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Tommy has never liked the forest.
It's wide, stretching to surround dozens upon dozens of villages. Not only that, but it's very dense. Its trees are tall and reach longingly for the sky, the bushes are prickly and snag at your clothes, the wildlife is seemingly silent until you spook them and they dart away too fast for your wide eyes to get a look at them, and the air is so fresh that it leaves Tommy's head messy and aching.
If not for any of those reasons, the rumors that surround these woods are a good reason to stay away. Whispers of cursed beings; Tales told around campfires or as warnings to misbehaving children about the inhuman things in the woods who have killed and will kill again if you stray too far.
Now, the "murderous monsters" really might be an exaggeration for mistakes or accidents that turned into tragedies for travelers or hunters that ventured into the forest, but cruelly maimed bodies found floating in streams or hanging from trees make it hard to disqualify those dark stories.
Most people choose to stay away from the forest, but Tommy didn't really have a choice. Dream (his caretaker- no, his savior) and his team of hunters had been tasked by Lord Schlatt to try and discover the riches that, like the creatures, were also rumored to be hidden somewhere within the woods. Tommy thought it was dumb to agree to such a risky task with such little evidence of what they were tasked with finding actually existing, but apparently not to Dream who had yanked him out of bed at the crack of dawn and forced him onto his favorite mare, Clara.
So now, here Tommy sat, riding even deeper into this damn forest and feeling so uneasy that he might throw up what little food he had been given by Dream. His lack of hearing (caused by a mysterious illness when he was still a happy toddler in that stupid orphanage, leaving him unable to hear and worthless to everyone but Dream, who took pity on him) didn't help. If anything, it just made him more paranoid. The gnats and bugs that flew into his sweaty face were annoying, and he was so, so thirsty. He could really use some water for both the problems but he knew better than to complain to Dream during a mission.
The last time he did that, his cheek was swollen and bruised the next morning.
But Tommy deserved it. So it's fine.
Doesn't stop him from complaining in his head though, which he did plenty of. Tommy shot a small glare (that filled him with guilt, to allow himself to look at Dream with such disrespect) towards the cloaked man. For such a trip, the lack of rest and supplies wasn't really helping matters.
Tommy jostled, startled when Dream's horse stopped and so did George's, and then everyone else's. No way! Did Dream see him look at him in such a way? Was he angry enough to stop and punish Tommy? His heart began to race but calmed down when Dream simply hopped his horse with a stern (from what Tommy could tell; Dream's words had always been more difficult for Tommy to lipread), "We're taking a quick break. If any of you are not back in three minutes, we're leaving without you."
Tommy sighed in relief, slowly getting off of Clara and tying her reigns to a tree just in case. The sun beat down on his back as he stumbled forwards, away from the group. He was lucky enough that Dream stopped, so maybe Lady Luck would be willing to help him some more.
And apparently, she was.
The lake he found was big but hidden between all the trees that Tommy had been behind just seconds before. Algae floated on the top of the blue surface, logs hugging the edges and trees leaning over its sides with drooping branches. A waterfall was standing in the distance, and Tommy swore that when he squinted from the sunlight on his face, there was an opening behind the veil of water.
If there was more time, Tommy would have swam over and checked it out, but he didn't have enough time and that meant no exploring. He knelt carefully on the rocks, leaning forwards to grab some water-
Tommy gasped as he lost balance, hands flailing to hold onto something. His left hand safely settled on a flat slab of stone, palm pressed harshly on the cool surface while his right grabbed onto a shard of rock which-
Which ripped his palm open.
Tommy leaned back, shocked. The blood from the wound on his palm sluggishly crawled down his fingers, slipping between his knuckles, dripping into the blue of the lake and making it red. He lets out a shuddering breath, eyes stuck in the red.
—
There's an intruder.
He senses it, feels it in his soul... something has disturbed his sacred home. Something metallic and meaty and frankly delicious, and gods know that he's just starving, ravenous. It twists and slides between his waters, trailing down towards the old, bloodied sands.
He pushes off of the lumps of metal and fabric that make the base of his lake, swimming upwards towards the surface, frankly quite... annoyed, to put it simply.
He peeks above the water and sees the humans across the way, trampling the brush and speaking their brutish gibberish amongst each other.
