Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Living by the sea had always been a temptation. Grian had bitten that fruit before, had experienced the consequences of going out to sea firsthand, and yet here he was, living in a port city, the salty breeze blowing across the ocean and greeting him every morning with a whisper.

Come back.

Every morning, he would open his window and stare out at the endless blue abyss and wonder…what would happen if he went back? What if he boarded one of the many ships looking for work, what if he took the ropes back up again in his hands, what if he opened his wings and let the true ocean breeze ripple through his feathers?

Every morning, he would turn away and ignore the itch that burned through him. He wasn’t going back to the sea, not after what it took from him. 

On a bright, sunny summer day like this, the harbor was packed with ships of all shapes and sizes. There were full-rigged ships and outriggers, baghlahs and carracks, and even some schooners. They were beautiful, their white sails cutting through the blue sky, names delicately painted along their hulls. The Watcher’s Bargain had looked like that, gold letters spelling out her name in neat cursive. Grian shook the thought from his mind. He didn’t have time to be sad today.

With the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times before, Grian tied a bandana around his head, tucking the feathers around his ears underneath it, out of sight. He donned a poncho that slipped over his head and covered his brown and white striped wings, making sure that they remained within the sleeves that he’d sewn himself to keep them in place and comfortable. 

A quick glance in the mirror revealed that he looked like a perfectly normal human, no hybrid traits to be seen. Good. He wasn’t looking to be sold today either. 

He snatched up his basket from where it waited for him on his table, then rushed out the door, taking a deep breath of the outside air. It smelled like fish and sweat and salt, but more importantly, it smelled like home. The sea may have betrayed him, but it was a sweet traitor, and the sound of her waves crashing against the shore was like a song in his ears. 

Sweeping down the docks, Grian made a beeline for the marketplace, colorful canopies like a beacon underneath the blazing sun. All around him, the port was waking up, merchants and sailors gathering their wares and preparing to sell or sail. The hum of activity was invigorating.

The first stall on his journey was Tango’s mechanics shop. Most people scoffed or turned their noses up at his inventions, claiming that the traditional was better, more suited for practical things, and not long ago, Grian probably would have agreed. But Tango’s inventions had changed his mind. Whether it was toys for the children running around barefoot along the docks, or pulley systems to make drawing in fish easier, Tango had the best creations around. Even the pocket watches that he made were perfect, keeping the time better than any sundial. 

“Oh, hey Grian!” The man himself was currently fiddling with what looked like some kind of prosthetic, maybe a leg? Whatever it was, it had covered his hands completely in grease and oil, as well as a good portion of his counter. “How can I help you today?” 

“I was just stopping by to say hello.” Grian leaned up against a clean section of the counter, drumming his fingers against it. “It’s a big port day today.” 

“Yeah, I’m expecting a lot of business.” Tango nodded, squinting at the intricate gears and cogs of his project. “Hopefully it’ll be enough for me to buy some more raw material. I’m beginning to run low.” 

“I think I saw a copper merchant a little bit ago, down the street.” Grian yawned, then patted the countertop. “I’ve got to run a few errands, I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Yeah, and thanks for the tip on the copper!” Tango lifted a hand in farewell, tool still in hand. 

“No problem!” Grian gave him a nod, then strode back down the street towards where the yarn and fabric vendors would be set up. He was hoping to pick up some nice wool, and maybe some dye if he could get his hands on it. It was summer now, but soon the seasons would turn and the breeze blowing up from the ocean would be bitterly cold instead of pleasant. He wanted a sweater by then, something that would block out the chill, and if he waited to buy until the temperatures dropped, then the prices would be exuberantly expensive. 

Unfortunately for him, he never made it to the cloth vendors. 

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, halting him in his path. “No sudden moves, birdie.” 

Uh oh. That wasn’t good.

“Excuse me?” Grian tried to wrench his way out of the grip, but it only tightened. “You’ve got the wrong person, idiot. Let me go.” 

He got a laugh in return, low and gruff. “I don’t think so. There aren’t a lot of birds in this port, especially none with beautiful wings like your own.” 

“They’re not for sale.” Grian evened out his breathing, preparing himself for a fight. “You’ll have to look elsewhere, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh no, I’m not going to let you go.” The slaver, because that’s what he had to be, said. There was a threat to his voice that Grian really did not like the sound of. “Come now, walk with me. Don’t try to run or scream, or I’ll break one of your precious wings.” 

Grian considered fighting. He really did. But he could feel the strength in the slaver’s hand, and he knew the pain that came from broken wings. He would have to find another way out. 

“So, what’s the plan with me?” He asked casually, eyes scanning the market for anyone looking his way. No one was watching them. He was on his own. 

“I think it’s more exciting to wait and see, don’t you think?” The slaver guided him roughly through the streets, further away from the sea. That could be a good thing, it meant that he wasn’t getting loaded onto a ship. Being on a ship severely limited his options for escape, and while he could fly for a long while, he probably wouldn’t have access to his wings on board the deck. 

“I prefer knowing what’s going to happen.” Grian tried to glance over his shoulder to look at his captor, only for the hand on his shoulder to squeeze, a warning. “Easy, I have hollow bones.” 

“I’ll be as rough as I like, thank you very much.” The slaver growled. “Keep moving.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” Things were not looking good for him. The further into the city they got, the less crowded it was, and the less likely that someone would notice his predicament and jump in to save him. Not that they would anyway, but it was nice to pretend. 

As they walked, a grey tabby cat slunk out of one of the alleyways and began to pad alongside them, green eyes blinking up at Grian. This wasn’t that uncommon, there were plenty of mice and rats in the city and the strays were always well fed. This cat probably thought he had something to give it.

“Sorry, kitty, I’m being kidnapped right now, no food for you.” He shook his head.

“Shut up.” The slaver demanded. “Shoo, cat.” 

He kicked at it, but it scrambled away before his boot could connect. It let out a hiss of displeasure, then ran down the street ahead of them, leaping up onto the porch of a tavern. There was a sailor leaning against the outside wall, arms folded. He wore a loose white tunic with a yellow sash tied around his waist, and his hair was brushed back out of his face. There was a piercing set into his eyebrow, glinting silver in the sunlight. 

The cat rubbed up against his ankles, and he bent down and stroked it a few times, before looking up to see what had startled it. Upon seeing Grian and the slaver, he pushed off the wall and stepped down in the street, blocking their path. 

“Gentlemen, what’s going on here?” He asked casually, but there was an air of a threat in his tone. 

There were a few ways this could go, Grian decided. One, this guy was a saint and was going to get him out of this situation and let him go back to his life. Odds of this happening? Unlikely, don’t count on it. 

Two, this guy wanted to sell Grian himself. Avians could fetch a lot of money in the slave markets, and he was in pretty good condition, if he said so himself. Odds of this happening? Very likely, prepare for a getaway.

Three, this guy was mad that they had disturbed the cat. Or his peace. Or something like that. He was going to go after both of them for that. Odds of this happening? Somewhat likely, depending on how much alcohol he’s had. 

“None of your business.” The slaver replied with an even tone. “Go back into the tavern and buy yourself a drink.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The sailor drew his sword, pointing it at the slaver. “Let him go.” 

“Don’t move or I’ll break your wings.” The slaver released Grian, who immediately whipped around and bit him soundly on the hand. Without giving him any time to react, Grian drew back his fist and slammed it into his gut, causing him to double over in pain. Then he turned around and ran. 

“Thank you!” He hollered over his shoulder, launching himself over a stack of crates and sprinting as quickly as he could back towards the docks. He wasn’t sure if this slaver had friends, if he did, then he couldn’t afford to stop until he was in a heavily populated area. 

Something smashed behind him, something wooden, and he couldn’t tell if it had something to do with him or if it was a coincidence. He chose to believe the former, and tried to pick up his pace.

“Stop! Thief!” The slaver shouted behind him.

Oh, that cheater . Grian ducked underneath the grasping hand of a guard, alerted by the cries. “I’m not a thief, he’s trying to kidnap me!”
No one was going to believe him, of course, but hey, it was worth a shot. 

“Hey!” The sailor from earlier shouted above the noise. “Leave my crewmate alone, he’s telling the truth! Come back!” 

Grian, startled by this declaration, skidded to a stop, wings flaring out beneath his poncho to balance him. He whipped around, eyes wide as he saw the slaver still running towards him, gripping his arm. Blood was welling up through his fingers, and Grian knew for a fact that he hadn’t done that damage. The sailor who had intercepted them was also running towards him, though much more nimbly.

“He is a member of my crew and a free man!” The sailor declared to the guards, who had paused awkwardly in the street. “You will not lay a hand on him, he is not a thief and this man is a slaver who attempted to take one of my men. He is the one you should be arresting!” 

“Is this true?” The closet guard to Grian asked roughly, sounding incredibly suspicious of the whole situation.

Grian, knowing when to take advantage of a situation, nodded. “Yes sir. I ran because this man was attempting to put me into slavery. I am a free avian, I have my papers on me if you would like to see them.” 

“Show me.” The guard demanded. With a sigh, Grian reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper, handing it to him.

“Never leave home without them.” 

“Smart idea.” The guard unfolded it and read it over, then handed it back. “You’re clear.”

Grian took it and stepped back as the guards corralled the slaver and began to thoroughly question him. As he did so, the sailor who had claimed him a part of the crew made his way to his side.
“You’re a fast runner.” He commented, sheathing his sword. Grian hadn’t even realized it was out. That must have been why the slaver was bleeding.

“You have to be when you look like me.” Grian replied, already on edge again. “I hope you know that I’m not going with you. If this is some ploy to sell me instead, I’m not going to go along with it without a fight.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere.” The sailor shrugged. “But that guy has a few friends roaming around the streets, so I’d recommend you stick by me until their ship leaves later this afternoon.” 

Grian groaned. “Really? And here all I wanted to do was buy some wool.” 

“I’m going back to my ship, you can choose to follow me or try and make it on your own for the rest of the day.” The sailor yawned and stretched, then began walking down the docks towards the harbor. After a moment of hesitation, Grian followed. He wasn’t going to let himself get caught again, if what the sailor said was true. 

“I didn’t catch your name.” He asked as he caught up, matching the pace of the other man. “I’m Grian.” 

“Impulse.” The sailor gave him a nod. “Nice to meet you.” 

“What’s your trade?” Grian continued, not letting any silence gather. “You’re clearly not from the port city, though you also don’t look like a merchant. What ship do you belong to?”

“I’m aboard the Wandering Trader .” Impulse stuck his hands in his pockets as they walked. “She’s a good ship, a clipper, schooner.” 

“You have a schooner clipper?” Grian raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing that makes it necessary to go that fast? How quick is she?” 

Impulse grinned at him. “She’s fast, trust me, I helped make her.” 

“My last ship was a schooner.” Grian found himself saying. Why did he say that? He shouldn’t have said that. The past was better left where it was, he shouldn’t be bringing up the Watcher’s Bargain . 

“They’re good ships.” Impulse nodded. “I didn’t answer your question about why our ship needs to go fast, it’s ‘cause we trade in a lot of exotic goods. Merchants will pay a pretty penny to get their fancy wares somewhere fast.” 

“Huh.” 

They walked along the deck side by side, occasionally making comments about the other ships, but otherwise staying silent and enjoying the bustle of the harbor. After a few minutes, the little grey tabby cat from before rejoined them, trotting along at Impulse’s side.

“Is that your cat?” Grian asked curiously, bending down as he walked to get a better look at it. “It seems to like you.” 

“Oh no, she’s not my cat, but she is a member of my crew.” Impulse explained. “Her name is Jellie, she’s the ship cat. She was the first proper crew member, the captain’s had her since she was a kitten.”

“You’re not the captain?” Grian blinked, surprised. He had been sure that Impulse was in charge of the ship, the way that he talked about her. 

“No, I’m second in command.” Impulse chuckled. “You’d be surprised though, I get that a lot.” 

Grian scratched between Jellie’s ears, then straightened. “Where is your ship then? We’ve been walking a while, and I’m not seeing any schooners.” 

“Oh, that’s cause she doesn’t look like a schooner right now.” Impulse came to a stop in front of what appeared to be a full-rigged ship, spreading his arms grandly. “Meet the Wandering Trader. ” 

“You’ve disguised her as a full-rigged?” Grian looked her up and down, a look of distaste on his face. “Why would you do that now?”

“Costs more to have a schooner at the docks.” Impulse shrugged. “This keeps the cost down.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” Grian looked over the ship, unsurprised to see a variety of crew members unloading and reloading it. He couldn’t tell what the cargo was, it was all packaged up in neat crates and carefully set to the side, waiting to be taken to the market. There was someone sitting atop a stack of them, a scroll of parchment in hand, and as Grian looked closer, he realized that he knew that person. 

Oh no.

Oh no. 

It was Pearl. Pearl was sitting there. Pearl was alive. How was she alive? Oh she was going to hate him. She was going to hate him and he needed to leave, now. She couldn’t see him. He wasn’t going to let her see him.

“Well, Impulse, it was nice meeting you and seeing your ship, I’ve gotta go now, bye!!” Grian whirled around and sprinted down the deck, leaving Impulse to scramble for words. The sounds that he made as he was left in the dust sounded a lot like what was going on in his head.

