“Come on Gryffindor’s row!” Sirius ordered as he thrust his own oar out in front of himself, brandishing it like a sword. The Slytherin team looked up too late. James, Remus and Peter rammed the other team’s raft, knocking them all into the water. Sirius nimbly hopped across with James following close behind and started rowing it away from the Slytherin's reach. Remus and Peter moved their raft as fast as they could after them. Remus was thoroughly enjoying himself. He’d never played pirates as a child and this seemed an excellent way to have that chance. It was what his dad had wanted, after all, he reasoned, as he rowed just that little bit harder.
They stopped in the middle of the lake. James quickly lashed the rafts together and turned them into one.
Sirius let out a roar like a lion as he held his oar above his head. James joined in on the next one, raising his oar above his head as well. Peter joined them on the third roar and Remus, not wanting to be left out, roared on their final roar. Feeling the rush of excitement from their successful commandeering.
“BLACK, POTTER, PETTIGREW AND LUPIN! RETURN IMMEDIATELY!” Minerva McGonagall’s voice boomed across the water. She’d gotten a megaphone from somewhere. She lowered it and crooked a finger at them, beckoning them back.
“Don’t know why she’s using that thing,” Sirius muttered as they dipped their oars into the water. “She’s shouted at me louder than that without its aid.” James snickered and set the others off, so by the time they’d steered their oversized raft to the shore they were all struggling to keep their faces straight.
“Chores,” Was all she said before she stormed off. The four looked at each other, silently debating if she meant for them to follow them. She turned back and glowered at them. Yep, they were meant to follow her.
“Never in all my years of working here have I had a group of boys quite as troublesome as yourselves. Knocking other campers into the lake and stealing their raft! What were you thinking?!”
“I believe the correct term is pirating their raft.” Sirius chimed in helpfully. Oddly enough, McGonagall didn’t find it very helpful.
“Mr Black,” Her sick sweet smile made Remus nervous, and it wasn’t even aimed at him. “You will be cleaning the toilets every day until your stay here is over, as well as,” She raised her voice slightly when he started to protest. “As well as, weeding, painting, putting away equipment we have used that day, helping Ms Pince in the library, mopping the main hall, and collecting dirty washing from the cabins.” She turned to look at Remus and the others. “You will all be helping Mr Black with these chores. I will also be writing to all your parents,” She dismissed them, telling them they’d be painting the border fences tomorrow instead of going on the nature trail Mr Flitwick had planned.
“Sorry,” Sirius whispered in Remus's ear as they crossed the campsite to their cabin.
“For what? That was thrilling,” Remus grinned at him and leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Today I was a pirate. I’ll gladly do whatever she wants because I got to be a pirate,” Sirius chuckled at his excitement.
“Well, at least we’ve still got our dibs cards. She forgot to take them off us. I say we use them to get extra pudding tonight before she remembers. You know, make the most of them.” Sirius grabbed his hand and Remus could almost taste the big slabs of chocolate cake he knew were for pudding that night.
Peter’s favorite time of day was twilight. The main reason for this preference was currently swimming towards him with a big goofy grin on his face.
“Stinky Petey!” Called the boy as he stretched and shook out his legs as if they hadn’t been used in a long time.
“I’m not stinky!” Peter snapped without heat.
“You’re stinky to me! You smell like sweat and something weird and only on you land walkers.” Stiles chuckled as he placed a shell on the tallest rock on the beach, just like he did every evening.
“You always call me a land walker, but aren’t you walking on land right now? How does that even make sense Stiles? Everybody walks on land.” Peter huffed, knowing where this argument headed.
“Why do you question me? Am I not knowledgeable?” He asked with a tilt of his head, stepping closer to Peter, “Am I not witty?” Another step. “Am I not beautiful?”
Stiles winked and kissed Peter’s nose like he did every time Peter saw him.
“You are all those things Stiles, but you are also silly and nonsensical. Sometimes I think I have stumbled upon a faerie.” Peter breathed, the reverence in his voice wrapping around them both.
