Chapter Text
"Pirate" was a word that juvenile Wriothesley never would have thought would be a word used to describe himself.
People used to tell him he was clever. Strong. Intimidating, sometimes. On other days, maybe kind.
Never "wanted for 14 million mora" or "dangerous pirate: beware".
Well, now juvenile Wriothesley was adult Wriothesley, and within the period of time that is specifically labeled by Wriothesley as "whatever happened when I was going from 15 to 30", the man had committed a family massacre, obliterated a human trafficking ring, been imprisoned, been freed, went on a pirate ship, got kicked off after being "too unruly" (how can one be "too unruly" on a pirate ship?), joined another ship, led a revolution, and eventually started his own crew. And now he was thirty years old, and his head was worth several millions of mora, which was probably one of the least of his worries at the moment.
Yes, the 14 million mora bounty on his head was practically nothing compared to what was in front of him right now.
The man was silver hair.
He was long, white eyelashes that laid across his cheeks gently.
He was a pair of deep, serpentlike eyes that Wriothesley imagined would be a rather lovely color.
He was a long, rippling tail of shimmering scales that glinted under the sun. He was a lithe, sculpted body, pale like marble and skin soft like silk.
The man, to the best of Wriothesley's judgment, was a mermaid. A mermaid with a harpoon thrust into his midriff. A mermaid who laid still on the floor, surrounded by a fairly large group of people. A mermaid that was completely silent, completely calm, and completely serene as he literally bled to his death. Dark blood seeped into old wood plank boards, and Wriothesley momentarily wondered if the blood would stain the mermaid's milky white skin.
Wriothesley glanced over his shoulder, and thank the Seven, the person he needed was in the crowd. "Sigewinne."
The half-Melusine skipped forward. For a very long time, Wriothesley had secretly wondered if there might be something very wrong with this Sigewinne who seemed and acted like a young girl but whose eyes shone when she saw a gory body, organs hanging out its corpse and blood pouring from every possible place, but it turned out that this was typical Sigewinne behavior, as he learned from being stuck at her side for fifteen long years. He watched as the half-Melusine got to work, humming a sea shanty she'd picked up from one of the sailors that she very much should not have picked up. As if she were a normal little girl playing doctor with her dolls.
Dolls. Wriothesley wondered if he should get her any, but when he'd asked, the healer had promptly refused. It was the same deal for most other things that young girls who looked her age liked. He'd offered her dresses and shoes and a tea set. The only one she'd accepted was the tea set.
"An easy fix," Sigewinne declared. Wriothesley scoffed. Only someone like her could ever look at a half-dead person who had lost half their blood and say "an easy fix". Sigewinne thrust a few materials into his hands--really, disrespecting a captain like so--he'd have fed her to the sharks if not for her abilities--and set to work, her nimble hands pulling at the harpoon, working threads and needles, and all the while her thin voice whispering encouragements, as if the mermaid could hear her.
"Two weeks of rest, plain food, and water. Refrain from sudden motions and overexertion." Sigewinne nodded as if proud of herself. "Yes. Come to me for a checkup every three to four days until you are fully recovered and approved by me...if you experience symptoms of nausea, vomiting, aching...,"
At that point Wriothesley was sure no one was listening, since the mermaid was unconscious and it really seemed as if Sigewinne was rambling to herself, so he stepped forward and knelt next to the mermaid. "How long do you think he will be unconscious?" he interrupted.
"From his current state, I'd say another twelve to twenty-four hours," Sigewinne said.
"That's not helpful at all, Sigewinne. Also, I told you to address me as Captain when speaking." Wriothesley scowled, and Sigewinne pretended to be scared.
"Alright, Captain." Sigewinne huffed. From her tone, Wriothesley knew immediately that Sigewinne was not going to hold to that promise for any longer than a day.
"When he wakes up, bring him to my chamber so I can talk to him." Wriothesley gave the mermaid a judgmental glance. He was...
pretty.