Pearl. Pearl was alive. He thought he’d been the only one to make it out. No, he was sure that he was the only one to make it out. No one could have avoided that storm and made it out alive, not without…not without paying the price.

She was going to hate him. 

He needed to forget about this completely. Before his instincts reactivated. Before they realized that his flock was in the same port as he was, and he knew exactly where she was. 

Oh no. 

He was in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

Grian threw a pillow across the room, wings flapping indignantly. He couldn't stop thinking about Pearl. All it had taken was ten seconds of seeing her, and now his instincts were demanding he be reunited with his flock. 

His flock was dead. They were gone. He was alone and he needed to get over it and go to bed.

But Pearl was alive. She was alive and he had seen her. She was alive and now he couldn't sleep because there was a part of his flock out there and he needed to be with her. 

Okay. Time to make a choice, then.

Option number one, he tries to forget everything that happened. He won't be able to sleep for weeks, maybe even months, because even if he convinces his mind that it wasn't Pearl, his instincts know. He might start pulling feathers from the stress of it, which would be worse than the insomnia. Maybe he takes up Tango's offer to stay with him for a time, that would take the edge off of the loneliness by being with a friend. It wouldn't replace flock, it could never replace flock, but it might make it better?

Option number two, he goes to the ship and talks with Pearl. They're still in port, he could see the full-rigged disguised schooner in the distance from his tiny rented room. But Pearl wasn't going to want to talk to him, not after what he did. She would yell at him, she would tell him how much she hated him, she wouldn't hesitate to throw him over the side of the ship and into the shallow harbor. It would shatter the flock bond worse than any death ever could, and it might send him into a catatonic state, because instincts really were just that bad.

Option number three, and the worst option he could have come up with. He sneaks onto the ship. The proximity to Pearl would soothe his instincts enough for him to sleep, but he wouldn't have to talk to her at all. Of course, becoming a stowaway was practically a death sentence. If he got caught hiding, they would most likely throw him overboard, no questions asked. There was no way he wouldn't drown, what with his wings and low stamina. But if he stayed hidden….

No, this was a stupid plan. It was a stupid plan and he should just go with the first option and forget that Pearl was ever in this port. Pearl? Pearl wasn't here, Pearl drowned, that was someone who just looked like her. Pearl was dead and the woman on the dock was a doppelganger.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work.

Dang it.

-

Sneaking onto the ship was…surprisingly easy. It probably helped that the only things he brought with him was a single change of clothing and some nesting material, as well as a bit of food to keep him from taking too much from the ship's stores. 

It seemed that the entirety of the crew was on the deck of the ship, by the mainmast, having some kind of celebration. The glow of lanterns and the sounds of music and laughter floated across the deck, and Grian's heart ached with the loneliness that it festered in him. If he strained, he could see Pearl sitting with them, strumming a lute, just like she used to before everything went wrong. A chirp bubbled up in his throat, but he choked it down. He couldn't afford to be caught.

Swiftly and silently, he made his way across the opposite side of the ship and down beneath the deck, bare talons lightly scraping the wood but not leaving any marks. The stairs led directly to the cargo hold, just like it had on his old ship. Cautiously, he slipped through the many crates of supplies, until he found an area he deemed tucked away enough to sleep. 

He would just stay the night, that was what he decided. He would get a full night's rest, then get off the ship and continue with his life. His instincts would be furious with him for letting Pearl go, of course, but that was just something he would have to deal with. He just needed one night to let the tension seep out of his wings.

He unslung his pack and unloaded the two blankets and single pillow that he'd packed. It wouldn't make much of a nest, but it would have to do. His instincts were somewhat satisfied with the knowledge that Pearl was nearby, so they weren't too upset with the meager nest.

With a quiet trill, he curled up into a ball and fell asleep to the sounds of the ocean gently lapping against the sides of the ship.

-

The moment he woke up, Grian knew he had made a mistake. 

What was he thinking, getting on a random ship? Who cares if there was a member of his flock on it, he was still on someone else's ship without permission, he had slept in their cargo hold! He should know better than to make decisions past midnight, now he had to figure out how to get off the ship without anyone noticing him.

The problem came when he realized that the ship was rocking. Obviously, all ships rocked to some degree when they were in port, but this? This was the kind of rocking that only came when a ship was cresting the waves of the deep ocean, far from any harbor. 

Well, it looks like he was funny committed to option three now. 

Grian sighed and leaned back against a stack of crates, closing his eyes and slowly swaying with the movement of the ship. It felt so familiar, and despite Grian's misgivings, it was soothing. It reminded him of warm summer days when the sun would be balanced out by the breeze, when the sea salt would need to be preened out of his feathers, when he would fly circles around the masts with Jimmy and inevitably one of them would get tangled in the rigging.

He missed those days. 

The sound of feet moving around above deck startled him out of his reverie, and he tucked himself further between the crates. Right, he was a stowaway on a ship. If he wasn't careful, if he got caught, he could be killed or sold. He didn't know what the tolerance was on this ship, and he wasn't keen to find out.  

He needed a plan. He couldn't just stay here forever, when they unloaded their stock he would be found. He could try sneaking above deck and flying away, but he didn't know how far from land they were, or which way he would need to fly to get there. His instincts might be able to guide him back to land, but he couldn't count on that, especially with their desire to stay with flock. They would probably just lead him right back to the ship.

He would have to wait until they were in a port again and get off the ship. It would be tricky, but if he moved quickly, he could avoid being caught and fly away before they had time to react. Once he was airborne, he would be fine to make his way back home. Maybe. Depending on if he can force himself to leave Pearl.

Oh, why did he have to see Pearl on that ship? Things would have been so much easier if he'd never known she was alive, if he'd kept on believing she was dead. 

With a sigh, he wrapped his wings around himself and prepared himself for a long wait. After all, he pretty much had no idea how far the next port was, but going based off of the food rations around him, it was going to be a while.

It only took about an hour for him to become suitably bored. The longer he sat, the more depressing his thoughts became, and the more he tried to push them away, the more he realized that there was nothing to do. 

So he started opening crates.

The first one held various different salted meats, nearly stacked and preserved to last. The second one contained the same, as did the third. The fourth was filled with fresh fruit, while the fifth held dry fruit. 

The sixth crate was where things started to get interesting. Upon opening it, Grian was met with beautiful fabrics, dyed colors that he hadn't thought possible, bright greens and blues and oranges. Without a second thought, he stuck his hands into the crate and ran his hands along the fabric, marvelling at just how soft it was. This was not your average sheep wool, this was something else entirely, and Grian was in love.

There were several more crates packed with the miraculous fabric, each one filled to the brim with enough variety of colors to make a full wheel of them. If a few of the red and purple cloths disappeared, well, that could easily be blamed on a poorly logged inventory.

It was at the eleventh or twelfth crate where things started to go…weird. He had opened it, expecting to see more of the gorgeous fabric, only to be met with what looked to be mechanical parts, like what would be found in Tango's shop. There were all sorts of gears and cogs and other mechanical doodads that Grian had no idea what to call, and they were all thrown into the crate somewhat haphazardly, with no system of organization, which was very unlike the other crates that he'd opened before.

Grian pocketed a few of the more shiny gears before moving on to the next crate.

There were three more crates filled with similar mechanical devices, but he had already nicked a few shiny things and he didn’t want to get too cocky, so he let them be. The next crate was…empty? Why would they have empty crates on a ship that just left port? That didn’t make any sense, they wouldn’t have gone through that much food in a day, and even if they did, he would have heard them moving around and woken up. Or they would have found him and thrown him overboard. 

He was about to move on to his next crate when he heard a pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. Instinct took over, and he threw himself behind the stack of crates that he had already opened and clumsily closed. His wings fluffed up, and he hastily tried to pat them down and make them smaller so that he wouldn’t be as easy to find.

“Hmph, I think the man’s a moron, if you ask me.” A gruff voice grumbled.

“Shh, you know how loyal his are to him.” A slightly higher voice, more nervous. “Any of those three would kill you in a heartbeat.” 

“Please, I’d like to see them try.”

“No, you really don’t.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The footsteps were drawing nearer and nearer, too close, they were going to find him, they were going to stumble upon him in his hiding spot, he was going to get caught–

“Where does that man keep his gold? You told me he was rich!” The gruff one snarled.

“He is, I promise he is, I just don’t know where he keeps it. He always comes down here though!” The nervous one replied.

“Well, cloth isn’t going to get me any money, so you’d better figure it out soon.” 

One of the crates to the side of Grian moved, and he slammed a hand over his mouth to stop himself from chirping in surprise. Unfortunately, this also meant that he wasn't holding down his wings anymore, and it fluffed up, feathers sticking out from behind the safety of his crate. He tried to pull it back in, but the damage had already been done.

“What's this?” A hand grabbed a handful of his primaries and yanked. This time, there was no way of quieting the chirp of pain as the feathers were pulled, and just like that, he was discovered.

“A stowaway!” The nervous one shouted, and the hand gripping his primaries released him, only to reach further in and grab his wing where the two segments met. Grian screeched in pain as he was dragged out of his hiding place, the delicate bones of his wrist joint scraping against each other as the grip tightened. He thrashed, flapping his free wing and continuing to screech, legs kicking out to try and make contact.

“Get Essvii, now.” The gruff voice ordered, and another hand reached out and grabbed his forearm, holding more firmly. His vision sharpened as his instincts kicked in, and he fought even harder, trying to get his talons around the back to claw at his captor. He could see someone disappearing up the steps to the deck, and his panic only grew. 

He needed to get out, he needed to fly away, he was danger, he was trapped, he needed to go–

He was being dragged up the stairs, talons scraping at the wood, this time actually leaving long scores behind. He frantically beat his free wing, letting out another ear piercing screech, but the grip on him was too strong. He was trapped. 

“They’re right down here, sir!” 

“Bring them up on deck.” Oh void, that was the sailor who had saved him, Grian couldn't remember his name, he was too busy fighting. He twisted his head around and bit down as hard as he could on the hand gripping his shoulder. His captor let out a shout of pain, but instead of loosening his hand, he only tightened it. Grian bit down harder in retaliation, and his mouth filled with the salty taste of blood.

“Stupid bird is feral!” The gruff one jerked him so that his head bounced away from the hand, releasing his bite. Grian spat the blood in his mouth onto the wooden planks of the deck and hissed, trying and failing to pull his wing out of the painful grip keeping him in place.

“You’ve got their wings trapped, of course they're freaking out!” The sailor came into view, a reprimanding look taking over the surprise on his face. “Let go of the wing and grab their other shoulder.”

The gruff one hesitated for a moment, then released Grian's wing, leaving it to hang loosely by his side. It hurt to move now, but it was probably bruised, not sprained. He still hissed and snarled, twisting in his grip, but now that he was being held by both shoulders, his movement was restricted even more than before.

“Okay, easy, what's going–Grian?” 

Oh great.

Chapter Text

Impulse hadn't been expecting trouble the first day out of port, but here he was, getting dragged across the deck by their newest crew member, the man practically incoherent. He knew there was something about a stowaway, but that was about it.

Stowaways hadn't really ever been a problem on this ship before. Most desperate people had heard of the Wandering Trader before, and knew to steer clear of it. Or at least, they knew to steer clear of its main crew. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to deal with this one just yet.

When he ducked around the mast, he was greeted with one of the men, Greg, hauling a screaming and writhing avian up the stairs, bleeding rather heavily from the hand gripping their shoulder. It was impossible to tell any real distinguishing features about the avian except for brown and white feathers, due to how aggressively they were fighting. 

“Stupid bird is feral!” Greg growled, meeting Impulse's eyes. 

It didn't take Impulse very long to realize why they were fighting quite so aggressively. Their wing was completely trapped within Greg's grip, feathers twisted in a way that was no doubt painful.

“You’ve got their wings trapped, of course they're freaking out!” He stepped closer, drawing himself up to his full height and putting on his 'I'm-in-charge' voice. “Let go of the wing and grab their other shoulder.”

Greg complied, though grumpily. The hold via the shoulders also provided another advantage besides leaving the avian's wings undamaged, and that was that they couldn't struggle as much. 

“Okay, easy, what's going–” The face that greeted him was familiar, and he realized that it was the same avian that he'd saved from slavery the day before. “Grian?”

The avian stopped struggling, hunched over and breathing hard, pupils blown wide. He was clearly terrified, and probably pretty close to being feral, like Greg had assumed. Impulse would have to deescalate the situation.

“Hey, what's going on?” Impulse took a small step forward, close enough that they could have a conversation but not close enough to be threatening. “I thought I wasn't ever going to meet you again.”

“Let me go, I'll leave and I won't bother you anymore, I wasn't even trying to be a stowaway.” Grian stumbled over his words, giving them an almost slurred quality, no doubt because his instincts would much rather he be chirping than speaking. “It was an accident.”

“Okay, I believe you.” Impulse wasn't really sure how you could accidentally become a stowaway, but he knew that hybrid instincts could be weird sometimes. “Greg, let him go. Grian, don't fly off just yet, your wing was just clamped and I don't want you to fall out of the sky.”