Stiles’ laugh always reminded Peter of a barking sea lion, which should annoy Peter, but had quickly grown endearing.
“Do you think me one of the fae?”, Another bout of barking laughter, “You silly boy. Best not mention them again lest they hear and curse you for such slander.”
Peter scrunched up his face at the warning. Everyone knew the fae were just heresy the blasphemers used to scare good Christian children. They weren’t real.
“They don’t-”
“Hush now darling. Have the land walkers rotted your brain so much you have forgotten all sense?”
Peter really liked when Stiles called him darling. Stiles looked only a couple of years older than him yet spoke as if he’d been alive a lot longer, which should make Peter annoyed but had also grown to be endearing.
-
Peter’s youth passed in warm nights on the shore with his ethereal boy. As Peter matured Stiles seemed to stay the same, the “boy” always hushing Peter when he asked what kept Stiles young.
The Sea Wolves had taken Peter on the eve of his fifteenth birthday, coming for him under the burning midday sun, scared of nothing save the creatures that roamed the moonlit waters and the fearsome pirate, whose name, The Fearsome Fang, was only whispered for fear of summoning the demon himself.
Now when Peter looked back on those hazy dream-like nights he couldn’t remember if they were even real, or if they were just a boyhood fantasy.
Peter was to be their land errand boy, but soon they realized his skills and knowledge surpassed that of the usual port town boys they had taken. Yes, Peter had grown up speaking multiple languages and had learned how to treat the people of other nations from an early age, but Peter also had knowledge of the much more dangerous and rare things that one could come across out on the unforgiving ocean.
Peter knew the ways of the Fae, the language of the mermaids, the warding incantations to keep them safe, how to spot siren lairs, and much more. He had never questioned Stiles’ need to educate him in the ways of creatures he knew didn’t exist and now he was indebted to that strange boy for the knowledge he gifted Peter.
Of course Peter’s own cunning nature also helped him thrive with the Sea Wolves. Before the winds could bring in the new chill Peter had already shed his “slave name” and was an initiated member of The Sea Wolves known across the mystical realms as Sly Pete The Charming.
Sly Pete was a beautiful man, with sun tanned skin and ocean bright eyes. The mischief in his smile promised a wild night on the waves or in the sheets, humans and creatures both fell under his thrall as the man blossomed into a devious marauder.
Many, many leagues away a boy perpetually on the cusp of manhood waits every night for the boy with bright eyes and a quick wit. And every night his human does not come to greet him on that far away shore he sings a mourning song for nights lost to the treacherous days of adulthood.
-
By the time Stiles figured out who Sly Pete was the boy, who was then a man, was already a corpse.
“Genevieve, please come back!” Stiles heard the shouts, but was too deep in his own overwhelming grief to care that a human was upset.
“No! He was my youngest son! The only of your flock that truly was mine! And now he’s gone!” The woman was screaming, her anger and grief tearing across her words leaving her hoarse.
“He’s been gone for years now Gen.” The man sounded so defeated, the sound echoing against the chasm in Stiles’ heart.
He could no longer pretend they did the grieve the same boy, the same man. He turned away from the large rock jutting out of the rocky beach that was covered in shells, to face the humans and was greeted by two tear swollen faces, one angry, one resigned.
“Why do you still wait? Why didn't you ever look for him!” Stiles hadn't realized she was talking to him until she took a furious step toward him, “You've power indeed, yet you chose to sit here each night singing your dirges and reminding us of our losses! You could've saved my boy!”
The human woman Genevieve was in front of him quickly an accusing finger pointed directly at him.
“I did not realize he'd been taken. I thought he simply chose to explore the world.” An ashamed sigh “I could not fault him for his wanderlust of the land, but I could not follow him there. So I waited.” Stiles had thought for years that Peter abandoned him to be a typical human and make his own way in the world, he'd never thought for a second he could keep his human boy.
