were barely a hiss.  “I am doing you a favor by allowing her to live. Don’t make me regret this.” 

I thought you wouldn’t kill someone important to me . Gillion didn’t say a word, only nodding. He wasn’t sure what the older triton wanted- he stared at his sword with wide eyes, waiting for the elder to drop it, or begin attacking, or do something , but he only waited. They were locked in some kind of awkward staring match, full of a strange tension that Gillion didn’t understand.

The flat edge of the blade reflected the few precious rays of sunlight that rippled down to this layer of the trench, near blinding to his sensitive eyes. 

The elder bared his teeth. “Take it.” 

Gillion stared up at his face with wide, owlish eyes. His hands trembled. “Take it?” He whispered.

The elder nodded. 

Gillion swallowed thickly. His gills stung, his head spun. He’d already lost a lot of blood training today- probably why Edyn had been so alarmed- but regardless. He had to do this. He reached forward and grabbed the blade of his sword, trying his hardest to avoid gripping too hard- then the elder let go of the hilt. Instinctively, his hand tightened to keep the sword up. 

He gasped as the sword cut into his palm. He dropped it and clutched his hand to his chest. Ow, ow, ow- 

Gillion looked up through the red mist water towards the older triton for any hint of sympathy, but only found the usual cold apathetic expression. He wondered if Edyn was still outside. If she could taste the blood like he could. 

The elder’s anglerfish eyes lured like an open hand, one that Gillion knows better than to take. He shuddered in on himself, squeezing his sliced palm so tight it hurts. Misty water filled his nostrils, stinging at his eyes. 

The elder’s next words are one’s that do not come as a surprise: 

“Heal yourself.” He spat, kicking the sword through the water. It sat at his feet like an omen.

Gillion tried to calm his breathing, and tried to relax. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted copper and his hand began to glow a brilliant blue. He quickly clasped them together, kneeling as cool relief swept over him. He watched in an admiring horror as the wounds sealed themselves into neat silver slivers. The only remnant of his pain was his flared fins and the blood in the water.

“We’ll be back tomorrow.” The elder said in a clipped voice. He left Gillion to a darkening arena and his own thoughts.

Tritons can’t cry, but Gillion pretty close that night.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that Chip wanted everyone to know, it was that he never backed down from a fight.

Now, of course, that wasn’t true. He ran from half the arguments he started and much preferred to use underhanded tricks and scams to get his way. He’d wiggle his way out of most conflicts with a bit of charm and a heaping spoonful of instinct, to the frustration of the people who had to put up with him. 

Unfortunately for Chip, not everyone was as talented in the art of being a bastard. 

“It’s okay! Just breathe! You’ll be fine. ” Chip said, drawing out the last syllable of the word. 

The boy in front of him was small. They were likely around the same age but despite this, the stocky human only came up to his chin- maybe even his shoulder. He was curled against the sheet metal on the outside of the warehouse, clutching his leather bracers and hyperventilating. As one does. 

The boy didn’t believe him. He stared warily up at Chip, a deep distrust rooted in his familiar face. “Just- go away, I can’t-”

“ Pequeño. ” Chip interrupted. He braced his hands on Queño’s shoulders. He could feel the thick leather just underneath his deceptively thin blue shirt. Good. He thought. Paranoia pays off with people like Rueben.  

He refocused his attention on the boy who had managed to curl even further against the rusty warehouse wall. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re gonna be fine, we just need to get you away from here, c’mon, get up-”  

Queño stumbled as Chip dragged him to his feet, gripping the boy's hand. He chewed the inside of his lip, judging his options. He ran often, for better or worse, from either the local law enforcement or from the gang themselves, when things got too violent for him. He knew all the ways in and out of their gang’s home base. His mouth soured. Not my gang. This is temporary. 

The things he’d done said otherwise. Hell, his name said otherwise. Nobody escaped Reuben’s habit of nicknames, Chip was just lucky enough to have one already- others weren’t so lucky. Pequeño, a prime example of that. Chip didn’t even know his friend’s real name. Pequeño didn’t either.