Greg didn't let go of Grian.

“Greg.” Impulse folded his arms. “I gave you an order.”

“You're gonna let a stowaway go.” Greg responded stubbornly. 

“Maybe.” Impulse shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “But that's my choice, not yours. You are not the one in charge here.”

After three impossibly long seconds, Greg released Grian. Grian immediately whirled on him and punched him square in the nose, then staggered back down the deck, one wing flapping wildly while the other hung by his side limply. Maybe it was more damaged than Impulse had immediately assumed.

“Hey, hey, easy Grian, easy.” Impulse held up his hands in a surrender position, shooting Greg a glare when he took a step forward to retaliate. He stopped in place, though it clearly took a lot of effort from his part. Impulse would have to talk to Scar about removing him from the crew, if his aggression was this out of hand.

Grian rattled his feathers threateningly, his eyes wide and scared. “Stay back!”

“Okay.” Impulse sat down on the deck. “I’m not gonna come any closer.”

Grian tilted his head to the side, clearly not expecting that move. His talons clawed at the deck anxiously, and his feathers were still fluffed up to make himself look bigger. 

“Listen, Grian, I’m not really sure how you ended up on my ship, but that’s okay. You told me it was an accident, and I believe you.” Impulse placed his hands in his lap where they were easily visible. “Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to get you back to the port we came from. We’ve been sailing for several hours now, and the wind would not be in our favor if we turned around.”

“I can fly.” Grian glanced quickly down at his hurt wing, then back up at Impulse. “I don’t need to cause you any more trouble.” 

“I don’t think your wing is in a condition to fly right now.” Impulse responded, not harshly. “I don’t know how tight Greg was holding it, but it’s probably at least bruised, and we should probably have the ship doctor look at it. She’ll be able to get you fixed up right away, free of charge.” 

“What’s the catch?” Grian drew his wings closer around himself, wincing as he did so. 

“No catch.” Impulse promised. “We’ll fix your wing, and you can leave. That’s it.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He stated. “There’s a catch somewhere.” 

“Grian, I–” Impulse began, only to be interrupted.

“Grian?” Pearl stepped around the mast, eyes wide with shock. She had tossed aside her jacket due to the heat, though she still wore the moon pin that held it in place on her collar. Her hair was slowly falling out of its braid and over her shoulder, and the cloth normally tied around her forehead to prevent sweat from getting in her eyes was in her hand. 

Grian collapsed to the deck in a heap of feathers, wings covering himself from view. A strangled chirp emerged from the pile, and Impulse shot to his feet, alarm rushing through him. Pearl beat him to the avian, crouching down by his side and lightly nudging his wings out of the way.

“Oh my gosh, Grian, what are you doing?” 

Impulse hovered behind her, not really knowing what to do. “Pearl, what’s going on?”

“It’s…” Pearl took a deep breath, not taking her eyes off of Grian. “He's Griba. I've told you the stories, back before I joined the crew.”

“What?” Impulse immediately crouched down next to her. “You said he was dead.” 

“I thought he was, but clearly not!” Pearl sat down, crossing her legs. “Grian, Griba, hey, buddy, what’s going on?”

Grian looked up at her, tears running down his face, and let out a soft chirp.

“Okay.” Pearl reached forward and gently pulled him into her lap, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay. Impulse, what’s going on?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure.” Impulse spread his hands. “One of the crew pulled him up out of the cargo hold, I met him yesterday in port but didn’t think much of it. He said he didn’t mean to stowaway, and that it was an accident.”

“Bird brain.” Pearl sighed, massaging the space between Grian’s wings.

“Is he okay?” Impulse asked, concerned by how tightly the avian was clinging to her, face buried in her shirt.

“Do you know about avians and flock?” Pearl asked in response, and Impulse shook his head. “Well, flock is basically family. Most of the time, your flock is your biological family, but others can be adopted into it. I’m a part of Grian’s flock. Grian probably thought I was dead, just like how I thought he was. I…his instincts are probably in meltdown mode right now because the…I guess the flock bond? I think that’s what Jimmy called it. It’s been reestablished, and it’s so sudden and intense that he’s like…” She gestured to the heap of Grian in her lap. “This.”

“Right. Okay.” Impulse frowned, his brow furrowing. “But wait…you said…when the ship…”

“No one could have survived that wreck, Impulse.” Pearl gave him a serious look. “No one. So the fact that Grian’s alive and here…it doesn’t mean anything good.” 

-

Grian woke up feeling more comfortable than he had in over a year. His instincts were a quiet hum in the back of his mind, content and happy in a way that had seemed impossible over the past several months. He was cuddled up against something soft and warm and familiar, and his mouth was halfway through the shape of a chirp when he realized what sort of noise he’d been about to make.

He’d been about to say flock. 

His flock was dead. All of them. 

“Griba? You waking up?” 

Oh.  

He couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes as he lifted his head to meet the eyes of one of the longest members of his flock, the person who had been by his side for years, the person who he had watched sink beneath the waves and never rise to the surface.

Pearl had her arms around him, she was smiling, she was alive and she was looking at him and she was so full of life. A desperate chirp burst through Grian’s lips, and he hugged her as tightly as he could, a ragged sob escaping him as he did so. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Pearl, I didn’t–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Pearl gently tilted his chin up so he could see her face. She was still smiling, though there were tears in her eyes now as well. “Grian. I’m not mad at you.”

“You should be, you should hate me, you should–” Grian stammered, but she shook her head.

“Hey birdbrain, if I hated you for surviving, then I would have to hate myself too.” She sat up straighter and pulled up her shirt sleeve, revealing a tattoo on the inside of her wrist, bright purple against her tanned skin. It was all too familiar, of a square with two opposing corners disconnected with the rest of the shape, and an eye staring up at them from the middle. Then she reached forward and tugged Grian’s sleeve up as well, placing her wrist next to his. Two identical eyes looked blankly up at the ceiling, made of the same sickly purple ink. 

“Oh.” Grian stated dumbly.

“Yeah.” Pearl let go of his arm. “Griba, no one could have survived that wreck. The fact that you saw me and thought that I would hate you…”

“I just…” Grian fluffed up his wings defensively. 

“You just thought that you would be the only one to make a deal with the devil?” Pearl snorted. “Yeah, sure. Come on, we’d been chasing the rumors for years and you assumed I would just die like that?”

“You thought I was dead too.” Grian protested. 

“I did.” The smile on Pearl’s face dropped. “And we actually…sorry. I don’t mean to get all serious on you, but…have you paid off your debt?”

Grian froze. “...have you?”

Pearl swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. I have.” 

“What did you have to do?” 

For a long moment, the only sound in the cabin was that of creaking wood and waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Then Pearl unbuttoned her jacket and slid it off, which was when Grian realized that it didn’t have slits in the back for her wings. That in itself wasn’t totally unusual, she had worn a jacket over her fragile moth wings all the time before to keep the sea from damaging them, but they were inside right now, and she had no reason to keep them tucked away.

“...you didn’t.” He breathed.

Pearl turned around, revealing the open back of her tunic. What stuck out of her back were the remains of what had once been beautiful moth wings, torn near the base, the ends ragged. “They were never going to work again anyway, they had already gotten soaked through, but they didn’t know that and I wasn’t about to tell them.”

“Oh Pearl, I’m so sorry.” Grian whispered. “You’re…oh void, you’re grounded.”

“It’s okay, actually, Mumbo and I are working on a project to help me fly again.” Pearl turned back around, tugging her jacket back on. “It would never work on a non-flying hybrid or a human, just because there’s no instinct there to kick in, and the muscles just wouldn’t cooperate, but it’s beginning to work for me!”

Grian tilted his head to one side. “Who’s Mumbo?”

“Oh, he’s like…hmm, how do you describe Mumbo?” Pearl twitched her antenna, thinking. “Well, he’s pretty odd, to be honest. But he’s super sweet, and a great friend! He makes these super cool inventions that help out the crew and the ship, and he’s usually the one to pull out something to save us in the end. He also has a moustache, which you know is hard to pull off out here in the ocean.” 

“Hey, at least we tried to grow something presentable.” Grian huffed, folding his arms.

“Oh yeah, three blond boys try to grow a moustache, it’ll look perfectly fine.” Pearl punched him lightly in the arm. “B was the only one who could pull off something like that, and even still, he always preferred a beard.” 

“Jimmy’s didn’t look…that…” Grian stifled a laugh. “Okay maybe it did look kind of stupid as just a moustache.”

“Anyway, you’ve already met Impulse, he’s a delight.” Pearl waved a hand through the air. “You still have to meet our captain, Scar, but I think you two will get along like a house on fire.” 

“There are only four of you?” Grian frowned. “But I could have sworn…”

“Oh, no, we have a rotating cast of crew.” Pearl leaned back into the…the nest? She had made a nest while he’d been out? Unless…did he do that? “Usually we can only hold on to people for a few missions, either they quit, die, or get fired before they last long. Only me, Mumbo, and Impulse have been permanent crew.”

“...what kind of missions do you do?” Grian began fiddling with the nest, correcting small bits of blanket that were out of place. 

“Uhh…” Pearl drummed her fingers on her knee. “I should probably let Scar tell you.”

“Are you trading illegally?” Grian paused in his fiddling. “...Pearl, are you a pirate?”

She looked off to the side guiltily. “...maybe.” 

“You became a pirate without me?!” He cried, clasping a hand to his heart in faux betrayal. “Pearl! You told me we wouldn’t turn to piracy, and then the second I die, you go off and join a pirate crew?” 

“We’re not exactly pirates, we’re more like mercenaries.” Pearl shook her head in exasperation. “Mercenaries who occasionally commit crimes when we don’t have a job.” 

“Oh, Jimmy would be so upset with you.” Grian flopped back against her, adjusting his wings so that they draped over her like a blanket. “...do you think he made it? If we both did?”

“No.” Pearl took a shaky breath. “He wasn’t favored, not like us. You know that they hated him. Him and Martyn. If anyone were to survive, it would be B, but it’s been a long time now and I haven’t heard anything. Though I didn’t hear anything about you either, so…” 

“I miss them.” Grian murmured. “I miss them so much, Pearl.”

“I know.” Pearl directed his head onto her shoulder and set her own atop his. “I miss them too. But I have you now. And you have me. So I think things will be okay.”

Grian closed his eyes, letting himself sink back into her embrace. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

“All hands to the deck!” Impulse shouted, clapping his hands together and shoving hammocks when the sailors inside weren’t getting out fast enough. “Captain’s called a meeting! Everyone up!” 

“What’s going on?” Mumbo rolled out of his hammock, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Scar’s called a meeting.” Impulse clapped him on his back. “I have a feeling we’re about to find out what our next mission is.”

“Oh, right, okay!” Mumbo hurried up onto the deck and, with a grin, Impulse followed him. As he emerged from the stairs, he saw Pearl standing near the back of the crew's huddle, Grian clinging to her arm like a shy child. His eyes were wide as he took in the ship, and Impulse realized that he really hadn't gotten a proper look at it before. He made his way over to the two, keeping his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn't look too threatening.

“Morning, Pearl. Morning, Grian.” He yawned. “How'd you sleep?”

“Morning, Impulse.” Pearl grinned at him. “I slept fantastic, how about you?”

“Yeah, you got the cabin, of course you slept well.” Impulse snorted. “I was on watch last night, so I'm still kinda tired, but not too bad.”

“Scar called a meeting?” Pearl asked, glancing up at the wheel, which was absent of a captain.

Impulse nodded. “He should be out soon, I'm pretty sure we're about to find out what our next mission is.”

“Mission?” Grian asked curiously, the feathers around his ears flicking up in interest.

“Uhh…did Pearl tell you what we do on this ship?” Impulse looked over at her, and she gave him a helpless shrug.

“He figured it out pretty much on his own.”

“You're pirates.” Grian stated simply.

“Mercenaries, technically.” Impulse corrected. “But yes. We've gotten a commission from a very rich customer, and we're about to find out what it actually is. Scar makes all of the deals around here, he's scarily good at it.”

“Why hello there, everyone!” Scar emerged from around the mast, seemingly from nowhere. Despite the heat, he was wearing his long jacket, and there was a sparkle in his bright green eyes that usually meant trouble. “Thank you all for gathering here today. I’m sure you all want to know why you’re all here.” 

A chorus of agreeing murmurs ran through the gathered sailors, about twenty in number. 

“Well, I’ve got an exciting proposition for you all.” Scar clapped his hands together excitedly. “How many of you have heard the tale of the Watchers?”

-

Grian couldn’t breathe. He could hear Pearl gasp beside him, but he couldn’t react to it. He felt a creeping numbness spreading through him, and the only thing he could do was continue to cling to Pearl’s sleeve. 

The captain was still talking, about a kingdom filled with riches, about treasure abound, about the lofty payment that they would receive if they could bring back proof that the Watchers existed. 

Grian was living proof that they did. So was Pearl.

He hadn’t paid his debt. He hadn’t paid his debt and this was his punishment, they were going to go after the Watchers, they were going to try and deal with them, there were going to be so many consequences. They were going to take Pearl from him. They were going to take his wings. They were going to drown everyone on the ship for even daring to find them. They already knew, they were Watching, they were going to destroy everything and save him for last, they were–

“Grian, Grian, listen to me, you need to breathe.” 

