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The ship cut through the crystalline waters, disrupting the peace and serenity that had fallen upon it. Waves crashed against the side of the vessel, trying to fight back the ship but all its efforts ended up futile.
The moon had risen, a pearly-white orb looming overhead, shedding its ghostly light on everything it touched, particularly sparkling on the waters like little diamonds— little treasures just out of reach.
Scar leaned against the railing, head bowed low as he stared down at his distorted reflection. His brown locks fell over his eyes, shielding part of his vision. He sighed as he ran his finger across the cool, metallic railing, the dust clinging to his skin.
Their expedition had been… boring, to put it simply.
They were tasked with hunting down sirens, each siren caught worth thousands of gold coins. This was their opportunity to make a fortune and gain reputation, but so far? Nothing. Nothing at all.
All of them were slowly losing hope. Some of them let it slip away and called it a night, like Cub and Doc had. While the others held onto what little bit of it they could, much like Scar and the three other members of their crew.
“Anything?” A gruff voice called out.
“Nope,” Scar replied, sighing noisily.
“I think I got somethin’,” Another one of them whispered. Scar snapped his head back. Everyone was gathering around the crew member and Scar did so, too.
The water before them was rippling, not caused by their ship but by something else, someone else. Scar saw a flash of pale red under the deep blue ocean, and audibly gasped. He wasn’t the only one who got excited.
Hearing the commotion, Cub remerged from the cabin and shouted orders, “Lower the nets, lower the bait!”
Scar ran towards the rope adorned with colourful crystals, a temptation for sirens, something they couldn’t, supposedly, resist. He unravelled it and heaved it over the edge of the ship. It hit the water with a splosh before being mainly submerged under.
For a second, everything was still. Neither the sea moved, nor the rope, nor any of them.
Scar held his breath, waiting for something, anything to happen.
The rope bounced once, twice, before being tugged at. Scar wrapped the rope between his fingers, holding onto it with as much force as he could. The siren pulled back with equal strength. The siren really, really wanted jewels.
He looked at one of his crew members and nodded. On cue, he lowered a massive net and in an instant, scooped up the siren. Scar heard a pained shriek and felt something inside him twist painfully.
The net was pulled up, now weighed down by the siren in it, before being tied up and thrown onto the deck with little regard and care. The siren winced once more at the harsh treatment.
The thin, barbed wires stung against his skin, no doubt extremely painful, but maybe he didn’t feel pain the same way humans did, because he shook his head once before meeting Cub’s eyes with unparalleled anger, gaze hardly touched by fear.
He was undeniably pretty. Damp hair, as bright and captivating as the sun, fell over his face like a curtain. He had pale yellow skin that dipped into a soft red down his body, with golden scales like starry specks littered across.
He held Cub’s gaze with eyes as dark as a starless night, an endless void Scar found himself falling into. Scar found himself drowning in them, and honestly, he didn’t want to fight back. Frankly, it was no wonder sirens managed to lure in sailors.
“We got one!” The eager words were punctuated by excited whoops and loud applause.
The siren growled in response, flashing moon-white fangs ready to bite into them had there not been restraints holding him back.
Scar felt a sudden wave of guilt. No one deserved to be captured and sold for any amount. The siren’s rage was understandable. Scar found it contagious, but he folded it and tucked it in the back of his head, at least for now.
“Greg, can you take him to the cage inside and guard him?” Doc phrased it like a question but everyone including Scar knew it was not— it was a command not meant to be disobeyed in the slightest, “You too,” he nodded towards another crew member.
Greg let out a gruff hum, heaved the net over his shoulder, leading the trapped siren into the heart of the ship. Scar wanted to stop him. This felt wrong. It made him feel sick. Especially how they looked at the siren as if he was an object meant for possession, not for protection.
Rage bubbled under his skin, threatening to burst out of him. His knuckles tightened around the hilt of the dagger tucked in his belt. He was so tempted to pull it out and run it through Greg’s dense skull.
Instead he let go of it, sighed, and turned away, before his thoughts took over him and his hands ended up stained with filthy blood.
The moon dipped into the water, dragging the inky twilight with it as it made partial way for the burning sun, violet blending with red to create a soft pink that bled through the sky.
Scar was sitting on the deck, legs tucked underneath him as he rocked back and forth, contemplating all that he could do, and all that he should. He really, really had to free the siren, afraid that his heart may not rid itself of the guilt weighing it down like an anchor.
Right now, the best course of action seemed to be violence. He had a simple plan— murder the guards, take the siren, dump him into the ocean, and then deal with the unwanted consequences of his actions, and Doc’s fuming rage.
He walked down the wooden, creaking stairs into the cabins. If he was right, then the siren should be in the room furthest down the left hall. And he liked to believe he was right more often than he was not, even if that was a slight exaggeration.