Wriothesley didn't know much about pretty things. He didn't particularly care for that which was pleasing to the eye, since he grew up too busy running away and scrambling for food and money to particularly care. But looking at the mermaid's sharp and smooth features and his long, pale existence, he figured that if anything was pretty, it was this mermaid.
**
They say that one's bedchamber is the ultimate reflection of one's needs. For example, a person who has luxurious needs would have a luxurious room, or someone who was poor and needed money would have a very minimal room to save money.
This applied to Wriothesley, who was a simple man with simple needs. Thus, his room was equally simple.
There was a bed large enough for one--maybe two if the other was small. A shelf for his clothes and a chest for his trinkets and weapons.
That was about it, except for the desk in front of the window, which was the only thing in the room that could be considered remotely "complex". It was littered with maps and papers, which was something Sigewinne fussed about every day, because she liked things orderly and neat, save for her hoard of human items that she had yet to investigate. Four journals that Wriothesley consistently didn't bother to update. A book that he'd given up reading a year ago. A navy application that he'd stabbed with a knife, and most prominently, his own wanted poster that he'd stolen from his hometown. The picture was blurry and clearly taken candidly, with a bad interpretation of his undeniably good looks and terrible quality as if it had been zoomed in from far away.
He really hated that picture.
Such was Wriothesley's bedroom. He personally had no problem with it the way that it was.
“You don’t think you could bear to have some form of decoration? Like a painting or something?” Sigewinne had asked one day.
“The view outside is decoration enough,” Wriothesley had replied. It was, actually. Working in front of the window, it was basically an aquatic life documentary, without the commentary.
Now he found himself wondering how nice it would be if the mermaid could be a decoration of sorts. He shook the thought away immediately–that would be utterly dehumanizing and disgustingly objectifying on his part. He was a pirate, but he wasn’t fucking evil.
Nevertheless, the image was clear in his head, since the mermaid was standing in front of him right now. Wriothesley found himself admiring his silent serenity, something that he could never aspire to have. The mermaid was almost like a statue–expressionless, still, and silent.
However, only one question was on his mind:
“You have legs?”
The mermaid remained silent. Sigewinne nudged him, and life seemed to burst through his body–he let out a sudden exhale, stumbling forward. Just then, Wriothesley realized his face was flushed and his cheeks were darkened.
“..., have you been holding your breath?”
The mermaid nodded, clearly flustered.
“Sigewinne, what did you tell him?”
“To be still and not make a sound until you said something,” Sigewinne said.
“And what did he do?”
“He stayed still and didn’t make a sound.”
“That doesn’t mean not breathing,” Wriothesley groaned. “Sigewinne, he was about to die.”
“I didn’t mean not breathing,” Sigewinne protested.
Wriothesley pinched the bridge of his nose. It was either Sigewinne who was incredibly vague or the mermaid who was incredibly blunt, or maybe both.
After a period of silence that was incredibly awkward for everyone other than the mermaid, Wriothesley spoke.
“So…, what’s your name?”
The mermaid stared. For a moment, Wriothesley wondered if the mermaid even knew what he was saying, or if the mermaid even knew his own answer. Or perhaps the mermaid was mute? Did he even have a name?
Just as Wriothesley was about to repeat his question, a low voice responded.
“…, it’s Neuvillette, sir.”
Wriothesley didn't want to admit it, but he quite liked the sound of the mermaid's voice.
“Neuvillette? Do you have a surname?”
“That is my surname, sir.”
“Neuvillette Neuvillette?”
“No, merely Neuvillette, sir.” Why did he keep adding 'sir' to his sentences? Just once or twice was enough.
“…, do you have a first name?”
“If I do, I’ve long forgotten it, sir.”
“…, okay.” Wriothesley pondered. “Neuvillette.”
“Yes, sir?” The mermaid looked up at him, waiting for his next sentence.
“That’s a nice name.”