Chip turned to Queño, cursing himself for his moment of delay. “Can you climb?”

“Not well.” The boy admitted. 

Chip swore again, that time out loud, and turned around. They had to take the long way through town. There were a few back alley paths that he could take to cut down the time or get the boy down to the docks without being spotted, but he couldn’t guarantee Pequeño’s ability to make it through those paths, especially in the more…acrobatic sections. 

Skullslice Port was a maze if you didn’t know how to manage it, and a labyrinth if you did. At least in a maze there’s no minotaur around every corner.  Chip pulled Queño around a corner and into the sidestreets. He peered around the brick edge but caught no sight of Reuben or their other gang members. 

The city streets at this time of evening were busy, but not crowded. Enough people to blend into but not enough that navigation was difficult. Skullslice was full of ragged boys and strays like them, either rival gangs or kids too weak to be accepted into any group. Fishmongers and people at local stands had long since given up marketing towards them, only shooting distrusting gazes and protectively watching their goods. The smell permeated regardless. Salt, seabrine, and the constant scent of copper blood.  

Chip dropped Queño's sweaty hand- to both of their relief- and started to hash out a plan, stirring the rusty cogs of his brain. “Okay. So, you get to the pier, right? And then you find a ship. No white sails, that’s navy, go black sails- but no Jolly Rogers either. Pirates are too perceptive, they’ll find a stowaway like you.”

Queño nodded frantically, a flush rising in his cheeks, either from the run or the tears that pricked painfully at his eyes, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to be a stowaway, he didn’t want to leave. Regardless. He listened. 

Chip sighed, a long, hearty sigh. He looked so tired. Dark circles hung deep beneath his rosewood eyes. I’m not going to be the one to say anything , Queño thought. Won’t help either of us .

“Reuben doesn’t hunt down deserters once you're out of Skullslice. You’ll be safe on the waters, Pequeño.” Chip said. His foot tapped against the cobblestone road and his back pressed awkwardly against the wall of the too small space. It felt cramped, and this always felt wrong. He would do anything for the people he ran with- they were basically his family at this point- but the knowledge that he would inevitably have to lie to Reuben sat like a rock in his stomach. 

Chip tore himself from his thoughts. He couldn’t get like this now, he had to keep going. “Go. A lot of ships leave at sundown. Catch one of those, bud.” 

He patted Queño on the back again. He still looked nervous- his mouth gaped once or twice, he tried to say something but ultimately decided on just an affirmative nod. 

Queño sprinted out of the alleyway into the street, huffing and puffing and skidding on pebbles. Chip knocked his head against the brick wall and exhaled the long breath of fish scented air he’d been holding, oblivious to the danger he’d just set both of them in. 

He sat there for a few minutes until he thought the coast would be clear. He wasn’t quite sure what the kid had done to deserve Reuben’s wrath, but he trusted Pequeño like a brother. And he, unlike Reuben, didn’t intend to betray a brother. 

Chip crept out into the main street. A dark haze of sunset had settled nicely onto the streets and he walked back towards the warehouse, comfortable in his decisions. Hopefully they haven’t found more rum, Chip thought. I don’t want to deal with a DRUNK Reuben on top of this.  

Unbeknownst to him, two gangly teenagers stalked behind him like a pack of hyenas. One signaled to the other and they split off, flanking the boy with brown hair as he walked confidently through the streets. 

Chip took a moment to fix his bandana and knocked a few times on the metal door. The hollow sound reverberated much louder than he thought it would, and he winced. No response. He knocked again. “REUBEN! I know I forgot the password, but-” 

“ Chip. ” 

Chip whirled around. Reuben stood before him. An open leather vest revealed his fresh tattoos, sprawling across his chest with edges red and angry. His hair was in a messy braid, strands pulled out and sticking to his clammy face. His hands were curled into fists- or well, the left one was. The other loosely clutched a bottle of tequila. 