He crept towards the door, steps light and careful. He was holding his breath. Any sound made could compromise him and the siren’s safety— he couldn’t afford for either to be risked.
The door was open, a sliver of artificial, orange light pouring through the gap, and the sound of harsh voices drifting towards him.
Scar pressed his ear to the door, and listened.
“How much d’ya reckon we’ll get from selling this guy?”
“Don’t touch me!” An unfamiliar voice shrieked.
“Oh shut up.”
“Hm, I reckon the money’ll be split six ways, so just divide it by six, I guess,” Greg replied.
“The siren’s a pretty thing, shame we have to sell him. Would’ve liked to kept him for myself.”
Those words made something inside him snap. Was it the objectification of the siren, or the disgusting intentions behind his words? Both. Definitely both. He won’t let them lay a finger on him, or hurt him, or do anything to him. Scar will make sure that, after today, they won’t be able to do anything else.
He kicked open the door, startling the two men inside. The siren was curled up in the corner of the cage, still clinging on the rage although some fear had seeped in. Greg stood up while the other man withdrew the prodding finger he had stuck through the gap between the bars of the cage.
“What’d’ya want?” Greg grumbled.
“Oh nothing…” Scar strode over to him, subtly withdrawing his dagger, “Just wanted to do… this!” He lifted the dagger and ran it through Greg’s heart, pulling it out and digging it in once more, for good measure. He pulled his dagger out and pushed Greg away, letting him pathetically twitch and writhe on the floor.
The other crew member gasped, “Sc—” he couldn’t finish getting another word out of his filthy mouth before Scar shoved the blade into his throat. He gurgled and gulped as his body dropped down, moving no more.
“Creep,” he spat at him, wiping his dagger clean on the hem of Greg’s shirt. He didn’t need their filth staining his blade. Tucking the dagger back into his belt, he approached the cage and kneeled before it. “Hey.”
The siren, after much struggle, moved closer to Scar, “Hi… Oh my Poseidon, you murdered them,” his voice increased a pitch and his dark eyes widened as he took in the bloody mess behind Scar. He glanced back to Scar who was wearing a goofy grin, as if this was the most normal thing he’s ever done.
“Yep,” he said simply, “And I’m going to free you, uh…”
“Grian,” the siren introduced himself.
“Okay, Grian. I’m Scar and I’m going to help you escape, okay?” He softened his voice.
“Alright,” Grian nodded.
Scar unlocked the cage, “Follow me,” he stepped towards the door, hand around the knob. Before pulling it open, he spared a glance over his shoulder. Grian sat there, unmoving. “Do you not want to escape?”
“I do! But what do you expect me to do? Flop behind you like a dead salmon?” He replied, voice strained with annoyance and irritation.
“Can you?” Scar asked. Grian flashed him a fuming look.
“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands as in surrender of the idea, “So I, uh, carry you?” He grimaced as he offered that, feeling a mild bit of embarrassment.
“What else can you do?”
Fair.
Bracing one hand behind his slippery tail, the other on his scaly back, he lifted Grian and heaved him over his shoulder. The sensation was… unfamiliar but not uncomfortable. Grian’s bare skin was cold against his, and he was slipping from where Scar’s arm kept him pinned on his shoulder. He readjusted his grip and tightened it.
Carrying Grian, he nudged the door open with his foot. No one was up and out, yet. Good for him. What wasn’t good, however, was the fact that despite his iron grip, Grian continued wriggling and squirming.
“Can you stop wriggling?” Scar sighed, exasperated.
“You stop wriggling,” he mumbled in response.
Scar rolled his eyes at the feeble retort, yet continued to make his way towards the stairs leading to fresh air and freedom.
Grian relaxed against his hold as he took in the scent of the sea, and heard the waves crashing. Scar could imagine his relief— Grian was so close to home.
He took Grian to the edge of the ship, and sat him on the railing.
“Thank you for doing this,” Grian smiled, and though his fangs were clearly visible, Scar didn’t find it intimidating, instead he found it somewhat genuine. “I’m unfortunately indebted to you.”
“You’re welcome, of course,” Scar saluted him with two fingers, “Hopefully, maybe, see you around?”
“Maybe…” Grian winked at him.
“That’s g— argh!” He cried out as a sudden wave of pain flooded over him. It was blinding, it was too much, it hurt so bad. He looked down to see a spear piercing his leg, crimson blood staining his brown trousers. He winced as he pulled out the spear, immediately regretting it. The pain was excruciating. It hurt so much. It hurt to the point the pain faded away, replaced by a cold numbness that was almost, much more worse.
Black spotted his vision, ringing in his ears drowned out most sounds as he fell forwards, the last thing he heard a shout of his own name.
