Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were all trapped in Tursgud’s creepy shipwreck lair, and it took the Heron’s about one minute to come up with a plan.

The plan would have gone perfectly, and it did, until it was too late to turn back.

The Herons knocked out or destroyed Tursgud’s army, they’re all fine, but.

Jesper can’t swim. They’re so far underwater there’s nothing they can do

Jesper doesn’t let them catch on until almost everyone is out,

“I’ll stay behind and make sure it’s safe” he said, and they believed him,

“We’ll all get out” he said. it’s a good thing he learned how to lie so easily, isn’t it, he thinks.

In the end, it is better this way, he thinks,

Everyone else will be safe, Stefan will be safe

And if he doesn’t get out, does it matter anyway?

Everyone else was above the surface when Hal did a roll-call,

“Stig?” “here!”

“Edvin?” “here”

“Lydia?” “here.”

And so on until

“Stefan?” silence…

Chapter Text

One thing you should know about Sirens is that, along with sharper teeth, fins, and fucking tails, one way they differ from humans is their eyesight.

Two things about siren eyes is that they can both see underwater clearly, and, they can see in the dark.

It was the dead of night when the Herons escaped, and while Hal took the roll-call, spending precious time making sure the crew was okay, Stefan merely looked around and noticed…

Jesper was missing.

In his worry, a half-forgotten memory arose:

He was talking to Jesper, sitting at the docks, smiling.

This wasn’t uncommon, the two often hung out, talking about anything and everything.

That day, they talked about swimming.

Stefan remembers him saying, “I’m not good at swimming. I can do it, barely, but I panic and I forget what to do.”

Stefan remembers what he promised Jesper that day;

He remembers smiling as he told him, “that’s alright, you’ll have me to save you.”

I promised, I promised, I promised, I promised him.

That is what Stefan thinks as he dives, down, down, down to Tursgud’s lair.

Frantically, he searches, checking every corner of the shipwreck, until he notices a strand of hair.

He recognises this hair, so dark, silky and smooth, he loved playing with it, he’d spend hours braiding it as he laughed and joked and lived, but right now, he sees the body of his boyfriend, lying just outside the air bubble.

And.

Jesper is not breathing.

Stefan would cry, he thinks. maybe he is. he doesn’t know.

Perhaps his tears are mixing with the salty water he calls home.

But it isn’t his home, not really, because his home is,

His home is,

His home is with his crew, with Hal and Stig and Edvin and Ulf and Wulf and Ingvar and Lydia and Thorn and Jesper

Speaking of the crew, they aren’t safe either.

Chapter Text

No one is safe, because while Stefan takes Jesper’s body, preparing to swim to the surface with news of death, the Herons, using pieces of driftwood to stay afloat, are looking at the land not that far away, an abandoned town they were passing through before Tursgud kidnapped them.

Or, the town that is too far away for the exhausted, worried crew to swim to, but that doesn’t matter because they will wait to see if Stefan and Jesper come back.

They call for them, crying out, “Stefan, Jesper, where are you?” But in their concern, they forgot that, really, it is not safe to shout for people in such a hostile night.

Because they did not take out all of Tursgud’s army.

Not really.

There are creatures in the night, the zombies that they did not manage to destroy, the reinforcement’s Tursgud summoned, and they hear them better than Jesper ever will.

As Stefan swims to the surface, monsters surround the herons.

And all at once—

Stefan arrives, lifting Jesper up to a floating log and crying, his tears audible and the Herons know.

They have never lost anyone like this, and in the shock of the moment, Hal’s yell as he is hit over the head with a club, knocked unconscious as he slips off his driftwood piece and falls down, down into the unforgiving depths of the sea. It barely registers, but when it does, they cannot do anything about it. Stefan is the only one who reacts in time, diving underwater as the screams of his crew fade away into silence, dead silence.

Because they are, they’re all, all dead.

The herons went down fighting, but in the state of grief, exhaustion and panic they were in, they weren’t up to their usual standards, and only took down a few of the enemies before their bodies sank to the bottom of the ocean, found a couple hours later by Stefan.

Who had hidden away from the attack, finding a place to hide among the coral, green scales blending in with the algae.

After the zombies have gone, satisfied with their success, leaving to bury the dead from the Heron’s escape, Stefan comes out, and gathers up the bodies of his crew, his family, the people he called home.

And in his grief, he remembers an old legend his mother used to tell him, about his origins, tales of sirens who drowned sailors and.

Sometimes.

Brought them to life.

But what did they do? he searches his memory, and finds the answer.

It is what sirens do, after all.

Sing.

An old song, passed down through generations, and he is not sure if it will work.

He’s only half-siren, after all.

Perhaps he cannot use this magic.

Perhaps he will try and it will be all for nought.

Perhaps they will be dead and stay dead and nothing will change.

But maybe, just maybe, it’ll work.

And so, calling upon the blood that flows through his veins, the ache in his bones that always beckons him to sing, he does.

He sings for his crew,

He sings for his lover,

He sings for his home,

He sings because it is the only thing that he can do

He sings to keep his hope alive.

He sing and his voice is filled with indescribable things, like summer days and sitting on the docks, like Edvin’s calm voice, like Hal’s leadership as he does whatever he must for the crew, like Stig’s bravery, like Ingvar’s strength that is not only physical, like Ulf and Wulf arguing but not meaning a word of it, like Lydia’s fierce passion, like Thorn’s determination, like Jesper’s jokes.

The only way I can describe it is…

Love.

As the song fades out, he moves them to one of Tursgud’s air pockets, and Stefan sits down and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until, at last,

Is that a twitch in Stig’s arm?

Does Hal blink?

Are they alive?

Is Jesper?

He only knows for sure when Lydia sits up, coughing up water, looking around suspiciously.

And Ulf groans and says, “that was the worst,” latching on to Wulf, who is sitting up too, as he vomits all over the floor— or the ruined ship deck that passes for a floor.

And Hal crinkles his nose at the mess.

As they all wake up, Jesper looks around, tensed, before his gaze lands on Stefan, and relaxes, softening as Stefan walks over and hugs him.

After they laugh, and rejoice in the life they have again, and Stefan explains what happened, Edvin says, “let’s leave, and never come back here again.”

And as Hal takes the first step, always the leader, his teeth sharpen, and his ears lengthen into gills, and his lower body starts to shimmer with scales, and his legs become a tail,

Stefan laughs, in shock and relief, looking sheepish.

“Uh, Hal, I might’ve forgotten something when I brought everyone back to life…”