What remained of it.

Coming up the streets from the pier were a few more people who Chip recognized from Reuben’s inner circle. One slid down a gutter and landed squarely on the ground next to them. Chip cursed again.

“Hey, Reuben!” Chip said, drawing out the ‘y’. He tried to loosen his body language, sinking into the familiar patterns he knew would make people like him, or at least be less inclined to hurt him. Like a wounded puppy. “You’re out late tonight, huh?” 

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”

Shit. Chip thought. That's not good.

Chip laughed, his attempt at diffusing the tension only riling up the gang further. “Ah, about that-”

“Shut up.” Reuben hissed. He shoved the half-drunk bottle into the chest of a tiefling boy standing near to him and took a step closer, forcing Chip to retreat against the shut door of the warehouse. “I know where you were.” 

“In town, I know, I shouldn’t have been. You told me not to stay out when you weren’t here. That’s my bad I’ll- I’ll do better.” 

Reuben wasn’t falling for any of Chip’s bullshit. His jaw was set, his eyes fiery. Chip wanted to wilt beneath that disappointed gaze, to crumble beneath it and apologize for every mistake he’d ever made. Coincidentally, Chip also happened to have severe issues when it came to parental figures. 

 “Is that all?”  Reuben asked. His hand hovered over the curved sword at his belt. The motion was subtle but… there. He was trying to send a message, and it was working. “Be honest. That’s what families do.” 

Chip froze. I can’t say no. 

“...yes. That’s all. I don’t know what you’re expecting from me, Reuben, I don’t…” 

He trailed off, meeting the dark brown eyes and flushed cheeks of the boy before him. The tiefling teenager dug their talons into Pequeño’s shoulder with a wolfish smile, much like Chip had not half an hour before. 

Queño was shoved forward in front of the gathering crowd, towards Reuben and Chip. 

A sizable number of people had surrounded the small section of alleyway. The narrow channel had people on both ends, as well as some of the gang peering over and jeering from the roofs above. Some were apprehensive, clinging backwards or whispering to their friends, but the fast majority were invested- cheering on Reuben, laughing as Queño stumbled into the clearing. 

Reuben turned to Chip again. The tiefling boy backed off into the gathering crowd. 

Chip glanced down towards Queño. I hope he’s okay. He thought. He couldn't risk asking here but… the boy didn't look visibly injured, aside from a few scratches and blooming bruises. That was strange. Reuben punished traitors heavily. 

“So,” Reuben said with a grin. There was no kindness behind the smile. “Seems you aren’t quite as loyal as I’d hoped. I’m just disappointed, more than anything.”

Chip didn’t say a word. He stared at the grime beneath his even grimier boots. 

“Chip.” Reuben said. It wasn’t a command, but he said it like one. 

With a grimace, Chip looked up.

Reuben closed the small gap between them. Chip could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the heat radiating off him in sweaty waves, despite the chill of dusk. “You know what I think? I think we only have room for one traitor in this gang.” 

Chip’s world was nothing except his next few words: 

“You want to be one of us, don’t you?” 

Queño looked up at him with wide fearful eyes. Why did he look so sca- oh. Chip realized. It all clicked into place. Reuben’s hand drifted down to his side again and he raised up his curved scimitar, the hilt pressing firmly against Chip’s chest. 

“Take it.” Reuben growled in a tone that left no room for negotiation. 

Across the way, the tiefling shoved a dagger into Queño’s open palms, whispering words of advice and shooting wary glances towards Reuben and Chip. He had stake in this, stakes that were irrelevant to Chip. 

Drunken men and boys alike raised a wild cheer as Chip shakily took the sword. The hilt felt too big and the curve of the blade wasn’t one that he was used to, but he could adapt. 

Reuben raised his arm into the air, twining Chip’s loose fingers with his own leather gloves. Then, he patted Chip on the head. “You’ll do great, little brother. I’m rooting for you.”

