Work Text:
By abstracted
The clang of the heavy cell door echoed down the cold, stone corridor, a sound Cherry had come to dread. Silas's cruel laugh still seemed to hang in the stale air, a phantom chill on her already drying skin. He had left her a small puddle, barely enough to wet her lips, and the effort to even reach that had left her shivering, her body screaming for the deep coolness of her natural element. The faint glimmer of her scales was dull, her seaweed dark hair brittle, and her ocean eyes were shadowed with exhaustion and fear.
Then, a new shadow fell over the doorway. It wasn't the lean, sneering silhouette of Silas. This was different. Larger. Broader.
Leo stepped into the dim light of the dungeon. His presence alone seemed to shrink the already cramped space, filling it with a raw, contained power. He was very muscular, with shoulders that strained the thick fabric of his guard's tunic, and a rugged handsomeness etched with the weariness of his station. His messy black hair framed his pale skin. Those light brown eyes, usually unreadable, held a flicker of something... something that wasn't hate as they swept over the small, desperate nymph on the floor. He moved with a heavy, deliberate gait, his scuffed boots crunching softly on the loose straw and a few scattered drops of water Silas had deliberately spilled. He carried a fresh, metal bucket in one hand, its weight seeming like nothing to him.
He didn't speak, not at first. Just stood there, a formidable silhouette against the flickering torchlight from the hallway, his gaze fixed on Cherry. The silence stretched, thick with her apprehension, before he finally took another slow step forward, the bucket thudding softly as he set it down just inside the bars.
Leo looked at the floor, where the water Silas had spilled was already being swallowed by the thirsty cracks in the stone. He let out a low, heavy huff, not of anger at Cherry, but of sheer frustration. He didn't say a word as he reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a clean, thick cloth. Kneeling by the bars, his massive frame casting a protective shadow over the cell, he dipped the cloth into his fresh bucket.
Cherry retreated into the farthest corner, her webbed toes scraping against the rock. She watched him through the dark, wet tangles of her hair, her eyes wide with a mix of thirst and terror. She expected him to throw the water at her, or worse, drink it in front of her. Instead, Leo reached through the bars. His arm was thick with muscle, easily twice the size of her own, but his movements were surprisingly steady. He squeezed the cloth, letting a stream of cool, clean water fall directly into a small stone basin she used for drinking.
"Silas is gone," Leo said. His voice was deep, like the rumble of distant thunder, but it wasn't loud. "He won't be back until sunrise." He squeezed the cloth again, then held it out toward her, offering the soaked fabric so she could press it to her parched skin.
"Take it, Nymph," he muttered, his light brown eyes softening just a fraction as he looked at her. "I'm not going to let you turn to dust in here."
The next day…
The sound of Silas’s boots was rhythmic and sharp, like a hammer hitting an anvil. Inside the cell, Cherry pulled her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. "Still looking a bit parched, fish girl," Silas sneered. He held a wooden ladle over the bars, tilting it just enough so the water trickled down the outside of the cell, dripping onto the stone floor where she couldn't reach it. He laughed, a dry, grating sound. "Maybe if you beg, I'll accidentally drop the next one inside."
Cherry didn't beg. She stared at him with defiant, shimmering eyes, even as her throat felt like it was filled with sand. Suddenly, the heavy outer door creaked open. Leo stepped in, his massive frame blocking out the light from the hallway. He didn't say a word, he just stood there with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his shadow stretching across Silas and the cell.
Silas stiffened, his smug grin faltering. "Just... giving the prisoner her evening ration, Leo. She's a messy eater." He tossed the empty ladle into a bucket and hurried past Leo, muttering something about the "smell of swamp water."
Leo waited until the outer door slammed shut and the echoes died away. The silence that followed was heavy. He turned his gaze to the wet floor, then to Cherry, who was trembling in the corner.
Without a word, Leo stepped forward and unlocked the heavy iron bolt, something he was strictly forbidden to do while alone. He stepped into the cell. He was so big that the small space felt like it was shrinking around him. He knelt down, his armor clinking softly, and reached into a hidden fold of his cloak.
He pulled out a large, cool sponge, dripping with fresh water. He didn't force her to move, he simply set it on a clean stone near her hand. "He’s an idiot," Leo grumbled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the small cell. He reached out, and for the first time, his large, calloused hand hesitated near her shoulder. He didn't touch her, not yet, but the heat radiating from him felt like a sun she hadn't seen in weeks. "Don't let him see you cry. It’s what he wants."
Leo stood up and left the room, leaving Cherry in the silence.
He returned twenty minutes later. The only sound was the distant drip of water from the ceiling. Leo didn't just bring a bucket this time, he brought a small wooden stool. He set it down outside the bars, sat his massive frame onto it, and placed a jar of cool, clear spring water, not the gray well water, within her reach. "Drink," he said simply. "Slowly."