“You foolish immortal!” The woman hissed before dropping to her knees in front of him and sobbing, “He loved you. He loved the home he had here with us. His family and his companion. And now he is gone.”
Shiny silver tears pooled beneath Stiles amber eyes. He'd truly been a fool. He could have saved this fierce and loving woman the grief that now threatened to weaken her. He could have saved himself from the grief that wrapped around him like dark murky seaweed in the depths of the waters he had once found welcoming.
“Son, I know not what you are but I do know that you are kind. Is there any way you can find his body and give him a proper burial for us?” Stiles had been so enraptured by the scene of Peter's mother unraveling in front of him he hadn't even noticed the man approach.
Stiles could not stay in this port town, on this shore he'd called home for many years, it was splashed with memories of his precious boy, memories of happiness long passed. Finding the, now, man's body would be almost impossible, but Stiles need not succeed in his endeavor, even trying would bring peace to this family he could not protect.
“I cannot promise such a feat but I will venture out into the unknown to rectify the wrongs done to your family.” Stiles’ normally honey eyes shone the color of the sunset sun as a single opalescent tear rolled down his pale freckled cheek.
The man nodded solemnly and gathered his wife into his arms before gently guiding her back the way they'd came.
Someone had to pay for pain that ravaged his heart and the hearts of the humans under his protection.
Stiles walked into the dark moonlit water grief in his heart and vengeance in his eyes.
-
If one was to inquire, they might be told The Fearsome Fang danced and drank the nights away with strangers of every race, orientation, and even species. If they were then to actually witness his revelry they would see him leaving seedy establishments each night with a different partner. Although all of this was true, he did revel and leave with a different person each night, it was not the whole truth, for The Fearsome Fang used the farce of nightly passion to hide his actual deeds.
If one was to track the pirate, they might be surprised to find a clear trail across port towns of found missing boys, large sums of money left on orphanage and school house doors, and a single shell left on the tallest rock in the bay.
The Fearsome Fang had such a reputation for being an absolute scourge that not a single human around could see the pattern. A scourge he truly was though, despite his good deeds, he’d always had been a cunning little devil.
The bar quieted as he entered, boots heavy and eyes flashing, but he flashed a sharp devious grin and the music started up again as if it’d never paused. The patrons knew by the second night that if Fang flashed that smile, they were safe in his presence and would be much richer soon, so they too quickly resumed their raucous chatter.
“You lose again Fang!” a drunken farmer jeered taking the last of the pirate’s money.
The larger man’s blue eyes turned cold, “Yes, yes I did. Now take your winnings and get out of my sight before I take my gold back.”
The drunk man swallowed before nodding shakily and scooping the money into his pockets.
“Dread Pirate Drake! Two-Face Timothy! Escort this drunk home and make sure my money doesn’t get stolen off his corpse on the way there.” The pirate captain commanded without looking up from his new hand to see if his men had obeyed, he knew they would.
To anyone listening it would seem like this fearsome, merciless pirate had just told his men to kill the drunk and take his gold back, but Stiles only smirked under his hooded cloak because he knew that was not the actual order. That man would arrive safe with more gold that he had actually deserved to win. Stiles had seen the pirate captain's winning hand, three rounds while the pirate had conceded his gold, he had also heard the father lamenting his poor crop harvest and his trouble finding men to take his three daughters with such a small dowry for each.
It seemed The Fearsome Fang had a heart of gold, the heart of a young boy taken from his home without a choice. Stiles grinned with undiluted delight.
“You are not subtle on your feet.” the words stalled Stiles’ next step causing him to stumble out into the dim street lamp.
He looked up as The Fearsome Fang started laughing at his clumsiness, and was met with warm blue eyes and smile lines indicative of a happy man.
“Are you to slay me where I stand?” a cough, “Kneel, I should say.” Stiles’ pale skin turned the faintest shade of pink from embarrassment.