The crowd parted as Reuben walked past, settling down on a seat- damn near a throne in this place- and formed into an awkward half circle around them and the wall, whooping and cheering and shouting things that Chip couldn’t hear above the blood rushing in his ears. It was a good thing he couldn’t hear them. It was nothing kind. 

“I don’t want to do this Reuben!” Chip called after him. He didn’t like being vulnerable, and most of all he didn’t like being trapped. The walls seemed to shrink around him, narrowing into the cramped circle with just him and the smaller boy. 

Queño adjusted his grip on the dagger. There was a desperate kind of fury to his gaze; one that promised only one intention behind it. Survival. 

If there was one thing that Chip wanted everyone to know, it was that he never backed down from a fight. 

He lunged forward before Queño had a chance to react and, using the curved edge of the scimitars blade, hooked the dagger out of his grasp. The metal skittered on the cobblestones and landed at the feet of the onlookers. The tiefling hurriedly tucked it in their pocket, a look of relief spreading across their face.

Mixed cheers and boos resonated in the alleyway. It hadn’t occurred to Chip that some people might pick favorites- apparently they didn't consider that this could easily be them next. A bitterness rose in his gut. 

“REUBEN!” He shouted. The man turned from where he was sitting- on a barrel near the far end of the alleyway, on the inner side of the circle. A pretty woman- one of the only in the crowd- at his side.  Irritated, Reuben turned. 

“I won, now let him go. I proved myself. He can’t win this fight” Chip grabbed a tuft of Queño’s dark hair for emphasis, shaking the poor boy like a ragdoll. Thankfully, he didn’t resist. 

The crowd was silent for a moment. Reuben stared down at Chip, then began to laugh uproariously. He had bias towards his younger brother, but not that much. The rest of the crowd began to laugh as well, jeering and booing. 

Chip leveled his breathing and threw Reuben’s sword at the man’s feet. “ I won! ” 

Reuben stared at him with eyes as sharp as steel. “Scared to draw blood?” 

“When it’s needless, yeah!” Chip shouted back. He could feel Queño’s heartbeat against him, could feel the tension wound up in the boy's body like a jackrabbit. The crowd was growing restless around them. Some people had sparked up cheap cigarettes, but other than those few starkly lit faces, the crowd had become a shadowy mob. There were no street lamps on this side of town. 

Reuben spit at the ground. “You will fight that boy, or I’ll fight you. Your choice.” 

It wasn’t a choice. Reuben would kill him, and that would be that. 

Chip turned to Queño. The boy was shaking even more now, but Chip tried not to notice that. Oh, Arlin. What would you do? How did I get myself here? 

He pushed Queño away from him in mock anger, if only to give him a chance to prepare. He rolled up his sleeves and assessed the situation as a fight for the very first time. 

His opponent wore more armor than he did. Studded leather bracers and a leather chestplate underneath his shirt, as well as steel toe boots that Chip would have to avoid. He didn’t look strong, but there was a wiry lean muscle to him that rivaled Chip’s own. 

And, to the shock of nobody except Chip, he struck first. 

Chip’s cheek stung with the force of the backhand slap. That’s going to bruise, he thought hazily. He stumbled backwards and Queño reeled too, looking at his hand with something close to shock. He recovered quickly as the sounds of cheers filled the narrow alley. 

Chip dodged another incoming punch, sliding under the outstretched arm. He twisted Queño’s elbow backwards and the boy let out a cry of pain. He pushed the joint a moment more. I can’t break this. I can’t. 

Panting, Chip dropped the limb. The crowd roared again, and, against his will, he glanced up towards Reuben. He approved. He gave Chip a gratuitous nod, the hints of a real smile playing on his lips. 

And then Chip got punched in the gut. Literally. 

He keeled over himself, folding in half. Shit. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t won yet. He looked up towards Queño, and found no satisfaction on his face, only a grim determination. 

