War between two rival gangs, deciding to make a deal under certain conditions. If they sacrificed one of their people to each other they would have peace. The captives however would have to suffer under the hands of the enemy.
Aaaaaannnd this one's the last one! At some point after the anthology deadline, I'm thinking of posting the entry here :3c
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CONTENT and WARNINGS: mer/shifter whumpee, allusions to past captivity/torture
wc: ~0.4k
The young man’s eyes went wide with recognition. “Timmy? You know him?”
Pete gave a shaky nod, a whimper threatened to drown his words. “P-pl-please, Powers, please, I w-want—I jus-just want—" to go home.
The lady moved her hand from Pete’s shoulder before turning back to the young man and eyeing him incredulously. “Do you know him??”
“Timmy? Or the belunae?”
The look the lady gave him must’ve been enough of a prompt, because it spurred the young man to continue, “Yeah, I worked at DePetro’s aquarium with him for a while. Seemed nice. The belunae… I guess i—he—looks kinda familiar, I don’t know…”
Pete shuddered at the mere mention of the place, stifling another sob and curling up tighter. He balled the corner of the coat in his hand and tried to drag it closer. Seeing this, the older man draped it over Pete shoulders, and he curled up further under it, pulling himself into a tight, shaking ball, not moving his tail.
“Do you… have his number?” said the lady.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, cheeks flushing, “I’ll, uh, call him. Set the course to Devonhurst.”
~*~
“Hello? Eòin, uh,” Timmy must’ve sounded harried because Eòin faltered immediately. “I don’t have long, I can call you back later when I have some time—”
“No, I uh, I think this is fairly urgent. I’m on The Unchaining Lady—”
“The environmental vessel? In this weather?”
“Yeah, we picked up uh… I think… A friend of yours. He’s in bad shape and asking for you, we’re coming into port now. We… found him tangled up in… marine litter.”
“What.”
Timmy rushed to the port without delay, through the raging storm, and didn’t wait for the boat to moor before jumping on and clambering around in search of Pete.
In the hull, the mer’s trembles lessened and he poked his head out from under the coat just before they heard footsteps.
“Pete!”
Timmy rushed down the ladder to Pete’s side, dropping to his knees and tenderly manoeuvring his torso into his lap. Pete’s freezing arms wrapped around his waist, and he pulled himself closer, sobbing in a mix of pain and relief.
“I th-th-thought I was—was gonna d-d-d-die,” he whimpered.
“Shh, it’s alright now,” Timmy said, supporting the back of Pete’s head and stroking his drenched, wiry hair. Pete relaxed into the embrace. Despite the pain, he felt safe.
“Let’s get you home.”
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Warnings: Mention of past torture and trauma, nightmares
This one is a couple of weeks in the future at this point in time, somewhere around chapter 13.
Previous (Chapter 13) | Masterlist | Next (Chapter 14)
Merridy sat in the open window of the inn room, leaning her back against the window frame, her left leg pulled up, her arms wrapped around it. It was a beautiful night; the sky clear, the white moon full, the blue moon just rising above the roofs of Dragon’s Reach. She didn’t know exactly how late it was, but it was probably past midnight.
Here, far away from the busy taverns and the harbor, the streets were quiet at night. The occasional noise of shouts and laughter in the distance still reached her, but it was muffled. It was neither a nuisance nor a threat.
It was a good thing to distract herself with when she didn’t dare to go back to sleep, though. She couldn’t even remember much of the nightmare; fleeting impressions of darkness and loneliness, the faces of people long gone from her life. It had left her with a profound sadness, as well as an indistinct worry about both past and future.
Once more she had left everything behind — just that this time she wasn’t alone. And despite having no idea what her future would bring, and with nothing to her name but a cheap inn room with a bunch of bags and boxes that contained all that was left of her belongings, she didn’t truly miss her old life.
What had started as a plan to stay with Damien until he was recovered, using those weeks to decide if she could trust him with Cedric’s secrets, had quickly turned into an arrangement of indeterminate duration. For the first time in however long, she felt at peace. Reading and crocheting and taking walks, with no next big heist looming over her. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it: the thrill of the break in, the triumph of finding whatever she had been sent to steal. But the threat of getting caught, of being at the mercy of the guards, of ending up in the dungeon was too fresh. Still, if she hadn’t been caught, she would never have met him. There was no way he’d still be alive if she hadn’t.
She turned her head, resting it on her knee so she could look at the bed. There was enough moonlight to allow her to see Damien. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but not even sleep was able to fully erase the sadness on his features. When he was awake, he was quiet, almost timid, trying not to complain, not to ask for anything. Merridy wished he would tell her what was on his mind, instead of insisting that he was fine when he clearly wasn’t. From time to time she asked — never with much success — but she didn’t dare to push him too much.