“Ah, you still speak as if you’re from an older, more sophisticated world.” Fang chuckled with fondness as he strode toward Stiles’ collapsed form.
“You should know well the world I hail from. You travesered the vast seas without me. You know of my realm now.” Stiles tried to keep the hurt from his voice, but it was hard not to mourn the adventures they could have had together.
“Tut-tut darling.” Peter chided, “Why do you scorn me? Am I not knowledgeable?”
Peter tilted his head, his wild mane swaying over, and stepped closer, “Am I not witty?”
“Am I not beautiful?” With his final question he crouched before Stiles and kissed his nose.
Silver streamed down Stiles’ face, shining in the dim light of the moon, “Oh how I have missed you my darling boy.”
Peter smiled sadly at Stiles before helping the male to his feet.
“Boy, I am no longer, my heart.” He took a step back, keeping his arm on Stiles’ waist, so that he could look at Stiles’ form, “Though you look as if it has been but a smattering of years not the long decade that I have felt in my soul each night I did not see you.”
“Yes, I age slow like the dance of kelp on the ocean floor.” Peter’s snort cut off Stiles’ next sentence.
“What pompousness! You silly immortal, just speak like a normal person.” Peter demanded with a humored huff.
“I am not a normal person so I shall speak as I damned well please, Fang.” Stiles snapped, stepping out of, no longer Peter but now, Fang's embrace.
He did not understand how Peter came to be the new Fearsome Fang, and he was rapidly growing tired of the mind games with this stranger.
“I was sent to give your body a proper burial. Your mother blamed me for your demise. What am I to tell her now that you have assumed this title and this life?” Stiles’ eyes flashed bright once in frustration.
He’d found his human, and yet he could not keep him.
Peter grasped Stiles’ hands earnestly as he pleaded, “Tell her nothing. Come with me, my heart.”
Stiles was stunned. His kind were not followers, but they were also not known for nightly strolls along beaches, Stiles was already an outsider in his realm, he could bear their scorn for following his heart.
-
The Fearsome Fang, a name known for spreading terror among the seas, had gained a new legend to his mythic story. A legend that spoke of an ocean spirit who protected his vessels and enacted wrathful assaults on all who dared oppose him. Fang’s own men had seen the elusive beast, and yet endeavored never to look too closely at the shimmer of light against the waves that stayed just a breath behind their ship.
Double-Crossed Christopher was Fang’s quartermaster and therefore the unfortunate soul incharge of approaching the captain about the men’s fears. The season had passed with unparalleled success and yet the crew did not rejoice, they lived in fear of the creature that protected them. Sea creatures were as fickle as the sea they lived in, it might protect them now, but what would happen when the sea turned rough? Chris did not want to find out, and neither did the large group of ship hands that approached him for answers.
“You think our Llyr blessed savior is going to mutiny.” It was not a question.
“Aye.”
“Christopher I thought you a smarter man. You’ve been listening to those swabs we call a crew haven’t you?” Fang gave him a fond smirk.
“Aye.” Chris had always been a man of few words, but more so when speaking to his captain about official business.
“And if I gave you my word he wouldn’t?”
The question caught him off guard, spurring him to speak, “The men are scared sir.”
“Aye.” Fang’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he used Chris’s own sparsely worded responses against him.
-
Despite Double-Crossed Christopher’s attempts at calming the crew, Stiles still found himself in hot water.
Literally.
“What in Llyr’s name is going on in me own vessel!” The Fearsome Fang barked as he entered the loud underbelly of the ship.
“We caught us a mermaid!”
“A merman, ya scabby-sea bass!”
“A merman as pretty as a lass, Cap’n!”
Peter’s heart rate skyrocketed as dread settled upon his shoulders like a shroud. He shoved his men roughly to the side until finally the awful sight in the middle of the men revealed itself.
Stiles was sitting calmly in the middle of a large cauldron as the stew around him boiled. Peter would have frozen in terror if his love hadn’t been glaring directly at him.