Chip stepped a few paces backwards and baited Queño forward, closer and closer to the side of the alleyway. The boy followed recklessly, taking swing after swing into empty air- Chip dodged most of them. A few blows grazed his shoulders, but after a few more moments of weaving, he had the kid where he wanted him. 

Chip took a deep breath and jumped. He kicked against the wall and grabbed onto the overhanging gutter. Please hold . He prayed, digging his fingers into the damp rusting metal. He kicked against the wall behind him and swung forward onto his opponent. 

He had only a moment to register the fear on Queño’s face before tumbling into him feet first. He kicked as hard as he could and they fell to the ground together, locked in a dirty wrestling match, fighting like cats. All he could hear was the shouting and incessant jeers of the ground around them, he couldn’t even stop to recognize if it was in his favor or not. He could feel the pressure of a dozen gazes watching him. Some held sadness, some pity. Others didn’t. 

Queño flipped around and, with a desperate snarl, managed to press Chip’s face into the ground, thumbs digging into his already sore cheekbones. The pebbles and specks of dirt poked at the other side of his face, locking him in between two immovable forces. Chip squirmed and wriggled, thrashing around like his life depended on it.

He scrabbled at the stones, fingers searching for purchase on the slight deformities, for anything- 

Queño put even more pressure. He could hear the crowd more clearly now, shouts of “ SNAP HIS NECK!” and “THAT'S MY BOY!” ringing like a headache in his ears. 

“Just die already.” Queño said, near tears.

Chip was going to die here. The realization plowed him over like a cargo ship. He could feel the strain in his chest, building in his eyes. He was going to die here, oh god. 

His hand closed around something smooth and sharp to his left and without any hesitation he brought it up and smashed it into the side of Queño’s head. 

The hold immediately loosened. Chip sat straight up prepared to fight more, but found the boy knocked out cold on the ground beside him. Shards of glass framed his head, like a shattered mosaic. Chip dropped the neck of the bottle from his loose grip and that too, shattered on the stones. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you.” Reuben said with a chuckle. “Well there we have it- the traitor lives another day!”

Scattered applause. Chip couldn’t tear his gaze away from Queño’s still body, oozing blood across the alleys. 

“Is he …dead?” Chip hardly dared to whisper. 

Reuben knelt down next to him, pressing two fingers to the junction of Queño’s neck. “Not yet.” He said. He flicked a hand towards the kid and two of his goons walked over hesitantly, picking up the boy's limp body. 

Chip swallowed dryly, his head buzzing with the aftermath. He felt like a ghost in his body, guided by Reuben’s strong hand up from where he knelt on the ground.

“Why didn’t you just kill one of us?” Chip asked. They walked into the warehouse. 

Reuben flicked a coin towards the girl who had been sitting with him, and she made a face of disgust in response. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun, would it have? Plus- you’re one step closer to being a man now!” 

“What if I'd lost?” Chip asked. What if I’d died? 

Reuben waved a hand flippantly. “You wouldn’t have. I’m smarter than you give me credit for, boy. You’re predictable. You'd have been fine.” 

Chip sat down on a stray chair. He stared at his hands, covered in tiny scratches and bits of glass. 

Reuben turned back towards the crowd with a wide jackal grin. He took a bottle from one of the boys near him and thrust it into the air.  “How ‘bout another round!” 

Chip felt numb. 

Chapter Text

The interesting thing about spells, charms, and the like is that they are entirely unique. No two people will ever cast a spell the same way. It's nearly impossible to forget a person’s individual touch of magic, their influence crackling through the arcane.

So when Jay Ferin felt the immovable force of her father’s magic slam into her, it’s not so hard to see why she seized up. She’d been charmed by other people, sure. Simple, one word commands that she could twist and reinterpret if she kept a level head. But Jayson Ferin’s influence was… different.

Jay stared at her friends, trying to snap herself out of the fight-flight-run instincts that her father’s presence always struck in her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t open her mouth to speak, she could only stand there and wait for it to end. She felt utterly and completely frozen.