“Pearl.” He gasped, and an arm wrapped around him, pulling him close.

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“Pearl? Is everything alright?” 

“Impulse, the Watchers are how we survived that storm.”

“Oh no. We can get Scar to call this off, we’ll drop it, it’ll be okay–”
“It’s too late, he’s already promised it to the crew. It’s…hang on, I’ll get back to you in a second. Grian?”

Grian drew in a shuddering breath, his shoulders heaving from the effort. His wing was gently extended by a hand, and fingers began to run through his feathers, patting down where they’d fluffed up in panic. 

“Pearl, I can’t–they’ll kill you–” 

“I already fulfilled my end of the deal, Grian, they can’t touch me anymore.” Pearl murmured. “I’m safe.”

“But I haven’t.” Grian whispered, voice cracking. “I haven’t and they’re going to be angry.” 

“Grian, what did you offer?” Pearl asked, calm but firm.

Grian lifted his head to meet her eyes, his wings shivering. “Devotion. I promised devotion. And then I ran.”

“You ran…from the Watchers?” Pearl’s jaw dropped. “How? I mean…that’s impossible, you escaped after promising devotion?”

“I killed one of them. That was enough to get away.” Grian swallowed. “That’s all I had to do.” 

“Pearl, what do you want me to do?” Impulse stood just behind her, hands hovering in the air uncertainly, like he wanted to offer them a hug or help them up. 

“We continue with the mission.” Pearl straightened, pulling Grian up with her. “If Grian can kill a Watcher on his own, then we can kill one with a crew. They won’t hurt us anymore.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” Grian shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “They…they’re more powerful than any god that waits for us after death.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to take them on with all the fury of the gods combined then, shall we?” Pearl folded her arms. “I’m not going to abandon the mission because I’m scared of them. I’ve paid my price, and it was devastating to me. I don’t know what they did to you when you promised them your devotion, but judging by how terrified you are right now, it wasn’t good. I’m not going to live in fear of them, I’m going to get my revenge. You and I both know they could have wrestled us from death without us giving up something, they chose to make us give up what we loved to be saved, and they didn’t promise that ‘mercy’ to anyone else. They let Jimmy and Martin and Taurtis and BigB and Netty and everyone else that was on that ship drown.”

Grian took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay. I’m not going to be able to convince you away from this, am I?”

“You always knew I was stubborn.” Pearl grinned back at him, though it looked more like a baring of teeth than anything else.

“I’m not going to be able to go anywhere, you’re flock.” Grian huffed. “I’m stuck to you, whether you like it or not.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Griba.” 

“Hello, hello!” The captain, Scar, strode up to them. He certainly lived up to his name, he was covered in scars, the most prominent being the one across his nose. He carried a cane loosely in one hand, and wore a jacket that looked better quality than anything Grian had ever worn. “Pearl, Impulse. And you’re our stowaway, right?”

Grian frowned, but nodded. “That’s me.” 

“Welcome to the crew!” Scar held out a hand to shake, and reluctantly, Grian took it. “I’m glad you’re here with us, my sources tell me you’re very knowledgeable about the Watchers.”

“How do you…” Grian took a step back, looking over at Pearl. “Did you say…?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, she didn’t betray you or anything.” Scar waved a hand dismissively. “I have my ways of knowing things. Anyway, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, you and I.” 

“Yes. I'm sure we will.” Grian forced his voice to sound as pleasant as he could, though he knew Pearl saw through it immediately.

“Excellent!” Scar clapped his hands together excitedly. “Well, I’ve got some captaining to do, so I will see you all tonight for dinner. Oh, and Impulse, change our heading to 120 degrees, alright?”

“You want us to go southeast?” Impulse raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yep.” Scar nodded. “We’re going to have to go through Siren’s Point, but that’s something we’ve done at least a dozen times now, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”

“Well, yeah, we can handle the sirens, I’m just confused about why…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind, I’ve learned not to question you by now. I’ll have the crew get us to 120.”

“Thank you very much, Impulse, I appreciate it.” Scar clapped him on the shoulder, then made his way below deck, to the cabin where Grian and Pearl had spent the night. Had that been his cabin? Grian hadn’t really been paying attention to the space, he hadn’t seen anything that stuck out as a captain’s, but maybe he’d just missed it. What didn’t make sense was the idea that Scar would have given up his cabin for a stowaway. Pearl had mentioned that the crew rotated, and that she was one of the few who was permanent, but was she really so valuable that on her word, the captain would give up his cabin?

“Earth to Griba, you in there?” Pearl waved a hand in front of his eyes, and he blinked, turning his head to look at her. “There you are. You’re a part of the crew now, you’re not gonna be freeloading this ride, and you know how to manage a schooner just fine, so get up in the rigging.”

“Oh, uh, what kind of rig is it?” Grian squinted up against the sun to study the sails.

“Come on, Griba, really?” Pearl punched him in the shoulder. “You know ships, you tell me what rig it is.” 

“Well, obviously it’s a fore-aft, but I can’t tell if it’s a gaff-rigged or a Bermuda.” Grian gave her an annoyed look, then smacked her with his wing, nearly knocking her over.

“Use those wings of yours and get up there!” She laughed, stumbling until she regained her footing. “Go on! Get up there!” 

Grian rolled his eyes, but launched himself into the air, purposefully sending a burst of air at Pearl before looping around the jibs and up towards the foremast, studying the various ropes and sail layouts, piecing together how it worked.

It was gaff-rigged, like he had initially assumed, though the layout was slightly different than it had been on the Watcher’s Bargain. Already, there were crew climbing around the mast and jibs, tying and retying knots, shifting the sails to catch the wind in the most optimal way. They were struggling a bit against it, as they kept trying to veer more west, and it was clear that they needed help.

With a deep breath, Grian pushed up his sleeves and got to work.

Chapter Text

Grian had been dreading going to bed the entire day. He had been working the rigging for most of it, even when it really didn’t need it, and had spent the rest of his time flying in loops around the masts and occasionally wandering a bit higher to feel the wind in his feathers. But now he was back on the deck of the ship, hovering behind Pearl anxiously as she finished up a conversation about the inventory of the ship with Impulse. 

The problem was that now that he was conscious and not neck deep in instincts, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep in the captain’s cabin anymore, and he would have to sleep with the crew. On the Watcher’s Bargain , that meant hammocks and bodies all crammed together. Hammocks had always been terrible for his wings, they were uncomfortable and impossible to maneuver in a way that wouldn’t leave him sore the next morning. 

It also meant no nest. And that was a problem for his newly awakened flock bond, which demanded he protect Pearl while they slept. Already, he could feel the chirps building in his throat just thinking about being separated from her, and if he tried to go to bed alone, he would probably keep everyone awake with his stupid bird noises. 

On his last ship, they had eventually gotten rid of the hammocks and just made a massive nest on the floor for him and Jimmy, but that wasn’t going to happen on this brand new ship. There was no way they would go out of their way to make him comfortable, not when they weren’t flock, not when they were complete strangers to him.

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.” Pearl gave Impulse a lazy salute. “Come on, Griba, we’ll get you situated.” 

“Um…” Grian began, a very strong start, if you asked him. 

“What’s up?” Pearl asked as she tugged off her jacket, folding it over her arm. 

“I can’t sleep in a hammock, I’ll…my wings…” He shifted them on his back, feathers rustling quietly.

“I’m not gonna put you in a hammock, Grian!” Pearl shook her head. “You forget, I was the one who helped you and Jimmy preen every morning when you slept in them, the state of your feathers was horrible! No, we’re gonna make you a proper nest in the cargo hold. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Grian lightly scratched at the deck, not meeting her eyes. “Yes please.” 

“Alright then, that’s what we’ll do.” Pearl tucked into the crew’s sleeping area, and a few minutes later, she emerged with an armful of bedding, piled so high that it was difficult to see her face from behind it. “Okay birdbrain, let’s make you a nest.” 

Grian chirped happily and took some of her bundle off of her hands, a pleased trill leaving him as he ran his hands over the soft material. It was perfect, it would make the best nest, Pearl was going to be so comfortable!

“Oh no, I recognize that look.” Pearl looked him up and down, before turning around and marching forward. “Alright buddy, come on.”

Grian followed her into the cargo hold, chirruping the entire time as they pushed the crates around to make a small, boxed in area. They then proceeded to spend about thirty minutes arranging and rearranging the blankets and pillows until Grian decided it was satisfactory, flopping down into the middle of it and cooing with delight.

“When was the last time you had a decent nest?” Pearl laughed, lying down next to him. “This really isn’t anything fancy, just a bunch of spare blankets for when the winter storms start rolling over the ocean.” 

Grian cooed again, throwing one of his wings over her and pulling her close. She was in his nest! His nest! He made a nest and Pearl was in it! She helped make the nest! Oh, he was so happy to be with flock again, this was amazing, it was perfect!

“You’re so funny when you’re like this.” Pearl grinned at him, reaching out and flicking his fringe out of his eyes. “Oh, look at you, not a single thought in that head right now.”

Grian tilted his head to one side, confused.

“Go to sleep, you silly bird.” Pearl slung her arm across his waist and closed her eyes, letting out a content sigh. Grian twittered in delight, scooting closer to her, then closed his eyes, letting the pleasant hum of his instincts lure him off to sleep.

-

It was about halfway through the next day that Grian was called into the captain’s cabin. He had been working on adjusting one of the sails when Impulse had hollered his name from the deck. With a grumble, he handed over the rope to the crew member next to him, then glided down to the deck, landing neatly a few feet away from the first mate.

“What’s going on?”

Impulse made a grand gesture towards the captain’s cabin. “You have been summoned! Scar wants to talk to you.”

“Oh.” A wave of nerves washed over him, and he scratched at the deck lightly. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.” Impulse reassured him. “Just a chat.”

“Right.” Grian took a deep breath, then marched over to the cabin.

“Good luck!” Impulse called after him as he knocked on the door.

“Come in, come in!” A voice responded from behind it, and he cautiously opened it, revealing the cabin that he had slept in his second night on the ship. Now that he wasn’t delirious from his instincts and exhaustion, he could see that it was definitely a captain’s cabin. There was a table bolted to the ground covered in maps and charts, and the walls were equally covered in diagrams and patterns, forming a strange form of wallpaper. Tucked away in the corner was a bed, unmade, blankets and pillows strewn about it. Sitting in a chair, also bolted to the floor, at the table, was Scar, captain of the Wandering Trader and the man who had summoned him.

“Ah, Grian, just the man I was looking for!” Scar attempted to push himself to his feet using the table, then shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not going to be able to stand for you today. Anyway, how are you? Adjusting to life on the sea once again?”

“I’m…fine.” Grian stepped inside the cabin, but left the door open, just in case. 

“Good, excellent!” Scar leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Well, I’ll just jump straight into it, I won’t keep you waiting with small talk. I need to know everything you know about the Watchers. How they work, where they live, how to kill them. Everything.” 

Grian froze, feathers puffing up. He’d almost forgotten that that was the current mission of the crew of the Wandering Trader . He’d gotten lost in his work, he’d gotten used to the monotony of tying ropes and flying from mast to mast. 

“A little bird told me,” Scar continued. “That you know a lot about them. That you spent some time with them, before you managed to get away. That you killed one.”

“...who told you?” Grian curled his hands into fists, taking another deep breath.

“It’s not important.” Scar tapped his fingers against the table. “Right now, what’s important is that you tell me about the Watchers. You made a deal with them, right? Just like Pearl did?”

“Maybe.” Grian’s wings twitched anxiously, and he silently fought with them to hold still. 

“Pearl didn’t spend very much time around the Watchers, even with her time spent on the Watcher’s Bargain. From what I’ve gathered, you were one of their favorites. They always spoke with you, above the others.” Scar leaned back in his seat again. “I’ve gotten all the information I could from Pearl about how they work. I know how the deals pan out, I know about the tattoos, I know that they like a good show. But I need more. And you have that information.” 

“What will you give me for it?” Grian challenged, lifting his chin. He wasn’t really sure why he was so protective of the knowledge, it wasn’t like he wanted to keep the Watchers safe, but…something in him refused to just give up the information so easily.

“Permission to stay on my ship?” Scar folded his arms. “You’re a stowaway. I could have you thrown overboard.” 

He would immediately sink to the bottom of the sea. Sure, he could swim decently well, but if he were being thrown overboard, they would most likely bind his wings. They would become dead weight, and he would struggle to stay afloat for about an hour before giving up and drowning. 

“The Watchers aren’t human. They aren’t hybrids either, or animals.” Grian swallowed, clenching his fists even tighter so they wouldn’t shake. “They are gods. They can manipulate any element that they want, be it the waves or death itself. There were two of them when I was…when I made my deal. That doesn’t mean there aren’t more, I’m almost certain there are, but they’re spread out. I killed one by clawing out their eyes. Sight is their biggest ability, without it, they bleed out and die almost immediately. The sea is where they’re the strongest, they only really have to manipulate one thing, and that’s the water. The safest place to be is on land, in a busy enough place that it’s difficult to see anything clearly.”