They reek of rot and he feels his insides churn.
Well, it has been a long time since someone last paid him a "visit".
It's only right he greets these rude "guests".
—
Tommy's right hand is clutched or his chest as he bends over, wincing but wary of being left behind, his left hand scooping the water up and splashing it into his face. The coolness feels wonderful against his hot, red skin and he greedily dips back in for more.
He's going to finally take a drink when the water ripples, but it's not his hand that causes it. No, he was just reaching in, so what-
He looks up when the ripples grow far more frequently, and reels back at the sight of what exactly is causing those ripples.
Dream's men, some of the roughest and toughest men in the business, were twirling wildly and running into the water. They looked like rabid animals, mouths open and eyes blown as they participate in a bizarre dance in the water. Between the men are Dream, George, and Sapnap- none of them are an exception to this tramped into the depths of the lake.
It isn't until some of the men start falling and don't get back up does Tommy feel truly terrified because the team he had just been traveling with is now pulling their weapons at each other, swinging them at each other's necks, and heads, backs, and even legs. Blood gushes out of violent, messy wounds, and too many of Dream's men fall. But nobody stops.
They just continue running into the water.
Tommy stumbles as he rushed into the water, uncaring of the water seeping into his boots or potentially infecting his injury. He jumps over logs and fallen men that Tommy takes one look at and knows that they cannot be saved, trudging as fast as he can through the water, because-
Because if Dream or Dream's closest allies die here in this damned lake, Tommy will be worthless again, and alone, and-
Tommy doesn't know what to do if he ends up alone here.
The bottom of the lake dips, and Tommy struggles to keep himself afloat, too desperate to think straight when Dream is just right there a couple of feet ahead. Tommy swims, and swims, swims, passes George's body and Sapnap's head, swims, swims past the men who are still alive but obviously falling to the wills of the lake, swims, swims-
Dream falls beneath the surface and everything stops.
Including Tommy, who just can't fucking believe it because there is no way this just fucking happened-
Something flashes in Tommy's peripheral vision and his head turns so fast his neck cracks because someone might still be alive and Tommy will have someone still. He takes one giant kick towards whoever is there but stops because there-
there's a man.
Well, they look like one, so for now Tommy will deem him a man. He's tall, startlingly so, and he has the body of a normal (albeit tall) individual, limbs lanky and body lithe. Dark curls curtain his pale face, skin practically glowing. Around his forehead is a circlet with sapphires, diamonds, and a single emerald hanging from the band and intertwining with his curls and lying flat on his face. There are dozens of bracelets around his wrists and some on his ankles, his feet bare and sparkling like snow. Rings of all sizes and with all gems cover his fingers. Hell, even his ears are pierced, precious metal and stones dripping from his ears. His torso is practically covered in jewels, shimmering metals, and riches. In fact, there's so much treasure on the man, Tommy thinks the man himself might be made of treasure and cold, twinkling metal.
Tommy has never seen someone so beautiful in his life, and he knows for a fact that there was no man like that in that in the hunting party and-
And Tommy doesn't even know if he can call this thing a "man" at all because the motherfucker is standing on the bloodied water like it's solid and sturdy.
Tommy feels his mind reel uncomfortably, skin prickling when their eyes meet, the thing's eyes so dark they look like bottomless wells, endless.
A moment passes.
The thing opens its mouth and it looks like it's screaming right at Tommy but he doesn't know for sure, because, fuck he can't hear the fucker.
Its chest heaves and its mouth closes, eyes trained right on Tommy with a gleam of something he can't quite decipher.
It opens its mouth and lets out a soundless scream (?) again, and Tommy watches, unsettled, body getting tired of treading water for so long and heart-pounding too hard against his rib cage. He moved back once, and then twice when the thing doesn't come after him and closed its mouth, hunching in on itself and tilting its head. It opens its mouth in a smaller, far more humane way, eyes staring into Tommy's very soul.
Tommy swims farther back, lips trembling like a crying toddler's but- but Tommy doesn't care because everyone is dead, there's a man-thing standing on the lake, and he doesn't understand what the fuck is going on. The man-thing sways as he pulls himself back with shaking arms, and the man-thing leans forward like it's diving towards him and Tommy-
Tommy can't help it. He really can't.
