It had been all that he'd wanted in life. To spend it with Lucas, reveling in their mutual desire. In sun-bright afternoons filled with laughter with searing kisses and caresses as they tumbled into bed. Afternoons of tasting him, worshiping all of his lover and taking everything Lucas offered him when he came undone. Afternoons of Lucas astride him like Hawk was the finest of stallions, eyes bright with adoration and words of love on his lips as they both reached the heights of pleasure together.
Afternoons when they'd both curled together, lazy and spent, reading to each other books of poetry or meditation or philosophy, full of hope for the future.
But Lucas was dead.
Hawk had abandoned him, had left him to his persecutors, to his death. Could he have saved him, if he'd stayed? Hawk couldn't forgive himself for leaving. Lucas, a saint, would never have wanted him to feel this way. But no matter what he did, Hawk couldn't forgive himself for such a craven act of betrayal.
Hawk drained his cup and uncorked the bottle of rum on his desk. Rather than refilling it, he curled his fingers around the neck and lifted it to his lips, drinking deeply. Sobriety was too full of thoughts tonight for him to endure it.
Instead, he crossed the cabin and pushed open the great storm windows that lead to the sea, perching on the windowsill and looking out across the waves towards England. Towards the place where his heart still resided in brittle, crumbled shatters with whatever remained of the man he should have never allowed himself to love.
Port Royal could not be saved from the oncoming banality of civilization. Not without means to do so. He could not bear it anymore, sinking lower and lower into the depths of the mask he'd donned when he'd become a pirate, it had become a guise he could not shake.
He could not bear piracy. He could not bear his crew. A part of him could no longer even bear the sea. But if there was one thing that he knew, it was that the sea always claimed its due. One day, it would devour him.
“Fuck it.” Hawk rose on unstable legs. The second bottle of rum had been empty - well, look at that! He did not remember finishing it. “Why delay the inevitable,” he said to no one in particular. The sky above, the sea below - just as allegedly, were God and the Devil.
Would the two of them sort it out, once the sea had pulled him to his final resting place? Or would he be cursed to ride the currents of the ocean forever? Standing unsteadily on the windowsill, Hawk wasn't sure which fate would be worse. Or, as the world upended around him, sending him plummeting intothe waves below, whether it had been the rum that had pushed him over the edge, or the sea rising up to take its due.
The moon was high overhead when Silverfin found theOrca, sailing peacefully under a gentle breeze. He'd come to recognize the shape of its keel over any other ship in the sea, and when its rippling shadow cut through the moonlight to sail along the sea floor he swam up eagerly. The very thought of catching a glimpse of his handsome red-haired Pirate King sent a thrill through to the very tips of his fins.
Excitement and anticipation made him fast, speeding through the water and breaching the surface, arching above the waves and then diving beneath as he moved to catch up to the ship.
He slowed as he got closer - even in the dark of night, he dared not risk being seen by the watch - and took stock. The king's cabin was brightly lit in the darkness, the great windows thrown wide. He could make out the fine silhouette of the king's well-made body in the window, dark against the golden candlelight behind him.
But tonight, something was wrong. The strength had all but left the man's form. Once-proud shoulders slumped as if dragged down by the weight of a whale. His fingers were wrapped around the neck of a bottle instead of a sword, and, as Silverfin watched, they released it into the waves at the wake of the ship, swirling down into the undertow.
The bottle bobbed to the surface a few feet away from Silverfin, but he resisted the urge to swim after it. Ordinarily, the desire totaste the Pirate King's lips would be great, but tonight a sense of impending peril overtook him.
His senses were not incorrect. As he watched, his brave, fierce Pirate King lifted one of his lower limbs - "legs" - and placed it drunkenly up onto the window ledge. He paused for a moment, holding onto the window frame and looking out over the sea, the moonlight throwing his handsome features into harsh relief. There was such a look of despair on his face that Silverfin’s own heart broke a little.
After a moment of stillness that seemed to last forever, the Pirate King closed his eyes. Then, with the resignation of one going to the gallows, he leaned forward and toppled from his ship, disappearing into the foaming churn of the sea.
A sacrifice to the deep. Silverfin’s senses boiled. What a gift to the sea, what a prize for Mami Wata! The merfolk were used to such sacrifices, they treasured these gifts of biped flesh almost as much as they treasured gold. He ought to rejoice.
But no, not this. Not him.
Silverfin wasn’t very generous of heart, and the Red Pirate King was a prize he was not willing to share. Not even with Mami Wata herself.
He dove through the waves to where he'd seen the pirate disappear, recalling all too well how weak and pathetic bipeds became once they were under the surface of the water. How long did he have before his handsome prize ceased to move, before his heart ceased to beat? The wake of the ship made the water turbulent, bubbles obscuring his vision for precious seconds.
There. A flash of white in the darkness. The pale cloth the pirate wore stuck to his skin as he sank through the water, and as Silverfin sped towards him, he watched the man's lips part, giving up the last few bubbles of precious air.
No. No, this would not do at all.
Tail pumping frantically, he reached the drowning man, hauling him into his arms. He sealed their lips together, pushing air out of his own lungs and into the pirate’s. New oxygen flooded in through his gills, but it wouldn't be enough to keep both of them alive - he'd have to take the pirate back to the surface, and risk discovery to keep him alive.
Swimming hard against the foaming water, he bore the weight of the Pirate King upwards, finally breaching and pulling the biped's head above water.
The boat was long gone by the time they surfaced, which posed another problem. Certainly he could not keep a biped in the sea with him; his fragile, elastic skin was already beginning to resemble a wrinkly sea cucumber. Even if he had been able to deposit him back on his ship, could Silverfin trust the man not to simply fall overboard again?
Land for now, he decided. He pressed his lips to the corner of the unconscious pirate's mouth, just to make sure he was breathing on his own, of course. Then he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, keeping him securely out of the water as he began to propel the man towards safety. A Mer always knew where he was going; Silver could read the ripples and currents of the water as easily as breathing, feeling in his core where the waves crashed upon the shore. He started towards the nearest landmass with powerful kicks of his tail.
The man's weight lay heavy and limp in his grip. For so long Silverfin had wondered what it would be like to hold the Pirate King in his arms like that, to be able to inhale his scent, to taste his sun-beaten skin. But now that he had the man at his disposal, a wave of confusion overcame him and robbed him in his moment of triumph.
What was he to do with the pirate once they reached land? He could not very well beach himself, like some inopportune whale in his attempts to drag the biped back to shore. Merfolk had strong arms and wide shoulders, of course, as one would expect when you spend all your life traversing the waters. Silverfin could easily pull himself up the outside of a ship, so surely he could push the pirate up and onto the closest dock just as easily.
Port Royal slept when they reached it, as bipeds did, preferring daytime to the nocturnal hours. There was no one around to see them as Silverfin took a cautious lap under a boardwalk. Then he pushed the Pirate King up and over on the other side, placing his dripping form onto the boards before pulling himself up after him to perch on the side.