“Anything else?” Scar asked, visibly turning his words over in his head. 

“That’s all that I care to remember.” Grian grit his teeth. “Was that suitable enough for you?”

“That was great, thank you.” Scar grinned at him, and it seemed almost like he was taking pleasure from Grian’s frustration. “You’re free to go now.”

It took every ounce of strength in Grian’s tiny frame not to slam the door behind him as he left. He hated thinking about the Watchers, and he despised talking about them even more. They had made his life miserable, they had torn him apart, and now that terror that he had felt was being used as a tool to go straight back to them. They were literally sailing into the Watchers’ hands with this mission, and for what? To bring back proof that they existed? Was his life not enough? Was Pearl’s?

“You okay, Grian?” Impulse asked, looking up from a book he was writing in. “Did your chat go okay?”

Grian huffed, rattling his wings irritably. 

“Ah, I see.” Impulse closed his book with the pen still inside of it. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He grumbled, looking out off at the sea. “That’s the problem, talking about it.” 

“I think I have a solution for you.” Impulse nodded to himself. “Yeah, follow me.”

Grian, not to let his curiosity go unsated, followed him across the deck and towards the stern, just below the fore staysail. Sitting underneath it, a large mechanical contraption in his lap, was a man who absolutely did not look like a sailor. For one thing, he had a moustache, and only a moustache. No beard, no scruff, just a moustache. What kind of sailor had a neatly tailored moustache? It was black, just like his hair, and in the glaring sunlight, it looked almost like ink. 

His clothes were also very unlike a sailor’s. It looked almost like a suit, with a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up into cuffs, and a vest pulled on over it. His trousers were ordinary, thank void, but they were covered in some kind of grease, no doubt from the thing in the man’s lap. 

The only word that Grian could come up with to describe it was “mechanical”. It had gears and cogs and levers, but he couldn’t discern a purpose out of it, or even a vague idea of what it was. It just looked like a block of moving parts to him.

“Grian, meet Mumbo, our ship’s head engineer and weapons expert.” Impulse declared, startling the moustached man so badly that he dropped a tool. “Mumbo, meet Grian, our stowaway turned crew member.” 

“Oh, uh, hello!” The moustached man, Mumbo, picked up the tool he had dropped, smiling sheepishly up at them. “Nice to meet you, Grian.”

“Nice to meet you too?” Grian gave Impulse a confused look. “What…?”

“Ask him about what he’s making.” Impulse gestured to the box thing in Mumbo’s lap.

“...Okay…” Grian frowned at him, then sat down on the deck in front of Mumbo so that he could see the contraption better. The closer look did not do him any good. He could see more detail, yes, but he still didn’t really understand anything about mechanics. It was like looking at one of Tango’s designs. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s…” Mumbo trailed off, thinking for a second then shrugged. “Well, I haven’t come up with a name for it yet. But essentially, it’s going to be able to predict the weather.”

“Nothing can predict the weather.” Grian folded his arms. “Only aching bones and red skies.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend!” Mumbo patted the top of his machine proudly. “This will be able to predict all sorts of weather when I’m done with it! It gathers information about the air quality and the waves and computes it, and once it’s finished putting together the data, it tells me what it’s going to be like over the next few days.” 

“Days?” Grian shook his head. “No way. Nothing can tell the weather past a handful of hours, not even red skies.” 

“Well, this will, just you wait and see.” Mumbo began tinkering with one of the pistons along its side, squinting at it to make sure he was adjusting it right.

“I don’t believe you.” Grian decided.

“What?” Mumbo spluttered. “Why not? It’s perfectly sound, I’ve spent months gathering information about weather patterns, once I plug it all into here, it’ll say exactly what conditions will be like down to the hour.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Well then, I don’t know what else to tell you, mate.” Mumbo shook his head. “It’ll work, and it’ll work amazingly.” 

“Hmmm.” Grian leaned over to peer at the mechanisms. “What do all these things actually do?”

Mumbo perked up. “Well, you see, it’s actually quite simple…”

When Grian went to bed that night, his head was swimming with information. Mumbo had talked for ages, answering any question that he asked. Some questions that he had asked were, in no particular order; “What would happen if you took out a piston?” (the entire thing would fall apart and maybe explode), “Have you ever tried making prosthetics?” (yes, it did not go well), and “Have you ever made a gun and can you make me one?” (yes, I have, and no, I am not giving you a gun).

He curled up against Pearl, letting out a soft sigh, and she wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“Did you have a good day today?” 

“Mmhmm.” He nodded sleepily into her shoulder. “I met Mumbo and talked with him for ages. He was pretty cool.”

“Yeah, he is.” Pearl agreed. “I’m glad you like him.”

“Yeah.” Grian draped a wing over both of them and, with his flock by his side and a nest all around him, comfortably drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, everyone! We’re almost to Siren’s Point, that means we need all hands on deck and ready!” 

Grian let out a low grumble and buried his face into Pearl’s shirt sleeve, wings curling around them to block out the light that gently filtered down through the stairway. Pearl mumbled something illegible back at him, clearly just as thrilled as he was to be getting up.

“Good morning, nest dwellers!” Impulse called down into the little boxed in space that they had created. “Time to get up! Grian has a decision to make!”

“...I what?” Grian lifted one of his wings halfheartedly, squinting up at him. 

“We’re coming up on Siren’s Point.” Impulse repeated, sitting down on the edge of the crate, his feet dangling a few inches off of the ground. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, a point on the map where the sirens like to congregate. We don't know why they do yet, but it’s in the way of one of our major trade routes.” 

“Why don’t you just go around them?” Grian dropped his wing back down again, and Pearl let out a soft “oof” as it collided with her chest, knocking the air out of her. 

“We could, but it takes too much time.” Impulse shrugged. “Besides, we’ve figured out how to get past them easily enough, and it provides a good learning opportunity to anyone who wants it. Which brings me to your decision. Do you want to listen to the sirens?”

“Listen to–are you mad?” Grian sat up, his wing smacking Pearl in the face as she did so. “That’s a death sentence!” 

“Not if you’re tied to the mast.” Impulse spread his hands. “I’ve listened to their song twice, Pearl’s listened once.” 

“That was all I needed.” Pearl sat up, rubbing her nose. “Griba, you need to tell your wings to calm down.” 

“Sorry.” Grian apologized quickly. “Are the stories true then? Do they actually give you knowledge?” 

“Kind of, yeah.” Impulse shrugged again. “They tell you what you want most in the world. Sometimes, you don’t know what you want. The sirens will tell you. Also, sometimes they slip up and tell you extra clues and hints to things you’re working towards. For example, our mission. Scar’s going to be tied to the mast, we’ve never gone through Siren’s Point without him listening to them.”

“I did it because I was curious as to what they’d say.” Pearl ran her fingers through her hair, carefully avoiding her antenna as she detangled it. “I’d say it’s worth it, but I’ll never do it again.” 

“What did they tell you?” Grian asked, tilting his head to one side.

“I’d rather not share that.” Pearl nudged him lightly with her shoulder, then stood up. “How long have we got until we get there?”

“About an hour.” Impulse got up as well, climbing back out of the crates. “Two of the new hires are going to listen, the other two have decided not to. If Grian chooses to, we’ll have four tied to the mast.”

“Alright, that should be plenty to man the ship.” Pearl scrambled over the crates, then held out a hand to Grian to help him out as well. “Do we have enough wax?” 

“We have plenty, don’t worry about that.” Impulse patted her shoulder. “So, Grian, initial thoughts? Yes, no?”

Grian hummed, thinking about it. On the one hand, he was pretty sure what he wanted most in the world, and he didn’t need to find that out from the sirens. On the other hand, he was really curious to see what they would say and how they would say it. Back on the first hand, he had heard that the siren song could drive people mad. He didn’t want to go crazy. But back to the second hand, he wasn’t sure he could resist the temptation to listen. He might try to take out the wax early and then he would probably be lured to his death. 

“Look at that thinking face.” Pearl grinned. “He’s in. He wants to listen.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Grian shook his head in defeat. “I want to hear what they have to say.” 

-

“Okay, is that comfortable for you?” Pearl asked, taking a step back.

Grian shifted his wings around in the sleeves, hating the way that they were confined but knowing that it would help keep both him and the others tied to the mast safe. “It’ll work.”

“Alright, go ahead and sit down and I’ll tie you.” She grabbed a bundle of rope, and Grian sat perfectly still while she looped it around him and the mast, as well as several metal loops in the deck. “I’ve done this a few times before, you should be safe. You won’t be able to get out of this.” 

“Okay.” He stretched out his talons. “You should probably tie these too, so I don’t cut through the rope.” 

“Good idea.” Pearl nodded, then neatly tied his ankles together. “Anything else you can think of?”

Grian shook his head. 

“Alrighty then, I’ll be manning the ship, but once we pull out, I’ll come cuddle with you. You’re gonna need it.” Pearl ruffled his hair, then strode away down the deck, leaving him behind with the two other crewmates who had decided to listen in. 

Scar strode over to them with a bright smile on his face, though if Grian looked closely, he thought he could see some apprehension hidden in his eyes. He didn’t comment on it though, instead watching as the captain sat down against the mast and tied himself down, tightening the ropes to what looked like a painful degree.

“Impulse, come see if I’m strapped in enough!” He called across the ship, and a moment later, Impulse jogged over. 

“You’re good.” He said, after double checking the ropes. “You’re not gonna get away from us this time.” 

“This time?” Grian asked, meaning to only think it but instead saying it out loud. 

“Scar here always seems to wiggle out of the ropes somehow.” Impulse patted Scar on the shoulder. “I’ve had to chase him across the deck and even through the ocean a few times.”

“I’ve only stayed tied to the mast twice, out of about a dozen or so times.” Scar grinned over at him. “I’m surprisingly nimble, all things considered.” 

Grian glanced at the ropes tying them down a bit more nervously. He trusted that Pearl had done a good job at keeping him from escaping, but at the same time, he was a fighter. Martyn had made a joke once about it being impossible to keep him down for long, and it was true. He could find his way out of anything. Even the Watchers. 

Could the rope really hold him long enough to get away from the sirens?

“Okay, I’m gonna block my ears now.” Impulse tightened a rope on one of the other crewmates, then stood up. “You just want us to keep following the route, right?”

“Yep. Don’t let me tell you anything else!” Scar instructed.

“Will do.” Impulse nodded, then jogged back across the deck, no doubt to continue giving orders. 

It was eerie, being on a ship with no conversation. Sailors would pass each other and nod, rather than call out a greeting. Orders were given through gestures rather than shouting. The only sound was that of creaking timbers and rustling sails, and the quiet lap of the water beneath them. That was, until the sirens began to sing. 

Grian had expected it to sound beautiful, notes forming a melody that he should have known, but couldn’t place. He expected gorgeous voices overlapping and calling out, begging for him to join them, enchanting him into leaping over the side of the ship.

Instead, the song was haunting and discordant. Every note seemed to clash with another, creating an almost violent contradiction within it, stirring up such strong feelings of unease that he felt like he was going to throw up. 

When they drew close enough to hear words, rather than just sounds, he almost did. 

Join us, join us, you know you want to. You’re a beautiful bird, such lovely feathers, designed perfectly for the sea. Come on, join us, your wings would look so pretty under the waves.

You are young for a sailor, too young for a pirate. You should be back at home, safe and warm, your flock all around you. What are you doing out here, little bird?

Your flock is gone. Or at least, that’s what you think. But no, your flock is here! Your flock waits down here, under the waves, beneath the surface! You remember their names, don’t you? B and Martyn and Jimmy and Taurtis and Netty? They are here! They are here, and they love you, and they want you back. Don’t you want your flock back?

He was shaking now, he could feel every muscle in his body trembling. “They’re dead. The only flock I have now is Pearl. You’re lying to me.”

It’s not a lie! They are right here! Right below this ship! All you have to do is join us, and you will be with them again! Pearl has already jumped and joined them, you are the only one missing! 

“You’re lying!” Grian shouted, trying to move his earflaps to block out their sound. He found that he couldn’t move them, he was paralyzed, he had to listen. He had no choice.

Listen, listen! Your flock is calling!

Grian? 

No. No no no no no no no. It’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s not him, it’s not Jimmy, Jimmy is dead, Jimmy is gone, he is gone–

Grian, it’s me! It’s me, I’m here! It’s me, Jimmy! Come on, I know you can hear me! 

“No!” He screamed, wrestling with the ropes around him, trying to bring his hands up to his ears. “No, you’re wrong! You’re dead! He’s gone!” 

No, I’m not dead! I’m right here, I’m waiting for you! I’ve got a nest built just for us, we can be flock again! I missed you so much, Grian, I missed you so much. Come on, come into the sea, come see me and Martyn and Pearl and Taurtis! We’re waiting for you! We want to see you again! 

Grian sobbed, struggling against the ropes. Already, he could feel his instincts clawing at his mind, demanding he be reunited with his flock. His wings pulled helplessly against the sleeves that bound them, his talons scratched uselessly against the deck, he was stuck, he was trapped, and Jimmy was still singing–

Grian, please, don’t leave me again. Don’t leave us. I know what you did. We all do. You abandoned us. You made a deal, and now we’re stuck beneath the waves, waiting for you to join us again.