Sometimes he lashed out, like an injured animal, cornered and afraid. She was slowly getting better at noticing when it was about to happen, and he had gotten better at letting her know before it was too late. Saying that it didn’t scare her would have been a lie, but she couldn’t blame him for it. The fragments of his nightmares and all those horrible wounds that had almost healed by now told her enough of what he’d been through.
And she trusted him; trusted that he’d never hurt her on purpose. Not because he was grateful that she had saved him, though that surely played a part in it. It was because she truly couldn’t see anything bad in him. When something broke through the mask of fear and sadness he was hiding behind, it was a quiet word, a soft smile, eyes full of wonder at something that should be ordinary. Merridy wanted to see more of it, to see who he really was. There was no way she could be this wrong about him, was there?
A barely audible noise caught her attention, the creasing of his brows, a weak twitching of his hand. She would never have noticed anything if she hadn’t already been awake. Perhaps she would have if it got worse, if he called out in his sleep or awoke screaming. Watching him, the quickened breaths and the barely visible movements, she feared it would come to that.
There was a chance the nightmare would pass, but she didn’t wanna risk it. Merridy dropped her leg off the windowsill and stood up, hobbling across the room. Of course her leg had fallen asleep and now started to tingle painfully. She leaned against the bed, taking her weight off her leg before reaching for Damien’s shoulder.
“Damien. Wake up.” Shaking him gently, she continued, “Wake up, you’re dreaming.”
His eyes shot open and a strangled gasp left his lips. Even the pale moonlight was enough to see the haunted look on his face.
“Hey.” She let go of him instantly, leaning back. “Sorry. You were dreaming, and I was worried it would get… bad.” Bad was a slight understatement for most of his nightmares she had witnessed so far. And yet, those made every bit of sleep he managed to get so much more precious. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you. Perhaps I should have waited.”
“No. You’re right. Thank you.” He pushed himself up, leaning forward in an all too familiar motion. “Sorry for waking you up,” he mumbled, face buried in his hand.
“You didn’t. I was awake.”
Now he looked up, searching her face for something, a worried frown on his lips. “Why?”
How should she answer that? Compared to what must be haunting him, her own nightmares seemed insignificant, more so when she could barely remember them. She shrugged, settling down more comfortably on the edge of the bed, so she could shake her still tingling leg.
“Bad at sleeping?” she offered with a small smile.
He looked from her leg to her bed, the blanket hastily thrown back, then to the window and back to her.
“Wanna give it another try?” he asked.
“No. You?”
Damien shook his head.
The silence that fell between them was a bit awkward. They had settled into a routine during the day, but a situation like this lacked the comfortable familiarity. Merridy looked at the window, at the small strip of stars and moonlight. “Wanna go for a walk?” she asked.
“At night?”
Yes, at night. When the world was quiet and calm and beautiful, an artwork of blacks and blues and whites. When the light of a single candle was enough to feel warm and at home. When streets were empty, parks abandoned. When she could melt into the shadows and dance in the moonlight and everything was so much crisper and clearer than during the day.
“Yes,” was all she replied.
“Okay.”
As Damien reached for the blanket to free himself, Merridy slid off the bed, to make it easier for him to get up. She walked over to the chair, grabbing the thin, knit jacket and slipping into a pair of soft canvas shoes. When she turned around, Damien was just fastening his boots, and she grabbed his jacket as well, holding it up to help him into it.
“Thank you,” he said, tone and gaze so earnest, as if this little gesture was something grand.
Merridy smiled, holding on to the jacket until he had fastened the first button. Then, while he was busy with the others, she quickly grabbed a shawl, draping it around her shoulders. A cool breeze had made the curtains in front of the window flutter, making her doubt that her thin jacket would be enough.
“Ready?” Damien asked when she returned to his side.
Merridy nodded, unlocking the door and locking it behind them as soon as they had stepped out of the room. It was dark in the hallway, the only light coming from a small window at the far end of it. She let the key slide into her pocket, resisting the urge to reach for Damien’s hand. He was jumpy about touch, and she couldn’t blame him for it.
Together they walked to the stairs that ended at the door to the backyard, from where a small footpath would lead them to the street in front of the inn.
“Careful,” Damien said, pausing right at the top of the stairs. He held out his hand for her to take, a barely discernible shadow in the darkness.
Merridy smiled, closing her fingers around his. He stayed next to her as she started to descend the stairs, warning her when they were about to reach the landing halfway down. He only let go when they had reached the door, which he held open for her to step out into the moonlit backyard.
No. She didn’t think she was wrong about him at all.