Her father’s broad hand rested on her shoulder.

Gillion lurched forward to help her, fins flared, eyes glowing with anger. Chip held him back, saying things that Jay couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in her ears. She’d felt this magic before, a few times during her childhood- whether she remembered or not didn’t matter- the feeling remained.

Her father’s voice cut through the haze like a hot knife through butter with a horrible, grating nostalgia. “-you're really going to let these pirates treat your father this way?”

Her hands curled into fists at her side. Yes, She thought, These pirates treat me better than you ever did.

“I want to believe you and I do…but I think they deserve some discipline for taking you away from your home- don’t you think?” She couldn’t see the way Jayson’s eyes smoldered, the way they glared at Gillion and Chip with a sadistic, burning anger. She couldn’t see the silent threat in the stare he gave Drey and she was lucky for that. Her world was tunnel vision- her, the two pirates in front of her, her father at her side.

Gillion bowed his head. His hair hung in front of his face like a shadowed curtain. He took off his chestplate and dropped it with a metallic clatter onto the floor. His bare shoulders were held high. Nothing in his posture betrayed the level of vulnerability he was showing.

Beside him, Chip slipped off his bandana and with it, the disguise. Bruises and gashes formed alongside his true features, and Jay winced at how beaten he looked.

When she made no move, her father’s command came again, this time direct, this time accompanied by the crush of his magic in her gut. “Discipline them, Jay.”

Her fathers magic didn’t feel like other charms. It didn’t strip away autonomy, it didn’t feel forced. It felt like a strong hand on her back, pushing her stumbling forward towards what she really wanted. Tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted to speak but her words felt like hot coals on her tongue, burning her mouth and smoking up her eyes with a bitter cloudiness.

Gillion looked up. His eyes were wrinkled with a bittersweet smile. “Jay, if you want me to let you go, you’re gonna have to do it.”

“Yeah, Jay.” Chip said thickly, trying so hard to keep a brave face that Jay saw right through.

She moved her hand towards her back, grasping at the fletching of her arrows. Her father’s fiery eyes glowed even hotter, twisting the shadows on his rage filled face. “Discipline them, now.” His words set off another flare in her stomach and she choked, closing her eyes and pulling the arrow from her quiver.

“If it is my destiny then so be it,” Gillion said softly. His shoulders were squared, his hands rested in his lap. Jay thought she saw them shake.

She walked past Jayson Ferin and the heat inside her roared, the tip of her arrow lighting with the flick of his finger. She could feel the flames surrounding her like a familiar, unwanted presence. She notched the arrow with a soft click.

Gillion closed his eyes. She fired.

Where there should be the sound of the arrow there was only Chip’s voice, breaking through the silence. “JAY!” He screamed, clutching Gillion.

One second, there wasn’t an arrow in his chest. The next, there was. The fletching had buried itself just under his sternum, square in between his ribs.

Chip caught Gillion as he canted backwards at the force of the impact. A deep, blue blood began to spread across his shirt, staining Chip’s hands as he frantically put pressure on the wound.

Gillion didn’t look up, didn’t meet her eyes. He knelt on the floor and took a few steadying breaths before speaking. When he did it was raspy. “Your choice is your own Jay, and…” His breath hitched and he slumped further on Chip. “I sincerely hope it was worth it.”

Chip sagged, suddenly carrying more of their friend’s weight than he was before. Gillion’s eyes fluttered shut with a soft smile and Jay felt a sinking, horrifying dread spread through her. The fire in her chest was stamped out by the cold ash of raw guilt.

Chip wrapped his arms around Gillion’s limp torso, dragging him into his lap. He tapped at the triton’s neck, digging two fingers into the man’s wrist with an almost pitiful desperation. When he looked at Jay with those haunted, haunted eyes she felt another hit in the gut.

There were three Ferins in the room. Chip despised all of them.