“I didn’t–I didn’t–” 

It’s okay though! We’ll forgive you, we all will, if you just come back. Don’t betray us again, don’t leave us again. Stay with your crew, stay with your flock! Stay with us! Please, Grian, we loved you! We loved you and we will love you again if you just come back! Come back!
“Please–” Grian struggled against the ropes, a desperate chirp ripping its way out of his throat. “Jimmy!” 

Grian! Grian, come back! Grian! You can’t leave us again! You can’t! Grian!

Someone was holding his hand, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. He squeezed back, letting out another broken chirp.

Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me again! Grian, please! Grian!

He was crying. He was crying, and chirping, and screaming, and he couldn’t stop. His throat was hoarse, his muscles burned from fighting, his head and heart were both pounding in time. He slumped against the mast as the siren song faded away, Jimmy’s desperate voice left behind, and the only sound filling the air once more was the creaking ship and the quiet lap of the waves against it.

There was still a hand in his, the grip lessened, a thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. He managed to scrape together enough energy to turn his head and see that Scar, the captain of the ship, was holding his hand in his own, his eyes closed and tear tracks running down his face. His chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and his hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat, but he still held Grian’s hand gently. 

Grian let his head slump back down and closed his eyes again, a soft and broken warble leaving his lips, despair over leaving behind flock. Tears slipped endlessly down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt, and he knew he would regret losing the water later, but he couldn’t stop it. 

At some point, after the sirens had long been left behind, voices began to join the sounds of the ship, dispelling the unsettling silence that had lingered beneath the sails. He could vaguely hear Impulse and Pearl among them, though he couldn’t manage enough energy to make out exactly what they were saying. Scar was still holding his hand.

“Everyone okay?” That was Impulse, he was close to them now, probably in front of Scar.

“That was an intense one, you took a while to sail through there, didn’t you?” Scar’s voice was rough. 

“Sorry, they kept swimming in front of the bow, we didn’t want to hit any of them, even if they did want to lead us to our deaths.” A rustling sound accompanied Impulse’s words, and his voice got closer. He must have sat down on the deck with them, or something similar. 

“Okay, good. Good.” Scar laughed hollowly. “That was…you never really get used to that.”

“I can’t imagine so, no.” 

A rope fell against Grian and Scar’s joined hands, and he flinched at the sudden, surprising contact.

“Hey Grian, you okay?” Impulse asked softly, and the ropes around him loosened, just a bit. He chirped quietly back in response, unable to put together the words he needed to reply. “Alright. Pearl will be over in just a second, she’s manning the helm right now. I’m gonna trade off with her after I get you four off the mast.”

“Tell Pearl to get a lot more nesting material.” Scar coughed a few times, then continued. “He’s going to need it.” 

“Gotcha.” The ropes holding Grian to the mast fell away, and he nearly fell forward, only to be caught by a pair of strong hands. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” 

“I’ll hold him while you get Pearl.” Scar offered, and Grian was leaned up against something solid. “Can I tell you a secret, Grian? I said that you never get used to the sirens, but I don’t think that was right. No, you don’t get used to them, but you learn how to tolerate what they say a lot better. Oh man, I remember the first time I listened to them, I think I was out of commission for like a week. It was awful, Grian, awful I tell you! I completely forgot how bad it was the first time around. You probably feel miserable, huh?”

Grian trilled a soft response, and a hand reached around his back and shakily tugged his wings out of their sleeves. They flopped out around him, and he pulled them weakly around himself, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Scar asked, a hint of concern in his voice. Grian nodded, then shook his head. He didn’t really feel cold, he could feel the sun beating down on them, blazingly hot, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking.

“Grian? Oh, buddy, it’s okay, I’m here.” Pearl. Pearl was here. Oh, Pearl was here. Grian chirped pathetically, blinking open his eyes to see her crouched in front of him, arms open. 

“We have to stop starting all of our cuddles like this.” Pearl shook her head, then pulled him into a hug, cradling him gently in her arms. “They were bad, huh?” 

Grian nodded into her shoulder, warbling quietly.

“Thanks, Scar.” Pearl rubbed circles in between his wings, her fingers gently brushing down the feathers. “Do you need help getting back to your cabin?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you. If you could just give me a hand getting up, that’s all I need.” Scar replied easily.

“Alright.” Pearl shifted Grian over to her side, then stood, carrying him with her as she did so. “Griba, you have not been eating properly, you are way too light. Here you go, Scar.” 

“Thank you very much, Pearl, I appreciate it. I appreciate you! I should really acknowledge that more, you’re a very good crewmate and an even better friend.” 

“Why thank you, Scar, and you’re very welcome.” Pearl hoisted Grian up higher in her arms. “I’ve got to get this bird brain to the nest now, you probably won’t see me until tomorrow. I know I’ve said that a lot, but this poor guy has not been taking care of his bird side at all, his instincts are going absolutely haywire this week.”

“It isn’t nesting season, is it?” 

“Oh, no, Grian usually nests in September. If he were nesting right now, he wouldn’t be coherent at all. I can go over the details with you later, but I genuinely need to get this guy to bed or he might start having a full on breakdown. Get yourself some rest, alright Scar? I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodbye, Pearl, until the morning!” 

“Okay, come on Griba, let’s get you to that nest.”

Chapter Text

Grian leaned up against the railing of the ship, staring out across the dark sea. The stars overhead were speckled across the night sky, creating a display that could never be rivaled, clusters of twinkling lights shining brightly against the night. His wings hung by his sides, rustling softly in the breeze that danced across the deck. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what the sirens had said to him. How perfectly they had mimicked Jimmy, how they had manipulated his instincts until every muscle in his body demanded that he leap into the sea. How Jimmy–no, the sirens–had said he had abandoned them. 

He had, hadn’t he? He could have made a different trade, could have traded his life for those of his crewmembers, his devotion to save them. He could have drowned with the knowledge that they would be safe. Instead, he had to live with the fact that his flock was dead, and it was because of him. Pearl had made it out, but the Watchers had always liked her, so it was no wonder. Like she’d said, there was a chance B had made it out, and maybe even Netty, but Martyn and Jimmy? Not a chance. The Watchers had probably personally dragged them down into the depths. 

And he could have stopped that from happening. He could have, but he didn’t. He got too scared, too panicked, and he saved himself rather than the ones he loved. He was selfish. He was selfish and it had costed him everyone he had ever cared about, everyone except Pearl. 

“I can hear you thinking from my cabin.” A voice spoke from a few feet away, amused. It was Scar, leaning on his cane, a small smile on his face. “Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.” Grian shrugged, turning his eyes back to the horizon. 

“You’re thinking about what the sirens told you.” Scar stated, rather than asked, moving to stand next to him. “Where’s Pearl?”

“She’s in the nest, still asleep.” Grian took a deep breath, the salt in the air filling his nose and lightly stinging the back of his throat. “And yeah, I am thinking about them.”

“I remember my first time listening to the sirens.” Scar folded his arms on the railing, cane held loosely in one hand. “I don’t think I was ready for what they told me. It messed me up for a while. I’m still not sure that I’m totally fixed from it either.” 

“What did they tell you?” Grian found himself asking, taking his eyes off of the sea to look at him. He was still looking out at the distance, green eyes almost brown in the darkness. There was a weight behind them that contrasted his normal sunny attitude, or at least, what Grian had seen of it. He…hadn’t really had that many interactions with Scar. 

“They tell me lots of things.” He picked at a splinter in the railing. “That I’m not cut out to be a captain. That I’m not cut out to be anything. That I’m not doing enough. That I’m doing too much. They promise me that if I just leap over the side, that…all my worries will go away. Wow, that got depressing really fast, but I guess you asked.”

“I’m sorry.” Grian semi-consciously lifted a wing, letting it hover behind Scar but not quite touch him, blocking the chill breeze. “You didn’t have to answer.” 

“You didn’t trust me.” Scar shrugged. “And you still don’t, not really. I didn’t finish talking about the sirens. I talked about not being good enough, and that if I just give up, everything will go away. But that’s not really what they tell me. Not after they get inside my brain and pick it apart like ants. No, no, they dig deep, and they tell me that what I want more than anything.” He held out his hand, palm up, and a wisp of bright blue light burst into existence, swirling in the air just above it. “I’m a vex, and that gives me a certain amount of power. But it’s not enough.” He closed his fist, and the light extinguished. “It’s not enough to protect the people I care about. They promise me more.” 

“I thought you were human.” Grian stared at him with open surprise. “I had no idea.”

“Me? Human?” Scar snorted. “No, I would never, that’s horrible.”

“I don’t know very much about vex.” Grian admitted, wrapping his arms around himself and looking back out over the sea. “But I know that they’re powerful. Why…why would you need more?”

“Because while I have a lot of power, there’s still a lot I can’t do.” Scar smiled bitterly. “I can’t fix Pearl’s wings. I can’t get rid of my disability. I can’t save you from your debt.”

“How…” Grian gripped the railing. “You don’t know if it’s been resolved or not.”

“I’ve known since the day you stepped on my ship.” Scar shook his head. “The mark on your wrist is still active.”

“No it’s not.” Grian took a step back, pulling his sleeve back to see the tattoo waiting there, the eye lifeless and still. “It’s not active anymore.”

“Grian, I can assure you, it is still active and the Watchers are coming for you.” Scar turned around to face him. “There’s a reason I let you stowaway. They know you’re here and they’re coming. And we’re going to fight them.”

“Are you mad?” Grian spluttered, yanking his sleeve back down. “No! Even if you were right, which you’re not , they’ll kill us all out here in the open sea! There’s only one thing they need to control out here to sink this ship, and that’s water!”

“We’re not going to fight them in the water, silly.” Scar grinned, his teeth shining white in the starlight. “There’s an island two days away from here, we’ve set course straight to it. There’s too much to work with on land, too much to easily control. Then it’s just a matter of popping out their eyeballs and we’re home free!” 

“Why are you even doing this?” Grian’s wings flared behind him. “Money? There’s no amount of money in the world that can pay for this! You’re trying to kill a god!” 

“You succeeded, didn’t you?” Scar gestured to him. “You’re a bit traumatized, sure, but you’re alive! As for payment, well, let’s just say there’s a little bit more in store than just money.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Grian threw his hands in the air. “Why are you like this? Why risk everything for this? You don’t make sense, Scar! Why don’t you make sense?” 

“You should get some sleep, Grian.” Scar pushed himself up off the railing, using his cane to balance himself. “You’ve got a busy morning tomorrow. Lots to do, lots to see. And in…about fifty hours or so, this will all be over.” 

“That’s not a comforting thought.” Grian forced his wings to settle on his back. 

“I know.” Scar shrugged. “But hey, it can be something to look forward to! Goodnight, Grian.” 

“Goodnight, Scar.” Grian practically spat in return, storming back below the deck and back to his nest. Pearl was still asleep, curled up in a bundle of blankets and pillows, and with a soft chirp, he snuggled up next to her. She stirred a bit, slinging an arm across him, and he warbled gratitude in return. 

“You okay…?” She slurred, still half asleep.

“Mmhmm.” Grian nodded, tucking his head against her shoulder. 

“Mkay. G’night.” 

“Night, Pearl.”

-

“Morning Mumbo, whatcha doing?” Grian poked his head out from under the sail, talons gripping the mast to allow him to hang at a 90 degree angle and startle Mumbo.

“Oh my gosh, Grian, hi!” Mumbo jumped, nearly dropping the bundle of cloth and metal in his arms. “Goodness me, okay, oh man. You scared me!”

“Oops.” Grian leapt down onto the deck, peering at the contraption he was holding. “What’s that?”

“Pearl’s wings!” Mumbo declared proudly. “I’ve made some adjustments to them since last time, and they should work perfectly now!”

“You said that last time, Mumbo.” Pearl finished knotting down one of the sails, then ambled over to them. “It took forever for you guys to haul me out of the sea and we nearly lost the wings.” 

“That was…a miscalculation. But they’re fine now!” Mumbo held out the bundle and she took it, spreading out the metal spokes and stretching the cloth across them. “Plus, this time, you’ll have Grian with you! I figured he could fly alongside you and make sure nothing goes wrong!”

“I can’t really carry people when flying, you know that, right?” Grian tilted his head to one side, watching as Pearl continued to set the wings up. “I can carry a lot of weight, being a seabird and all, but not a whole ‘nother person.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing these are gonna work this time!” Mumbo declared, though he looked a bit more nervous now. 

“It’s a good thing I can swim.” Pearl muttered under her breath, though she was grinning. “Grian, give me a hand getting this on my back, will you? You have to line it up with my wings.”

“Got it.” Grian nodded, taking the now put together contraption and examining them while Pearl took off her jacket, stretching the stubs of her wings in the sun. “I have no idea how these work.”

“Oh, it’s actually quite simple–” Mumbo began, but Pearl punched him in the arm.

“It’s not and you know it.” She grabbed one of the straps of the wings and slung it around her shoulder, and Grian helped her slide on the other half before slotting her actual wing between the metal spokes, being careful not to jostle the fragile tissue. “Grian, there should be a latch on the left you need to undo, that’ll help it fit on better.”