He's just so confused and scared.
He doesn't hear the noise he makes exactly, he never learned to talk and he was never taught, but he feels the way it crawls up his throat. The way it makes his lungs squeeze and his eyes burn.
The man-thing stops and stills, not even flinching as Tommy begins to paddle backward faster, bleeding hand burning in the water. He looks at the thing once more just as it sways, spins, and drops into the water.
Into the water just a few feet away from Tommy.
He turned onto his stomach, kicking and pulling against the water faster than he has in his entire life. Every splash and ripple sends his mind into overdrive, heart pounding loudly. His chest heaves and Tommy is aware of every little thing around him.
And every little thing burns.
The soiled water falls into his mouth, and Tommy feels his insides twist in something ugly and raw, spitting out what he can and pawing through the mess with heavy desperation. Something painful shoots through his entire body every time his feet accidentally kick a body or he swims past torn pieces that are entirely human. He feels sick, and so, so terrified that he can barely breathe.
He’s close to the shore when something cold grabs both his ankles and yanks.
Tommy gasps, water filling his mouth and throat as he thrashes, kicking and attempting to pull away from the force that only drags him into the lake deeper. The panic that sets into Tommy’s mind is immeasurable once his head is fully submerged, vision clouded and eyes stinging. Through the cloudiness of the water and his mind, he sees a pale face shine and inky eyes stare straight into his with something indecipherable visible in their gaze.
One hand pulls harder and Tommy falters in pain, leaving him vulnerable. Vulnerable enough for him to be pulled forwards into something that rubs against his skin uncomfortably, the creature’s hand wrapping around his waist while the other clamps down on his neck to restrain him. His head is guided into what Tommy guesses is the creature’s neck and its skin is so slimy and wet and so unnatural that his face contorts even deeper into a frown. Metal grinds against his face roughly, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries that the creature’s clothes (?) may have sliced his skin.
Water is clogging his airways, eyes searing with pain, and Tommy just wants it to stop. Something satiny drifts onto his face, something well-cared-for and twirly, a drastic contrast to the rough metal of the creature who is holding him captive; no, drowning him and the realization is terrifying.
But Tommy’s energy has been drained, and he’s helpless as his vision begins to darken to black and he stops feeling his legs and arms.
As his vision goes black, Tommy feels strong arms wrapping around his thin body in a surprisingly gentle embrace, a rumble, and the push of water around him and the creature.
—
The first thing Tommy thinks when he wakes up is that he’s on something wonderfully soft. It molds around his body, supporting his limbs that ache and his head that pounds with something fierce. Whatever it is, it is incredible, and Tommy would love to see what it is but his eyelids are too heavy to open. Not only that, but his mouth is dry with a weird taste in it, he can’t stop shaking, and his hand feels funny as if it's wrapped up.
Tommy whines (he thinks that what he does, the feeling ticklish and long in his throat) in pain as he shifts his legs, trying to regain composure because Tommy simply can’t think, his head foggy. He reaches a hand up and paws roughly at his eyes, hoping to rouse himself to a higher state of awareness.
He pauses, startled, when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls his own hand away from his face. The hand is cool, unnaturally smooth and fingers long, little portions starkly cold and distinctly metallic. Tommy doesn’t remember Dream’s hand feeling like this – hell, when did Dream ever touch him with such care?
Tommy turns further into the bed (?) but tilts his head up, eyes stuck closed and lips dry, brows furrowing. The hand envelops his, overwhelming large compared to his bony ones, and the thumb strokes over his knuckles. It’s a small gesture but it makes Tommy feel disgustingly soft.
His chest exhales and his throat releases something breathy and relieved when Dream”s (?) raises his other hand and brings his fingeritps to gently trace his skin, once, twice, before his whole hand is soothingly caressing his face. A thumb trails upwards and traces his brow, then the bridge of his nose, before finally going to his eyes. As soft as down, the older massaged his eyes, easing the ache and getting rid of any potential sleep dust. It also made his eyelids lighter and Tommy fluttered his eyes after a good few minutes of the ministrations.
Everything was so perfect.
The only problem was that it wasn’t Dream looking down at him.