“Smother those flames!” The Fearsome Fang’s voice silenced the men around him instantly, and spurred Double-Crossed Christopher into action.
The flames were quickly put out under The Fearsome Fang’s glare.
“Cap’n.” Christopher said with a nod.
“Listen here ye bilge rats, you are not to touch this creature. Ever.” Fang commanded.
“Aye.” The men replied.
“I’m not gonna ask what scallywag thought eating a creature as beautiful as this was fine idea, but know this men, I am not pleased.” Fang chastised with a stern look
“What should we do with it, captain?” a quiet voice inquired from behind him.
“We let him go!” Peter’s voice thundered out, the vibrations in the wooden boards around them brought a wicked smile to Stiles’ face.
The men grumbled a discontented “Aye, cap’n” before slowly moving out of the space.
“Will I be dancing with Jack Ketch by the night’s end captain?” Christopher was serious and solemn, even while asking if he’d be killed.
The question startled a laugh out of Stiles. He had not seen such sophistication and loyalty in a landwalker other than his boy. Unfortunately Christopher had not seen a mermaid or merman make any sound even similar to that of a human in his thirty-two long years.
“Oh Llyr, the expression on this landwalker’s face shall humor me for many nights!” Stiles laughed out.
Indeed, Double-Crossed Christopher, who was known for always looking angry, was staring open mouthed at the naked boy where once a mermaid had been.
“You may call me Stiles, human. The honor that binds your bones is strong, you are a male of your word and I find your demeanor while facing death comedic.” Stiles said with a sharp toothed smile.
“I know not what ye be.” Christopher breathed out as he sank to one knee and bowed his head.
Stiles’ seal like laugh echoed off the once boiling cauldron, “Ah, reverence. Christopher, I shall now consider you a friend of the sea. Rise. Fang would do well to follow your example.”, a snort from Fang followed by a dejected sigh from Stiles was all Chris heard before Stiles continued, “Alas he shall never mend his ways.”
-
“Aye ya slimy bastards! Hear ye!” The Fearsome Fang ordered, his men falling silent as he approached.
“It be time for change. I’ve got things to do, places to see, and people to screw.”
A hearty cheer rose up at the lewd comment.
“Meet your new boss!” Sly Pete said with a flourish.
The Fearsome Fang stepped out of the captain’s quarters with his head high and shoulders squared. This was when he’d be sized up and deemed worthy.
“Any objections?” Sly Pete asked with genuine curiosity, sometimes no one challenged which was quite dull.
“I object!” Slippery Scott stepped forward, a mischievous grin on his crooked jaw.
The Fearsome Fang’s answering grin was sharp yet grateful.
“As the old captain I’ll watch. When you’re ready lads.” Sly Pete said with a nod, stepping back to give the men space.
Slippery Scott, though young, was a fast and dirty fighter, and Peter genuinely enjoyed watching the clash between Scott's style and Christopher's.
Christopher's style would change the longer he was The Fearsome Fang, but at the moment it was still the professional sophisticated style of an old knight.
Peter had never asked about Christopher's past because it truly did not matter to the pirate, but over the years Peter had gleaned his origins. The older man's manners and personality spoke of a rich, perhaps even royal, upbringing surrounded by rules and corruption. Christopher would not step off the ship in some ports which spoke to where he came from.
The two opposing styles clashed in a chaotic but beautiful way that left Peter grinning and the crew calling for blood.
Scott's quick movements began to slow eventually, giving resilient Christopher the in he needed to knock the boy down.
“The challenger is defeated. Two cheers for The Fearsome Fang's first victory!” Sly Pete announced with a wicked smirk.
“Huzzah!”