“I see it.” Grian adjusted the wings, and Mumbo stepped around to help him. Together, they were able to get them correctly set, and now that it was in place, it was a lot easier to tell what they were. 

“Alright, you’ve got it all set?” Pearl asked, and Mumbo nodded. “Let’s give this a shot then, shall we?”

The wings lifted and spread out seemingly on their own, though Grian could see that it was because of the small stubs of her wings guiding the rest of the contraption to move. They weren’t as pretty as Pearl’s old wings, it was steel and canvas stretched out to mimic what was once there, but they were wings. 

“I thought you said you were bad at prosthetics.” Grian elbowed Mumbo, not taking his eyes off the wings.

“I am. This is quite impressive for me, actually.” Mumbo replied excitedly.

Pearl flexed the wings, swinging them back and forth, testing how they stretched and collapsed, then lowered them. “They work wonderfully here on the deck. Grian, do you wanna go for a fly?”

“I would love to.” Grian grinned, spreading his own wings. In unison, they both beat their wings, sending them flying into the air. Grian immediately swooped around Pearl, sticking close by, just in case, but she was doing incredibly. There was a massive smile on her face as she continued to beat her wings, going higher and higher, until they crested the mainmast and flew above the ship.

“Come on, Griba, I’ll race you to the bow!” Pearl cheered, tucking her wings in and diving. Grian followed her, chirping excitedly, quickly passing her up and looping around the spike bowsprit. She clumsily mimicked the move, laughing as she wobbled through the air.

“I’m a bit out of practice!” She admitted, spreading her wings and letting the air currents catch them and lift her up. 

“You couldn’t beat me before, you won’t beat me now!” Grian did a small loop around her, careful not to clip her wings with his own. “Come on, the currents are better up higher!”

They both shot into the air, and a few moments later, they were both circling around the ship, just below the cloud layers. Pearl was grinning from ear to ear, and so was Grian. The last time that he’d flown with someone had been nearly a year ago, before everything had gone wrong. Being up in the air with someone again was…it was incredible. 

“Do you wanna do a course run?” Pearl asked mischievously, and Grian practically lit up.

“Same course as normal?” He flicked his wings, turning himself upright. “Same ship, same basic course?”

“Yep.” Pearl nodded, doing a small circle in the air in preparation. “I'm sure you remember it perfectly.”

“How could I forget? I’ve never lost a run.” He adjusted his wings automatically with the wind, a thrill running through him as it ran through his feathers. “Ready?”

“On three.” Pearl angled herself, squinting down at the ship. “One. Two. Three!”

They both dove in unison, wings tucked tightly against them as they plunged down towards the Wandering Trader , eyes narrowed against the wind. Grian heard Mumbo yelp in terror as they plummeted, no doubt thinking that something had gone wrong. At the last possible second, they both threw out their wings, swooping around the spike bowsprit twice before shooting out in the direction of the stern, taking a quick detour to do a figure eight around the two masts, dodging between the masts easily. 

Grian let out a whoop of excitement, then put on a burst of speed, pulling in front of Pearl. He slapped the top of the mainmast, then dove towards the wheel, following the line of the main sail the entire way down. Pearl shouted from behind him and he cackled, throwing his wings open just before hitting the deck and grabbing the wheel, making sure not to move it as he did so.

“I win! I told you, I never lose these!” He cheered, dancing around on the deck as Pearl landed next to him, wings neatly folding on her back. 

“And you’re always so humble about it too.” She laughed. “I missed doing those.” 

“Oh goodness me, oh my goodness, are you okay?” Mumbo stumbled up to the deck, breathing heavily, an anxious look on his face. “You just dropped out of the sky, I thought something had gone wrong!”

“Everything’s perfect, Mumbo.” Pearl clapped him on the shoulder. “The wings work amazingly. Grian and I were just doing a run of the course.” 

“The course?” Mumbo looked between the two of them, still not comprehending.

“Back on our old ship, me, Pearl, and Jimmy came up with a course around the ship.” Grian explained, puffing up his feathers proudly. “We’d go up pretty high, and when we said go, we’d dive. Then we’d do a loop around the bowsprit, a figure eight around the two masts, hit the top of the mainmast, then grab the wheel. I have yet to be beaten.”

“Jimmy came close back before.” Pearl pointed out, and the reminder slowed the mood slightly. 

“Yeah. I was still faster though.” Grian frowned, then slapped the back of her head with his wing. “Hey, no making this sad, you’re souring my victory!” 

“How about I challenge that victory? I’m still getting used to these new wings, I bet I’ll beat you the second time around.” Pearl folded her arms, lifting her chin. 

“You’re on.” Grian spread his wings, and they both took off once more.

Chapter Text

“Griba! Griba, wake up, it’s your turn on watch!” 

Grian grumbled, pulling his wings over his head. Why was Pearl disturbing his sleep? He’d been having a great dream about flying, with all of his flock around him. He wanted to go back to it.

“Grian, you lazy bird, get up!” A hand pulled his wing down and he blinked up grumpily at Pearl. “Come on, wake up, it’s your turn. I’m going to bed, but you need to get out.”

“Okay, okay.” Grian yawned, stretching both his arms and wings, nearly smacking Pearl in the face. She caught the feathered appendage easily, pushing it away from her.

“Hurry up, Impulse is waiting for you.” 

“I’m going!” Grian stood shakily, then hauled himself out of the nest, talons tapping the floor as he made his way up to the deck. Like Pearl had said, Impulse was waiting at the foremast, holding a lantern in one hand. 

“Good morning.” He grinned, handing him the lantern. “You look very awake right now.”

“I’m so awake, you don’t even know the half of it.” Grian responded, though the effect was ruined by a yawn that split his sentence into two. 

“We won’t have to adjust any of the sails or anything tonight, the winds are calm.” Impulse glanced up at the rigging, nodding to himself. “We’re pretty much just gonna walk around the ship and make sure things are all working just fine.”

“Excellent.” Grian wrapped his wings around himself, holding the lantern up high. It cast long shadows across the sails, giving the air an eerie atmosphere. “Is there anything else we have to do, or are we just supposed to walk around and be a bit spooked by the quiet ship?”

“That’s about it.” Impulse began to walk towards the railing, and Grian followed him. “If you really want to be spooked though, I’ve got a story for you.”

“You can’t scare me with ghost stories, I was taken by the watchers.” He snorted, though his wings were already fluffing up with just the mention of them. 

“Ah, but this one is scarier than the watchers.” Impulse wiggled his eyebrows. “You know how the watchers can control specific elements, but only one at a time? Well, there’s a legend that there’s a spirit that controls the ocean.”

“Oh please, I’ve heard that one before.” Grian rolled his eyes. “The lady of the sea, right? She was murdered by the man she loved, fell into the ocean, and became it? Now she haunts every wave and sinks any ship that threatens the water?”

“You’ve got some details wrong there.” Impulse shook his head. “The lady was dying on her own, and her lover didn’t want to lose her. She told him to kill her, and to put her body to rest in the ocean. He refused at first, he thought he could still save her, but she insisted, and eventually he went through with it. He put his knife through her heart and shattered it, then carried her to the sea. When her blood mixed with the salt, she woke back up again. Her husband tried to take her back on land, but she was unable to leave the water, because she was a part of it now. So he made a vow with her to always stay on the sea.”

“Where did you get all of that from?” Grian asked. This entire part of the story was new to him, he’d never heard anything like it before.

“Shh, I’m not done yet.” Impulse waved a hand. “Because of that vow, the husband lives forever on a ship made of driftwood, and the lady controls the sea to keep him safe. If anyone threatens the husband, she stirs up the ocean and swallows them up, leaving no trace behind. Many ships have been lost to her rage.”

“You act like you know these people personally.” Grian folded his arms. “How do you know all this?”

“Oh, I don’t know them personally, but I know people who do.” Impulse leaned up against the railing, looking out over the calm sea. “It’s also said that she keeps the sirens safe, and in return, the sirens leave the husband alone.”

“How do I get the sirens to like me?” Grian asked, peering over the edge at the softly churning waves. “I’d rather not be sung to death.”

“You just have to meet one I guess. Without dying.” Impulse shrugged, then pushed himself up off the railing. “How about you? Know any good stories?”

“Uhhh…” Grian tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Have you heard about the boogieman? 

“You mean the one that steals little kids when they don’t go to bed on time?” Impulse grinned, but Grian shook his head.

“No, no, the actual boogieman. The boogieman curse.”

“I can’t say I have.” Impulse gestured for him to go on.

“A long time ago, the Watchers created a curse, something to make the world a little bit more exciting for them.” Grian lowered his voice to a murmur, a dangerous edge to it. “They called it the boogieman, and whenever the curse settled down on a mortal, they would be filled with a bloodlust that would not be quelled until they murdered someone innocent and unsuspecting. It would plague their mind, keep them from sleeping, from eating, from doing anything that wouldn’t lead to death. Once they killed someone, the curse would lift, leaving them to face the consequences of their actions. If they didn’t kill anyone however…if they took too long…then the curse would eat at their heart and soul, until nothing remained except an empty corpse.”

“Oh my gosh.” Impulse stared at him in horror. “Please tell me that’s a story and not true.” 

“To be honest, I’m not sure.” Grian spread his hands, the lantern dangling from his fingers as he did so. “When I was with the watchers, they had an entire mural dedicated to it, and occasionally, they would include it among their achievements when they rebuked me, but it could have just been to scare me. I don’t know.” 

“You don’t have to answer this but…how long were you with the watchers for?” Impulse met his eyes, a concerned look on his face. “I mean, they’re the biggest horror story on the sea. And on land, honestly. The fact that you were with them for any length of time and escaped is…incredible.” 

“I was with them for two months.” Grian’s voice trembled slightly, but he pushed back the fear. “It was long enough to break me. The fact that we’re going back…they won’t offer me salvation again. If they know I’m there, they will kill me. And Scar is…he’s gonna use me as bait, I think. The way he’s been talking, it…it scares me.”

“Grian, look at me.” Impulse put his hands on his shoulders. “Scar knows what he’s doing. I’ve been with him on this ship for long enough to know that he will not let anything happen to you. You might not be safe, but you will be okay.” 

A quiet meow came from the deck, and Grian looked down to see Jellie curling around his ankles. He bent down, shaking Impulse’s hands off of his shoulders, and scooped her up, holding her to his chest. She purred, seemingly content with this situation.

“I want to believe you.” Grian scratched behind her ears lightly. “But I don’t. I really don’t. I am not someone special to the crew. I am not valuable beyond being bait. I don’t have a choice here, and I’m not going to survive.”

“Grian, you’re gonna make it. I promise.” Impulse held up a hand. “And you are a part of the crew now. Pearl has vouched up and down for you, and we wouldn’t dare separate you two. We aren’t going to let you die that easily.”

The next words Grian spoke were whispered, filled with unshed tears. “What have I done to earn that kind of loyalty?”

“You didn’t have to do anything.” Impulse pulled him into a hug, lightly sandwiching Jellie between them. “We’ve had what, three days together? Four? That’s all I needed to see who you are. You’re a good person, Grian. We want you to stay on the crew, and we want you to stay alive.”

“Oh.” Grian buried his face into his shoulder, his wings wrapping around them both. “You…you gotta be careful talking like that, Impulse, you’re gonna get stuck in my flock.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Impulse hugged him tighter, not letting go until Grian did. “Right, we’ve been standing here for too long, let’s continue our watch, shall we?”

“Right. Right.” Grian nodded, shuffling Jellie to one arm and wiping away his tears with his sleeve. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Impulse smiled back at him, and it was one of the most genuine looking things Grian had ever seen.

Well then. Looks like he had acquired a new flock member.

Chapter Text

“Land! We’ve made it!” Grian hollered, diving back down the deck. Pearl followed close behind him, landing with a stumble. “Land on the horizon!” 

“Excellent!” Scar clapped his hands, Jellie on his heels as he made his way to the wheel. “Perfect timing, the Watchers will be here in just a few hours.”

“They’re what?!” Grian whipped around, wings nearly clipping Pearl. She ducked beneath them with ease. “Scar, what are you talking about?”

“They’re coming. Soon.” Scar adjusted the wheel, a grin on his face. “Prepare yourself for a sour negotiation.”

“Grian.” Pearl put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to prepare to reach land. We’re going to beach her.” 

“Pearl, we’re all going to die, this is suicide!” Grian turned to face her, panic crossing every feature of his face. “Every time I bring this up, everyone acts all cagey and avoids telling me what’s going on, we’re going to die if we let the watchers reach us.” 

“They’re coming anyway.” Pearl shrugged. “And listen, if anyone can take on the watchers, it’s Scar. He’s more powerful than he’s let on. I’ve seen what he can do. We’re going to be fine.”

“Will people please stop saying that everything is going to be fine and instead give me a concrete answer on how we’re going to survive this?” Grian threw his hands in the air. 

“Gonna be honest, I have no idea.” Pearl grinned, spreading her wings. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.” 

-

The sand was coarse beneath Grian’s talons, and he dug into it nervously, eyes flicking across the beach. The rest of the crew stood around the ship, muttering about the dangers of beaching a vessel and how much of a pain it would be to get it back into the sea.