Grian panicked. Scar was hurt and unconscious in his arms. Unfriendly humans approached him, ready to launch more weapons at him. He couldn’t come up with a logical or rational plan to save his own life, much less Scar’s. Without giving it much thought, he tugged Scar into him and dived backwards, hitting the water like a stone.
Scar sunk deep to the bottom, drifting unconsciously. Grian shifted his hold around Scar and grabbed his wrist instead, blunt claws digging into his flesh. He tried not to draw anymore blood out of the poor human.
And then he realised the fact that Scar was human and couldn’t breathe underwater. But before he could start panicking once more, he remembered the rings he was wearing. One of them enabled him to breathe on land, the other was useless to him but it’ll prevent Scar from drowning.
In a haste, he took it off and slid it down Scar’s finger. Now that that was dealt with, he pulled him even deeper where not even the light caressed them. The land-dwellers stood no chance in reaching them.
His cave was right around here, somewhere. He squinted as he made out a rocky lump, faint purple light originating from it. There it was.
His tail thrashed against the water even more faster now that his home was in sight. He pushed away the curtains of seaweed draped over the entrance and sighed in relief.
He was home. He was safe. But Scar wasn’t.
He dropped Scar unceremoniously in his clamshell, making sure he was comfortable amidst the seaweed, before inspecting his leg.
Blood droplets continued pouring out of the wound and lingered in the water, red specks dancing amidst the blue. The wound looked nasty, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t fix. He was one of the best healers after all, and he earned that title for a reason.
A mix of squid ink, crushed cod bones, and dried kelp ought to do it. He probably had the mix somewhere. He swam over to his shelves, letting his gaze travel from one bottle to another until he finally found it.
With delicate hands, he picked it up and uncorked it, scrunching his nose at the pungent smell that escaped. This thing smelled absolutely horrid. He turned back to Scar who was now awake and taking in the sight with a perplexed expression on his face. His mind was probably stacked with a million questions.
“You’re up! Don’t, uh, don’t worry. I can fix you,” he gestured towards his marred leg before he dumped the contents of the bottle on the injury.
Scar flinched. Grian expected this. Most of his patients felt ache upon the first contact with medicine. Before Scar could wipe away the medicine, Grian took a chunk of seaweed and tied it around his leg, securing it tightly.
“Thanks, I guess now we’re even,” Scar chuckled awkwardly, “Oh god, my head hurts,” his hand rested atop his forehead, “It’s hot, too.”
“That’s a common side effect. It’ll go away,” Grian sat down at the edge of the clamshell. “Oh by the way, don’t take off the ring unless you have a death wish as it’s the reason why you’re still alive,” he warned Scar who had now noticed the piece of jewellery around his finger and was one step away from pulling it off.
“I wasn’t going to,” he pouted, his words punctuated by a yawn, “What I am going to do, however, is sleep,” he stretched and right as he said that, his eyes fluttered shut. Seems like slumber had won quickly over him.
Grian giggled softly. His hand rested on Scar’s head, fingers combing through Scar’s hair that was impossibly fluffy. He looked so peaceful and calm, deep in his slumber— it was so adorable. He deserved the rest.
Grian couldn’t help but worry for him. His crew was probably on the search for him. He was most definitely wanted, a fugitive who deprived his crew of the wealth they ‘deserved’. Where would he go now? Grian couldn’t even keep him because he was a hunter. Now, he may have shown some mercy by not immediately sinking his teeth into the human, but other sirens would absolutely not. And if they found out what he truly was, they’d make it hurt for Scar and punish Grian for harbouring someone who threatens their safety.
He sighed and screwed his eyes shut, as if he could make everything behind his eyelids vanish, and achieve the nothingness that so often tempted him. But alas things didn’t work that way, and when he opened his eyes, Scar was still there, the threat they escaped from still existent, everything was there, unchanged.
He let out another annoyed sigh. Maybe he was just tired. Once he slept and woke up with a fresh mind, and so did Scar, the two of them could come up with a good plan to get Scar to safety. He trusted that Scar was better than him when it came to making foolproof plans. He didn’t know that for sure but Scar had to be! Otherwise the both of them were quite literally dead.
He slid into the clamshell next to Scar, because well, where else was he supposed to sleep in his own home? He pulled the seaweed over him, tucking it under his arms as he turned to his side, facing the direction opposite to Scar.
An arm wrapped around him and he froze. Was this normal human behaviour while sleeping? Was it normal to unknowingly cling onto someone that saved you? It must be if Scar was doing it… that is if Scar can be considered a normal human. Well, he was probably normal, excluding the fact that he murdered two people for a siren he hardly knew.
He had to admit, the touch felt… nice. It felt warm, fuzzy, sweet. It made him feel safe and comfortable.
And who was to blame him when he leaned back into Scar, sagging in his arms? He let his eyes fall shut and followed Scar into slumber, leaving all the worries and dangers in the waking world.