-
That night Stiles listened through the door of Peter’s room as the entire ship celebrated their new captain. He had been around longer than pirates had roamed the seven seas and he would be around long after they were gone, and yet he was shockingly moved by the traditions that bloomed on these ships. No other pirate in the world could claim the legacy the original Fearsome Fang could. His has been whispered around fires for more than seventy years, though the man himself had been dead forty. Pirates, peasants, and royalty alike feared the immortal, though only very few knew he was not one man but a long line of men taking up his name and his ship. Peter would never be able to tell his family whom he’d become, but he could tell them he’d worked for the legend, which would earn him enough notoriety to protect his family and their homes from wayward thieves.
Peter had left a boy and would return a provider and a man.
Stiles dreaded facing Genevieve again, he had never met such a ferocious human, but he did not dread reuniting Peter with his mother. Not many boys taken by pirates lived past their first month, much less prosper.
“Sly Peter ya nasty bugger come back ‘ere!” The use of Peter first pirate name jared Stiles back into the moment and sent him currying across the room to lie nonchalantly on the bed. He quickly grabbed a book to read before Peter entered.
“That sounded like a merry time.” Stiles offered sarcastically in greeting.
“Yes, it was.” Peter answered before a filthy grin slid onto his face and he said, “That book is upside down.”
“Damn you Peter Hale. May the waters never envelop you in warmth, but in icy chill instead.” Stiles hissed, embarrassed Peter had caught him.
Peter’s chuckle sent a wave of warmth over Stiles causing him to flush a pretty pale rose color.
“Easy darling. I have returned because I yearned for your company, but if you are to curse me all night I shall return to the rats outside.” Peter’s blue eyes brightened as he approached the bed, and Stiles cursed his superior senses for drowning him in the smell of Peter’s hormones. He was done for the second his pirate had felt a sensual thought.
“Damn you.” Stiles mumbled one last time before Peter’s whiskey lips devoured him.
“I’d rather damn us both sweet boy.” Peter’s voice was low as he worked down Stiles’ throat sucking pink and green marks into the male’s skin, though they disappeared shortly after.
“Despite it being a curse on my life, I do enjoy that mouth of yours my heart.” Stiles gasped in ecstasy.
“The only cursed thing in this bed is your healing. One day I will mark your perfect skin and you will bare my claiming to both our worlds.” Peter’s voice rumbled as he spoke his promise, before biting Stiles’ pelvic bone harshly.
-
Genevieve was still as fearsome as she had been on that sorrow trodden beach years ago. Stiles would never mention it, but he’d smelled the tears on Peter’s face as he gripped that fierce woman as tight as her frail body would allow. The years had not been kind to his family, his father could no longer stand by himself and his mother was only barely able to herself. His elder sister had moved inland and sired three children and currently carried the fourth. Her boy Derek looked like Peter more than he did his own father, and her youngest Cora had Peter’s sharp tongue and mischievous nature.
Stiles made sure Peter visited all of his family members as often as possible, even if it meant leaving him at the shore line. He had not gotten to say goodbye to his mortal mother, and his father had wasted away shortly after his mate had died.
The small shack they lived in was quaint and warm. It was everything Stiles had ever dreamed of having all those long years he mourned his human. He found himself nesting more and more each night, their home soon covered in beautiful shells of all shapes, sizes, and shades. Every morning Peter rose with him to return to the sea. Stiles would swim while Peter read to him or spun wild tales of his life as a pirate, some that Stiles simply could not believe were true.
“Peter! Those waters are full of sirens! How ever did you get passed them?” Stiles gasped, his tail slowing in the water beneath him.
“I knew what to expect my love. You kept me safe, even if you were not beside me I carried you with me. It was your warning of gray teeth like rocks and the shores behind them that kept me from getting too close.” Peter soothed Stiles’ frown lines away with his thumb as he smiled warmly at him.
“I didn’t finish my lessons with you. I should have spoke faster, and less about shells! What a bubble headed fool I was.” Stiles sighed.
Peter kissed him soft and slow.
“It matters not. I am here. You found me my heart. You brought me home. And now we have eternity.” Peter smiled again before kissing his forehead softly.
They did not have eternity, Stiles knew, but what they did have was now and now would be good enough for Stiles.