Scar stood on the beach, the waves lapping against his boots, watching the horizon intently. He held his cane in one hand, the other left free to do whatever it was he was planning. With the wind blowing through his hair and jacket, and the determined expression on his face, he looked like a figure out of a painting.

Impulse, Pearl, and Mumbo were among the rest of the crew, keeping them calm and settling the few arguments that rose due to the tension in the air. Mumbo in particular was setting up some kind of mechanical contraption of his, adjusting knobs and flipping levers.

Quietly, Grian slipped over to the shore, crouching down so that he was leaning over the sea foam. 

“Hey, Lady of the Sea.” He whispered, feeling a little bit ridiculous. “I don't know whether or not the stories are true about you, but I could really use some help today. I think…I think things are going to go really wrong, I don't know what the plan is, but the Watchers are more powerful than people give them credit for. They can manipulate the world however they want, and I don't think Scar's vex magic is enough to counter that. You don't have to do anything, I mean, I don't have the power to make you help us, but…think about it? Please?”

A wave rolled over his feet, the sand swirling around his talons before retreating once more. Retreating and…not returning. The waves had stopped entirely. 

That could either be really good, or really bad.

“Grian, come here!” Scar beckoned, and hesitantly, he stepped over towards him. “Give me your wrist.”

“What?” Grian stepped back again. “Why would I do that?”

“Come on, don't you trust me?” Scar held out his hand.

“No, quite frankly, I don't.” Grian glanced back out at the calm seas. Still nothing.

“Just this once, then.” Scar offered.

“No, Scar, this is the one thing I can't trust anyone with.” Grian shook his head.

“Well then, I'm sorry for this.” Scar lunged forward and grabbed his forearm, lifting his arm up into the air. His fingers slipped up to his wrist, wrapping around his tattoo. 

“Scar, what are you doing?!” Grian yelped, trying to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

“This shouldn't hurt, but it might tingle a little!” Scar replied, and Grian could do nothing but watch as blue light curled around his wrist, and the purple ink of his brand began to glow sickly, just like it had less than a year before.

“Scar?” Grian whispered, wings trembling.

“It's okay.” Scar whispered back, giving him a smile. “You aren't theirs anymore. Not after today.”

“They're here!” Impulse declared, and Scar dropped his wrist. Grian scrambled back away from the shore, whipping his head up to see two humanoid figures walking across the still water towards them. 

They were tall, abnormally so, and their robes rippled purple and white in the breeze, shining in an unnatural way beneath the sun. But the thing that really stood out about them were the eyes. Swirling around them, in every color of the rainbow, were eyes. They weren't human eyes, or hybrid eyes, or any kind of eye that existed on the mortal plane, no, they were nothing but pupils and eyelids, vivid and harsh against those who dared try and look at them directly. 

“Grian, you said that you took out their eyes.” Mumbo murmured, having moved to his side at some point while they waited for the watchers to arrive. “Which eyes?”

Grian didn't dare look away. “Their real ones.”

Scar raised a hand in greeting. “Hello there! I've come to bargain!”

They responded with a voice that seemed to echo and ripple across the seemingly frozen ocean . “You have something of ours.”

“Do I?” Scar asked, making a show of patting down his pockets and looking around the beach. “What do I have?”

“Xelqua.”

Grian let out a shaky breath, biting back a nervous trill. Mumbo stepped a bit closer to him, nudging him with his shoulder, and he chirped quietly in gratitude.

“I don't know what a Xelqua is, could you elaborate for me please?” Scar spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

“You know exactly who he is. He stands in your midst. We can See him.”

“Oh! You must mean Grian.” Scar clapped his hands together. “Well then, I have the deal of a lifetime for you. You can have him back, in exchange for one of your eyes.”

Grian froze, his heart stopping in his chest. Mumbo inhaled sharply next to him, but he barely heard it. Scar had said to trust him, but he was turning him over. He was trading him for an eye like it was nothing. Had this been his plan the entire time? Was he always going to give him up?

“You are an arrogant mortal.” The watchers laughed, and the sound seemed to lower the temperature of the air several degrees. “We will not trade for something that is already ours, much less something of such value.”

“Fine by me, I was going to offer you a different trade involving him afterwards.” Scar shrugged. “Since you don't want to give up your eyes, how about I give you a different offer?”

“What is your bargain, little vex?” 

“Release him from his debt, and you can have my life.” Scar flicked his wrist, blue wisps of magic twisting together into a heart, gently beating. “I hear that life is quite tasty to your kind, is that right?”

What? 

“You would give your life for his?” The watchers stepped up the shoreline, only a few feet away from Scar now. 

“I would. He's a part of my crew now, and I'd like to make that official.” Scar floated the heart across the gap between them. “What do you say? Will you surrender his debt?”

The watcher on the left lifted a hand, feet sinking beneath the water instead of sitting atop it. The sand around Grian shifted, stirred, and before he could react, it wrapped around him like a snake, binding his limbs, forcing his wings against his body and dragging him out towards the sea. 

“Let me go!” He shrieked, fighting against the grip, but he could barely struggle against the crushing weight of the sand around him. He was lifted up into the air, two feet above the sea, hovering between Scar and the watchers, off to the side so as not to interfere directly with the trade.

“You have a deal.” One of the watchers extended a hand to shake, and Grian could do nothing but watch as Scar took it, chin held high. Where their fingers connected, an ashy grey color crept up Scar’s hand, then wrist, then arm. Scar didn’t flinch, meeting the real, corporeal eyes of the watcher as the disease crawled further up his body. He didn’t let go of their hand, didn’t stumble back in shock, no, he stood his ground and met his fate face to face. 

The sand holding Grian up disintegrated, and he fell into the water, sinking up to his elbows in the sea. He dragged himself up into a sitting position, looking up to see Scar smiling at him, something almost…vindictive in his eyes. The grey pallor had spread to his neck and was quickly approaching his neck, but yet, he seemed perfectly calm.

“I told you so.” He spoke loud and clear, and everything exploded. 

Thinking back on it later, Grian understood exactly what had happened. But in the moment, all he knew was that something had exploded, his ears were ringing, there was purple blood flowing through the water around his hands and staining his tunic, and Scar was still standing in the middle of it all, green eyes turned red, skin the color of loose ashes. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Someone grabbed him under the arms and pulled him onto the beach, and he was able to examine the situation more thoroughly. Pearl was standing next to him, sword in one hand, the other gripping his shoulder protectively. Mumbo was waving the smoke away from the barrel of his machine and loading in…a cannonball? He had a cannon, that was a cannon, it was heavily modified and surrounded in smoke, but that was a cannon. Impulse stood next to it, hand raised to signal both Mumbo and the crew to hold, a serious expression on his face. His sword was in his other hand, ready to defend Mumbo if anything happened.

In the water in front of Scar, one of the watchers was lying face down, the one that had grabbed Grian. It was bleeding a thick purple into the sea, and it wasn’t moving. The other one was still standing, but half of its eyes had slammed shut, and it seemed disoriented, to say the least. Scar, despite his trade, was very much alive and standing, and he had drawn a gun from a holster that Grian had never noticed before, pointing it at the remaining watcher.

“The trade is done. You will leave with your life, and in return, you will never engage with my crew or anyone I declare under my protection again.” He stated calmly, his voice lined with vitriol. “That is my offer. Unless you want to join your friend?”

“You will pay for your crimes–” It began, but Scar interrupted it.

“There will be no paying for crimes. Either you accept my deal and leave, or I kill you right now. You are no god, not anymore.”

The watcher lifted its head, white hair falling across its face, nearly obscuring its real gaze. It stared at the gun with thousands of eyes, then let out a snarl of rage.

“I do not accept your deal, you shall–” 

A gunshot cut off its final words, a bullet plunging into its eye, and Grian shut his own eyes as purple blood began to flow down its face. It screamed in pain, a long and drawn out sound that made those who listened want to rip their hair out, then fell with a splash into the sea, next to its companion.

“That settles it then.” Scar holstered his gun and turned around, stepping back onto the shore. “Get the bodies, take their eyes, that’s all we need.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” Impulse nodded, sheathing his sword and marching over to the bodies, gesturing for a few of the crew to help him.

Scar’s eyes surveyed the shoreline, nearly glowing red as he looked over the ship, then the crew, then the cannon, and finally landing on Grian. Grian stared at him with a mix of shock and horror as he made his way over, a dead man walking. 

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He asked, folding his arms. “Everyone important is fine.”
“You’re alive.” Grian whispered, shaking his head. “How are you alive?”

Scar laughed, then sat down on the sand next to him. “You didn’t really think that was my only life, did you? Oh, Grian, you silly bird. Now I’m on my last life. And now that I’ve got those eyes, I’ll be getting a couple of those lives back. The watchers aren’t the only powerful beings out here, you know.”

“...I don’t understand.” Grian pulled his wings around himself, wincing as the sand ground between his fingers. It would take ages to clean it out.

“You don’t need to.” Scar looked up at Pearl, who was still standing. “Right, Pearl?”

“I’ve given up trying to figure it out, if I’m honest.” Pearl shrugged, putting away her own sword now that the threat was dealt with. “Scar knows things he shouldn’t, does things he shouldn’t, and lives when he shouldn’t. You learn how to accept that over time.”

“How did I end up here?” Grian buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“You’ll believe it eventually.” Scar patted him on the shoulder. “In the meantime, we’ve got to get the Wandering Trader back in the sea.”

“Right, right.” Pearl pulled Scar to his feet easily, then did the same with Grian. As they were walking back towards the ship, Scar pulled ahead and began giving orders alongside Impulse, and Pearl and Grian were left to walk alongside each other.

“Good job on getting out of the water so quickly, I thought I was going to have to run in and grab you.” Pearl commented.

Grian frowned at her. “...you did? Or at least, someone did. I was pulled onto the beach.” 

“No, you weren’t.” She shook her head. “I was watching the crew. After Mumbo fired, you got back to the shore super quickly, and Scar was able to do his big threatening thing with you out of the way. No one pulled you out, they were too busy keeping an eye on the watchers.”

Grian looked back out at the sea, surprised to see that it was moving again, waves lapping against the shore. The dark blood of the watchers was slowly being swept away by the tide as the crew dismembered their bodies for whoever wanted proof of them. 

“Are you okay?” Pearl asked, taking his hand in hers. “I know that was a lot all at once. It’s…it’s okay not to be.”

Grian thought about it for a moment, then shrugged, still looking out at the sea. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

-

It took several hours to get the ship back out to sea, fighting against the tides and the swirling sand. Grian managed to slip away at one point, creeping back over to the sea, crouching down among the seafoam once again to whisper to it.

“Thank you. I think that was you. I appreciate it.” He stirred the foam around with his finger, his other arm wrapped around his waist. “I hope I can repay you someday.” 

The deck was a flurry of activity once the ship actually got out into the sea, with Impulse and Scar hollering out orders to set course back to the port they had come from. It would be a much longer journey back, due to the winds and the currents, so they were doing their best to get moving as soon as possible. 

Grian found himself hauling around rigging, adjusting the sails and jibs to align as closely as possible with what was desired. His wings itched fiercely from the sand, and his muscles ached more and more the longer that he went on for, but he didn’t stop working for a moment. He threw himself into the jobs, all the way until the sun set in the western horizon and the crew began to disperse for dinner. He volunteered to continue hauling in the sails alongside three other people, and it wasn’t until the moon hung high in the sky that he landed on the deck to take a short break. At least, that was his intention.

“Grian!” Scar walked up to him, and he was shocked to see that the man’s skin was back to its normal shade, his eyes green once more. “What are you doing? You’re not on the night crew, and I can feel your exhaustion from here.”

“You can feel my exhaustion?” Grian blinked, and his vision swayed in front of him. Oh, maybe he’d worked himself harder than he thought. Now that he wasn’t neck deep in the rigging, he could feel every ache of his muscles, as well as every grain of sand wedged in his wings. He was exhausted.

“Woah, hey, easy Grian, stay with me here.” Scar was in front of him now, holding him up with one arm and using his cane to keep them both propped up. “Do you really not know anything about how vex magic works?”

“...not really.” He blinked again, though it was getting hard to open his eyes again after doing so. “What’s…?”

“What’s what?” Scar asked, and suddenly they were both sitting on the deck instead of standing. Grian was leaned up against him, his wings flopped over both of them, and his eyes were closed more often than they were open now. 

“Mmm…” He mumbled, his head falling against Scar’s shoulder. 

“Weren’t you on watch last night too?” Scar asked, running his fingers through Grian’s wings, shaking out the sand gently. “Did you even eat dinner?” 

“‘M not…” Grian began, but he found that he didn’t have the energy to continue. Instead, he let out a soft warble and sank against Scar.

“Sleepy bird.” Scar commented lightly, continuing to preen his feathers. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you? We’re gonna have to fix that, now that there’s nothing standing in the way.”

Grian let out a soft, content sigh, and Scar laughed, pulling him closer. “Welcome to the crew, Grian. For real, this time.”

And for the first time since the Watcher’s Bargain , Grian felt like he was home.