Cherry crawled forward, her webbed fingers trembling as she gripped the jar. She drank until the tightness in her throat vanished and her eyes regained their luster. For the first time, she didn't retreat to the corner. She stayed near the bars, looking up at the giant man who sat watching her with a strange, heavy expression.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice like the rustle of river reeds. "Why are you kind when the others are not?"
Leo leaned forward, resting his large elbows on his knees. "Because I’m from the outskirts of Kix, Nymph. I know what it’s like to be treated like something stuck to a boot." He paused, his light brown eyes searching hers. "They say your kind are monsters. They say your Queen tore our Great Ruler apart in cold blood."
Cherry’s eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp grief. She shook her head so hard her dark hair whipped around her face. "No," she choked out. "That is the lie that feeds your swords. I was there in the distance, I saw it." Leo stiffened. "You saw the murder?"
"It wasn't a murder," Cherry said, her webbed hand pressing against the cold iron of the bars. "The Dragon Queen was trying to save him. Your Ruler’s horse spooked near the cliff of the Great Volcano. He was falling into the magma. The Queen dived to catch him, she caught him in her talons, but he was already gone. His own sword accidentally stabbed him because it wasn't in its special case thing that you use. Your soldiers only saw a dragon clutching a dead King, and they started firing."
Leo went deathly still. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He had spent three years preparing to fight a war that was started because of a tragedy, not a crime.
Next week…
The heavy thud of the outer door usually brought relief, but tonight, the silence that followed was fractured by a jagged, hitching sound. When Leo rounded the corner, the torchlight flickered over a scene that made his blood turn to ice. The cell door was locked, but the floor was a mess of shattered pottery, the jar of water he’d brought her yesterday had been smashed to pieces.
Cherry wasn’t in her usual corner. She was slumped against the bars, her small, webbed hand clutching her shoulder where a dark, blooming bruise was already darkening under her translucent skin. A thin trail of blood, vibrant and shimmering like crushed pearls, ran down her arm. Silas hadn't just mocked her today, he had used his heavy gauntlets.
"Cherry," Leo breathed, the name feeling heavy and strange in his mouth.
She flinched at the sound, her head snapping up. Her eyes, usually so full of defiance, were clouded with a hazy, terrifying dullness. She looked like a plant that had finally snapped in the wind. "He... he wanted to know where the Dragon Queen’s hoard is hidden," she rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "I told him I didn't know. I'm just an ocean nymph. We don't care for gold."
Leo didn't waste time with words. The frustration he’d been nursing for days exploded into a quiet, focused rage. He pulled the heavy ring of keys from his belt, the metal clinking like a death knell in the quiet corridor, and unlocked the door.
He stepped inside, his massive frame nearly brushing the ceiling. He dropped to one knee, the stone groaning under his weight. "Don't," she whimpered, pulling back. "Leo, if they… if Silas finds out..." He gently took her hand, his palm feeling like a warm pulse against her deathly cold skin.
He pulled a small, glass vial from his tunic, not just water this time, but a healing salve he’d traded half a month’s pay for at the market. With surprising tenderness for a man whose hands were the size of large plates, he began to dab the medicine onto her shoulder.
Leo’s thumb caught a stray, pearlescent tear on her cheek. His skin felt like a heated hearth against her cold dampness. He froze, his breath hitching as he realized how close he was close enough to see the silver ring of her irises pulse like the tide. "You're shivering," he grumbled, though his voice lacked its usual edge. It was a low, jagged sound that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them.
Cherry leaned into the warmth of his palm, a small, involuntary movement that made Leo’s heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird. "It is so... quiet here," she whispered, her voice like the rustle of river reeds. "In the Great Sea, there is always a song. The whales, the currents, the shifting sand. Here, there is only the sound of stone and dying hope."
Leo’s gaze dropped to her hand, small and fragile against the heavy iron of her chains. He didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted, his massive shoulder brushing hers. "My home was on the outskirts," he said softly. "Nothing but dry wind and the smell of baked clay. I used to hate the dust. Now, I’d give anything to see a horizon that wasn't made of dungeon walls."
"Then we are both far from where we belong," Cherry murmured. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for him. "Do you think you are a bad man, Leo? For guarding a cage?" Leo looked at the healing salve on her skin, then back to the door he had locked behind him. "I think," he said, his voice dropping to a barely audible rasp, "that I’m tired of being on the wrong side of the bars."
For a heartbeat, the air between them changed. It wasn't a guard and prisoner, it was just two souls caught in a storm. Leo reached out, his hand hesitating before he tucked a damp, salt crusted strand of hair behind her ear.