Jay- however much she wanted to, to be strong, for some residual part of her that still yearned to impress her father- couldn’t meet his gaze. She stared at the ground and her muscles locked up. Her hand shook on the grip of her bow. “You- you wanna know my secret so bad, Chip?”

She took a deep inhale, tears flowing freely down her face now. Chip looked at her without a hint of the sympathy he once held. She shuddered in on herself further. “I was using you.”

Her breath hitched. “From the beginning.”

“What do you mean? Using me?” Chip’s eyes were round and full of brimming tears yet to spill over.

Jay curled her nails into her arms. “I just- I wanted to get closer to whoever killed my sister I- I did whatever I could. I convinced the navy to let me go undercover and and- you just happened to be there.” She squinted her eyes shut. “I was just using you.”

“So all this, everything, it’s…”

“It meant nothing to me.”

Gillion’s breath hissed and sputtered in the silence. Chip clutched him closer. “I don’t believe that.”

“What?” Jay said.

“The Jay I know cares. The Jay I know would never wish this upon her friends, so I don’t believe you. Not for one second.” Chip said in a pleading tone.

Part of Jay didn’t believe him. Part of Jay thought that this was another survival tactic so Chip could weasel his way out of another bad spot, but something on his face stopped her. Her tunnel vision widened out, the haze in her mind clearing slightly. Her father’s magic writhed in her gut, but she tamped it down.

After everything, after all this, they still cared. Even now, Chip, bloodstained and clutching their best friend- nearly dead, because of her- still cared. Gillion went down with a smile on his face.

Chip looked at her with warm, tired eyes.

She clutched a hand over her mouth to keep the dozens of apologies from spilling out. She could hear her father shout curses behind her but she didn’t listen, not even when his magic twisted around her ribcaged. She willed her legs to move forward once, twice, until she was sprinting across the void of a prison cell towards her friends.

(When she fell into Chip’s arms, they were open.)

Chapter Text

In Chip and Jay’s defense, they didn’t mean to drag the man out of the ocean. 

In Gillion’s defense, he was at an emotionally turmolous point in his life and should not be held accountable for his actions. 

Yet sometimes, things happen like that. 

Gillion sat on the deck of the ship in a small puddle of salt water. They’d thought him dead, originally- near death at the very least. He had been floating near the surface of the water like a bloated corpse and honestly , they were just trying to help the poor guy, even if Chip had slight- ulterior motives.

Not greed, he had said, but it would be a SHAME to let any money go to waste, don’t you think?

Yet despite their initial interactions, they’d brought him aboard anyway. He seemed like he’d needed some kind of help. Maybe a ride to a city or something? But instead of asking for something the triton seemed content to stare at the clouds, at his hands and wait patiently before them. He was odd. 

“I’m Jay.” Jay said, “And this is Chip.”

Gillion tore his gaze away from the clouds. “Jay and Chip, I am Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep.” Gillion said with robotic certainty. Chip stuck out a hand. Gillion, grabbed the pirate’s forearm in response. “It’s good to meet you.” 

“Well, welcome aboard-” Chip drew his hand out from the octopus-like grip that Gillion had his arm in. “-Gillion.” 

“So where are you heading?” Jay glanced over to Chip at her side. His eyes were still wide, and she could practically hear his next words before he uttered them: 

“Gillion are you a mermaid ? ” He asked. Gillion blinked. 

“A what?” 

Chip waved his hands vaguely around his ears and mimed a tail. “Half fish! Half woman!” 

“I suppose?” Gillion wasn’t too sure what constituted either of those things but he nodded anyway. The human seemed enthusiastic enough that it couldn’t hurt to be polite. He’d have to get used to these strange classifications and words if he is to live away from his peo- no , he strictly told himself, as someone deeply in denial tends to do. Don’t think about that. He smiled slightly.