No, it was the creature from before, dark curls now dry and chesnut, and those dark eyes bored into his with something terribly gooey and just plain mushy.
Everything - literally everything - came rushing back into Tommy’s memory so fast that it made him feel like he got kicked by a horse.
He pushed himself up, mind set on stumbling up and aay from the monster in front of him, but was stopped when those horrid hands grabbed him and pulled him close. Tommy struggled not only out of fear but because of the hatre he felt in his very soul at the vile actions that thing restraining him had done. Tommy had never - and he means never - heard or seen a beast that could cause that amount of pain and torture in such a quick amount of time. Whose to say Tommy wasn’t next? Maybe the thing took him to its lair to fatten him up and dine on his flesh.
Tommy jutted his elbow in the thing’s side roughly, neck straining and limbs bending as he tried his best to get away. Yet, the thing’s hold didn’t relent. In fact, it seemed to tighten and Tommy seized in fear when the thing’s hand lifted to rest in his semi-damp curls, bringing his head to rest in the space between his neck and shoulders, Tommy’s ear pressed firmly against the side of the thing’s throat.
Tommy kicked his legs out, free hand coming to yank at the thing’s locks when it’s throat rumbled strangely. He could feel it against his ear, slow and lengthy. He pauses, confused because what the actual fuck-
The thing does it again, petting down Tommy’s knotted hair and seemingly catching onto the blonde spirals’ conditions as the hand combs through his hair this time, still making the same fucking noise.
It’s annoying, and weird, confusing, and Tommy is so angry and sad and lost-
The creature doesn’t hurt him, at least right now.
And Tommy’s tired and he’s nothing again.
Dream and everyone is dead, so everything is pointless and Tommy is worthless again.
So he sits still as the creature plays with his hair and keeps fucking making noises he can’t hear, and eventually closes his eyes.
Maybe, he’ll wake up and this will all be a bad dream.
Maybe.
—
Wilbur has never met another Siren.
His Pod had abandoned him when he was young and his people were already rare due to poachers and harsh conditions. So, despite the longing of his instincts, Wilbur pushed past his desires and formed a new Pod with oddities and outcasts just like him. They made their home in this forest and they all kept their home safe from the humans who tries to hurt them – they usually leave the respectful ones alone.
But the one’s that came to his lake in the hot afternoon were not respectful.
So he did what he had to do.
He usually enjoys the thrill of the kill, the way the bodies sink and their heads roll. It is a great reward to witness their blood fall.
Yet, there had been an even bigger prize today.
A youthful thing with sweet, sunny curls and wide blue eyes had swam into the fray of his destruction and had been invincible to his Call. He had tried again, but the thing had only looked at him with those wide eyes. Taking a different approach from Calling, he had trilled a questioning thing of disbelief-inqusition-wonder-curious and to his shock the little thing had responded with a muffled, squealing sound but a sound nonetheless and-
Oh.
All Sirens learned how to communicate correctly when they were pups, and if this one wasn’t doing it right then that meant that there was a tiny Siren Pup all alone in front of him, practically begging for care.
And who was Wilbur to turn away such an adorable baby? He had been lonely after all, restless in his den, his Pod just not enough to quench his instincts desperate thirst.
And he had been longing for someone to always be there, not in their nest within treetops or in a cave sharpening knives.
The Pup had swam away, reasonably scared by such a grander Siren as Wilbur, but Wilbur had caught him and pulled him close. Rising to the surface once realizing the Pup’s gills must have been struggling, he floated on his back with the Pup resting on his front, just like every Pup should be – easy to see and protect.
Putting the Pup down in his den was such a treat, the small baby looking so right on his resting place.
And when the Pup woke up, Wilbur treated him carefully eventually pulling the restless Pup close and crooning safe-calm-protected-adorable-little-secure. The Pup had calmed after a while, head lolling and resting on Wilbur’s golden chest, understandably tired. Pups needed lots of rest after all.
Wilbur trilled something sticky, all here-safe-mine-pup-mine-mine-mine-mine.
His Pup was sick and underdeveloped, not reacting to his efforts as one should, but that was alright. Wilbur would wait as long as he needed to until his Pup understood and learned.
He titled his head down, nudging his nose in the Pup’s hair.
‘Mine’ he sang.