Jay scuffed Chip’s ear with the back of her hand. He made a strangled noise and snapped his jaw shut. “He’s a triton, idiot. ”

“Ah. Yes, that I am.” Gillion piped up, more because he felt he should than anything else. It was warm up here. The sun on the planks of the deck was warm beneath his fingers and it felt strange to be without the second skin of water he lived with. The sun would surely blister him from this proximity, without the filter of the ocean protecting him. Although strangely it wasn’t bad. The warmth felt good when he closed his eyes. 

He glanced over at the people who had brought him onto this boat. “So ah… what are you?” 

At this, Chip grinned. “Pirates! Two of the best.”

Jay, who still wasn’t really sure how she felt about pirating, said nothing. 

“Pirates?”

“Like sailors. But- different.” Chip stammered. Then, feeling the need to clarify: “A sailor is someone on a boat. Who moves it.” 

“To go places.” 

The Big Chipper was not a large boat by any means. It was a small vessel- one that only Jay could correctly identify as a schooner. It crashed into waves and threatened to capsize everytime a single roll of thunder cut the seas. It was ugly and patched up and sold to Chip at a scam price, but it was his. 

It was the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Gillion had ever seen. He ran a clawed hand down the railing of the ship, letting it catch in the small groves. “Sailors,” He mused.

Pirates.” Chip corrected. 

“Bad ones.” Jay added. 

The triton frowned, looking at them with yellow jack-o-lantern fire eyes. “You seem like excellent pirates to me.” 

Jay barked out a rough laugh. “Aren’t we the first pirates you’ve ever met?”

Chip smiled even wider. “That makes us the best ones he’s ever met.” 

Jay didn’t say anything back to that. She watched as the strange fish paced the deck. At first it seemed like restlessness, but as she watched she noticed the slight mannerisms- the way his hands reverently brushed against the handiwork. The way he squinted up at the sun and drew his lips back at the light, like a child who had never learned not to stare at the sun. The way he trusted them so blindly . 

Jay finally stood up from where she sat on the raised deck of the ship. Bits of hair and clothing stuck to her back uncomfortably as she stood, her shirt and neck entirely soaked in sweat. She leaned with a faux-casual air against the banister. “So uh- where are you heading now? Any… fishy…places…” She trailed off. 

Gillion frowned. Reluctantly, he drew his hand away from the railing of the deck. “I suppose I have places I should be.” 

He didn’t say that because it was true, but because it had been true, for the rest of his life. He’d always had places he needed to go, people to please, and now he was… adrift. Terrifyingly in control of himself.

“Yeah but do you want to be in those places?” Chip asked.

Gillion thought about that for a moment. Where should he be? Trying desperately to redeem his dignity, to fulfill his destiny the right way? Beginning for forgiveness for an attack he was justified in starting? But Gillion didn’t lie. “I suppose not. How about you two?” 

“We’ve got places.” Said Chip, who only lied a little. 

“Yeah,” Said Jay, who lied a lot more than she’d like to. “Places.” 

Gillion looked up at her hopefully with big, round, puppy dog eyes, wringing his hands in front of his chest. It was a strange juxtaposition with his almost-military stature, with the sunlight casting stark shadows on his face. He still managed to look almost… cute. “Could I, ah…” 

“Come with?” Chip finished. Strangely, he too looked hopeful. And Jay understood. She didn’t trust the triton, wasn’t even sure she liked him, but she knew she’d be sad to see him go. She held her breath. 

Gillion smiled, wrinkling the tiny scales around his eyes. “That. I don’t wish to intrude, but-” 

“Yes!” Chip said, then turned back to Jay, his face a mirror of Gillion’s puppy dog look. “If you’re okay with that, I mean.” 

Jay hesitated. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn't. She was only here for espionage. There was no logical point to getting attached to someone else. And maybe that’s why she said yes, maybe that’s why she smiled at the man and welcomed him in. Maybe it was a big fuck-you to her father. Maybe she just enjoyed making her life harder. Either way- 

She didn’t think she’d regret this.

Gillion didn't either.